He glided on his skis the last few feet between them and touched her shoulder.

She jerked and craned her neck, staring at him for a beat. Then she pulled off her helmet and dark lenses, and yanked earbuds from her ears. Tinny music burst out from them so loud that he wondered if she could still hear anything at all.

“Sorry,” she said. “Did you say something?”

“I asked if you’re okay.”

She flashed a smile like the question was silly. “Of course.”

Of course. She wore a tight ski cap beneath her helmet, also cherry red, with no hair visible and enough layers that she was utterly shapeless, but he could see now that she wasn’t a girl at all. A woman, maybe mid-twenties. Dark eyes. Sweet, contagious smile.

Pretty.

But he’d been a cop for long enough that he could read people, often before they said a word about themselves. It was all in the posture, in the little tells, he’d learned.

Such as the layers she wore.

Yes it was winter and yes it was the Rocky Mountains, but thirty degrees was downright balmy compared to last week’s mid-teens. Most likely she wasn’t from around here or the mountains at all.

Then there was the slightly unsure look in her eyes, a vulnerability that said she was at least a little bit out of her element and knew it. Her utter lack of wariness told him something else, too, that probably wherever she’d come from, it hadn’t been a big city.

None of which explained why she was sitting alone on top of one of the toughest mountains in the country. Dumped by a boyfriend after a fight on the lift? Separated from a pack of girlfriends and taking a break? Hell, despite appearances, maybe she was a daredevil out here on a whim.

Or it could be that she was simply a nut job. Nut jobs came in all shapes and sizes, even mysterious cuties with vulnerability in their eyes that suddenly made him feel extra protective. “You sure you’re okay?”

She narrowed her eyes a little. “Why, don’t I look okay?”

He knew a trick question when he heard one. Knowing better than to touch that one with a ten-foot pole, he swept his gaze over her. No visible injuries. But then again, he couldn’t see much given her layers. “So you’re not hurt.”

“Nope.” She paused. “You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.”

“Little bit.”

She sighed. “Did you know that people who don’t understand ski maps, or maps at all really, shouldn’t ski alone?”

“No one should ski alone,” he said.

“You are.”