It was a friendly gesture, but an intimate one, too. It felt good, his strong arm encircling her, the warmth from his body radiating to hers. She raised her eyes to meet his and found him studying her intently. “What is it?” she asked.

“You’re not like most of the women I’ve met up here,” he said, his voice soft and low.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No. I like it. I mean, I like you. You’re…your own person.” Their eyes remained locked and she wondered if he would kiss her. Part of her thought she wouldn’t be able to stand it if he didn’t—and part of her wanted to run away if he did.

But after a moment, he withdrew his arms. “Here comes the bus,” he said.

They found a seat on the bus and he avoided looking at her again. Instead, he directed his attention out the window. “There are some great trails up there,” he said, indicating a snowy forest-service road. “Good fishing in the lakes, too.”

“I don’t fish,” she said. “But I suppose some of the people who come into the chamber do. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“That paved path you can barely see is the Hike and Bike trail,” he said, indicating a trail on their left. “It goes all the way from Crested Butte up to the resort.”

“I’ll have to try it sometime.” She kept her eyes on him, but he continued to avoid her gaze. She wondered if that moment of intimacy back at the bus stop had unnerved him even more than it had unsettled her.

When they reached Crested Butte, they climbed off the bus and walked up the street in silence. Neither said anything until they were in the hallway to their apartments. “Thanks for showing me around tonight,” she said.

“Anytime.” His earlier easiness had returned. “And if you need anything in your apartment or whatever, let me know.”

“The apartment’s fine,” she said. “Very nice.”

“Good night.” He nodded and turned toward his door.

She stared after him, amusement warring with confusion. For someone Trish swore was a ladies’ man, Max certainly hadn’t made any moves tonight. He’d been exactly what she needed—a good friend.

Of course, she thought, as she unlocked her door and went inside, what she needed and what she wanted weren’t necessarily the same thing. She’d have to be careful to not let her suddenly-wide-awake libido get the better of her common sense. Better to get a handle on this new life she was creating for herself before she wandered off into the dangerous territory of a new love interest.

Though when she was ready to head off into that particular wilderness, a mountain man like Max might be the perfect guide.

Casey decided that if someone combined a Halloween party with a square dance and a junior prom, the result would be the Flauschink Polka Ball. It was definitely nothing like the fancy balls she’d endured in Chicago, she thought as she and Heather joined the crush of people at the entrance to the Eldo while the oompah beat of “Roll Out the Barrel” poured from the open doors.

Heather wore a black leotard and tights, and had fastened two large white dots to her torso. “I’m a domino,” she explained. “The two-spot.”

Casey had succumbed to Heather’s badgering and dressed as Miss Scarlet, complete with a red feathered headdress, red boa, red fishnet stockings and stiletto heels, and a long black cigarette holder unearthed from the prop department of the community theater troupe. Since Casey didn’t smoke, Heather had stuck a bubble wand in the end of the holder. She’d handed Casey a plastic bottle of bubble solution. “You’ll be a hit,” she declared.

Okay, so it was kind of fun blowing bubbles over the heads of the assorted clowns, cowboys, devils, angels, snowmen and the other characters that converged inside the Eldo.

Casey had scarcely gotten her bearings when a man wearing a red long underwear top, rough canvas pants, suspenders and a bushy black beard grabbed her hand. “Let’s dance,” he said.

Casey resisted. “I don’t know how to polka,” she protested.

“Then it’s time you learned.” The man—she decided he was supposed to be a miner—swept her onto the dance floor and led her in a somewhat controlled gallop across the room.

“Who are you?” she shouted over the insistent polka beat.

“Bill Whitmore. We met at the chamber.”

Of course. She’d mistaken the beard for a fake, but now realized he’d let it go untrimmed to add to the authenticity of his outfit. “Someone told me you had a girlfriend,” she said as they started back across the room.

“That’s okay. She’s dancing with someone else.”

When the song ended and Bill released her, she was gasping for breath. “Guess you’re not used to the altitude,” Bill said, delivering her to a table shared by Heather, Trish, Bryan and Zephyr.

“Guess not,” she wheezed, dropping into a chair. If she’d had the breath, she might have added that she wasn’t used to being dragged around at a gallop, while wearing high heels, either.

“We ordered you a drink.” Heather pushed a plastic cup toward her.

Casey had drained half the cup before she realized the fruit punch was heavily spiked. “Maybe I’d better stick to water,” she said, pushing the cup away.

“We’ve got that, too.” Trish handed her a bottle.

Casey twisted off the cap and searched the crowd for familiar faces. She’d half expected Max to offer to ride with her over to the Eldo, since walking even that short distance in heels was out of the question, but she hadn’t seen him since he’d locked up his shop that afternoon.

“He’s not here yet,” Heather said.

“Who?” Casey asked.

“Max. That is who you were looking for, wasn’t it?”

She hoped everyone would mistake the flush on her cheeks for the effects of her dancing. “I’m curious what his costume might be,” she said.

“There’s Dr. Ben.” Trish, dressed as a flapper in a white silk minidress and rolled stockings, waved at a man in a familiar beer-can crown and purple cape.

As he approached, the good doctor saluted them with his plunger/scepter, which also doubled as a holder for a can of beer. “You’re the Flauschink King!” Casey exclaimed.

“Yes, I do have that dubious honor.” He turned to Heather. “You’re a very lovely…uh…what exactly are you?”

“I’m a domino,” she said, exasperated.

“Where’s your queen?” Zephyr asked. He’d added a silver lamé jacket to his usual baggy jeans and introduced himself as a rock star.

Ben looked around, then a smile broke out. “Here she comes now.” He waved and Patti, the waitress at the Teocalli Tamale, glided over. She wore a tie-dyed T-shirt and ripped jeans beneath her royal robes, and tie-dyed streamers decorated her scepter.

“Dig the tie-dye, your majesty,” Zephyr said, giving her a thumbs up.

“Thanks.” Patti curtsied.

“Anybody seen Max?” Ben asked.

They shook their heads. “We’re all waiting to see his costume,” Bryan said. He was dressed as a chimney sweep, in top hat and tails, carrying a broom. “Do you know what it is?”

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