Page 30 of Mountain Summons

“Thank you, Tristan,” Lena said. “That means a lot to me.”

She didn’t know what he would have said in response, because Yvette ran towards them. She dipped her head, nodding to Tristan, but grabbed on to Lena’s arm instead. “Come on, Lena, the auction’s about to begin. I’ve saved you a spot.”

“Go,” Tristan said, standing quickly aside.

Tristan

Lena’s prints were striking.

Not that he knew much about photography. He could count the things he knew about on one hand. Helicopters. Watches—much despite himself. But even he could see that Lena’s photographs were special.

He wondered how long she’d stood there, waiting, before finding just the right moment, when the soft shafts of morning light filtered through the tall trees, casting a golden glow on the moss-covered ground. In the center of the frame stood a small family of chamois, delicate and almost ethereal. Several adult females stood alert yet calm, their sleek, tan-and-chocolate coats blending against the forest’s muted tones. The three younger ones were smaller, fluffier, lighter in color. One of them crouched beside a fallen log, while another one peered shyly from behind its mother. It seemed to Tristan as if Lena had captured the lightness—the dreamlike quality—of the moment perfectly.A glimpse into a hidden world.

It didn’t surprise him that several people in the room were fighting over the photograph. And dammit, he wanted that print, too. He could outbid them all. This selfish, unreasonable part of him told him it might be the only thing he’d ever have of Lena. And if so, didn’t he deserve to have it? Except he’d just about promised to stay away. Bidding on her print would be the opposite of that.

Standing at the back of the room, he forced his hands in his pockets to stop himself from raising his hand and making a bid.But nobody could stop him from watching Lena where she sat next to Yvette.

Black suited her. It brought out the copper in her hair and the hazel in her eyes. Hell, any color would suit her. She was … beautiful. But it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just her beauty that called to him. There was something about her—a hidden fragility behind that show of strength ... Maybe her innocence, too. Yes. That combination of beauty, strength and innocence. He wanted to get to know her better. He knew she wanted him—physically, at least—could feel how much it was costing both of them to stay away from each other. But she was stubborn. Really, really stubborn. She was worried he would hurt her.

That bothered him—the thought of hurting her. So maybe she’d made the right decision for both of them. He couldn’t promise her forever. He couldn’t promise her anything. And if he ended up hurting her, the way she expected to be hurt …

“Hey. Tristan.”

Tristan almost smiled at how uncomfortable Lorenz looked in his dark suit. “You forgot the tie.”

“I didn’t forget. It’s been so long since I last wore one, I’ve forgotten how to tie the damn thing.”

“What will you do on your wedding day, then?”

Lorenz showed his teeth. “Right. Because worrying about that keeps me up at night. Anyway. You look like you’re having about as much fun as I am, and I know it’s not the monkey suit that’s bothering you. So what’s going on with you?”

Tristan couldn’t help but sneak another look at Lena. She was chatting with Yvette and with the man sitting on her other side. She hadn’t looked back once in his direction.

A knowing smile appeared on Yvette’s face. “Ah. I see.”

“Don’t even think of going there,” Tristan cautioned.

Lorenz raised his hands, palms up. “It’s not for me to ask, if you don’t feel like talking about it. What do you say we get out of here? We could go play darts.”

Trust Lorenz to find a competitive activity in a bar. Lorenz couldn’t help being competitive, whether it was playing darts or powering through an Ironman.

Tristan didn’t want to play darts. But hedidwant to leave before seeing Lena again—before he started groveling in front of her. Just as he wondered how he was going to extricate himself, a familiar figure walked by. There weren’t too many men Tristan had to look up to, but Sebastian Marchand, from the Megève fire department, was one of them. He had to be at least six five, and the suit he wore did nothing to hide the breadth of his shoulders. France had recently upped the difficulty level of yearly firefighter physicals, but Tristan couldn’t imagine Bastien would have any difficulty with the new standards.

“Bastien,” Lorenz said, shaking the man’s hand. “Kind of you to join us.”

It made sense that Lorenz and Bastien would be good friends, since they were both adrenaline junkies.

Bastien’s mouth split into a rueful smile, showing his very white teeth. “The Chief sent me to represent the department. I must have done something to piss him off.”

“That’s what comes with being a rookie,” Tristan said. “Don’t worry, eventually somebody younger than you will join the fire department, and you’ll be off the hook.”

“A rookie? I’ve been a firefighter for seven years,” the man replied.

“Not in Megève, you haven’t. And that’s what matters,” Lorenz said.

“Anyway, you guys helped us out last year, so it’s only fair that I should be here.”

Tristan laughed. “If you really wanted to help us, you wouldn’t have just sent a few helmets. You’d be auctioning a night out. I’ve heard those are very popular. Dinner cooked by a fireman, that kind of thing.”

---