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place.
    Tom retrieved the two lost skis when pack members Cantrell and his brother, Robert, joined him, carrying the woman’s ski poles.
    â€œShe’s hot, man,” Cantrell said to Tom. The two of them grinned at him as they skied down to the lady getting to her feet and brushing the snow off her goggles.
    He raised his brows at them, asking in a silent way who they were referring to.
    â€œNot the woman that just rag-dolled down the slope,” Cantrell said. “You know. Elizabeth.”
    They reached the lady who had fallen, and Tom asked, “You all right, ma’am?” He handed her the skis, and Robert gave her the ski poles.
    â€œYes, thank you. I’m fine.” Her cheeks were red from the weather or from embarrassment. She seated her boots on her skis and took off.
    â€œI asked her to lunch,” Robert said. He and his brother skied with Tom to the next lift. “Elizabeth. She said she would be busy.”
    â€œWith me.” Tom hated to sound so territorial. She wasn’t really with him. But after that kiss, he was rethinking that scenario.
    Cantrell laughed. “Yeah, she said so.”
    Tom smiled a little at that.
    When the pack leaders invited a wolf to their home for dinner, that was usually the ultimate boon to any wolf’s ego. Except Elizabeth’s. Tom wondered why she seemed reluctant.
    â€œMan, you guys get all the good ones,” Cantrell said.
    The trouble was that fewer female werewolves were born, so there seemed to always be a shortage. Not that he expected to set up housekeeping anytime soon.
    â€œHow did you learn about her?” Robert asked.
    As if the Silver brothers had a pipeline to learning about available females. Although he supposed Bertha was that for him this time.
    Tom got a call on his radio from ski patroller Kemp. “Gotta come quick. Devil Man’s Switchback.”
    â€œWhatcha got?” Tom got ahead of those waiting in the ski line and was promptly seated on a chair.
    â€œThe lady you brought to the resort?” Kemp said.
    Tom’s mouth went dry, and he tightened his hand around the radio. Elizabeth was probably not injured that badly, but since she had been with Tom, Kemp had most likely taken the situation more seriously than warranted.
    At least Tom prayed it was so. “Yeah, what happened?”
    â€œShe says she’s okay.”
    Tom sat on the edge of his chair, unsure whether to be concerned or not. “But?”
    Kemp cleared his throat.
    â€œJust spit it out, Kemp,” Tom said. “What’s happened?”
    â€œVitals look good, but the Woodcroft twins saw her first and called it in. They both say she was knocked out. She denies it, but she probably wouldn’t remember.”
    That didn’t sound good. “Is she answering your questions with full clarity?”
    â€œYeah. I’ve called for my brother to bring up a toboggan. She doesn’t want to use one. You know… she’s all alpha.”
    Tom smiled a little at that. Yeah, he already knew that about her.
    â€œYou know how it is. Someone can have no memory issues for hours or even days, and suddenly they have a problem. No visible injuries to her head, though.”
    â€œShe goes down in the toboggan. Any other possible injuries?” Tom asked.
    â€œWrist might be sprained—she was still holding on to one of her ski poles. She’ll probably be a little bruised but otherwise fine.”
    â€œWhat exactly happened? Just take a spill?”
    Kemp paused, then said, “She says a guy shoved her down the slope on purpose.”
    Tom frowned. More likely an out-of-control skier, though if the guy regularly skied the black slope, maybe not. “Did she get a look at him?”
    â€œShe gave me a get-real look, Tom, when I asked her the question. You know, because she was falling down the mountain—in an unglamorous way—her words, not mine. I couldn’t imagine her ever looking