Chocolate Kisses and Love Filled Wishes: Kissing Bridge Mountain - Book 3 by Linda West
Authors: Linda West
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ability to swerve. Soon it was a free for all, and he was shooting straight down the mountainside at a dizzying speed.
Brody looked for a flat edge to maneuver toward, but nothing was in sight. He was racing straight down the side now, in a pure vertical drop. Suddenly he started to lose hold onto the board. It started to slip out from underneath him. He grabbed hold of it, just as he was suddenly sent flying off the side of the cliff in a complete free fall without a landing in site.
Sailing over a sea of white snow.
At first Brody was filled with pure fright.
Then he was filled with adrenaline.
Then he went into X-game champ mode.
His pro snowboarding expertise came in handy as he searched for a landing. His eagle eyes spotted a flat patch below to the left.
Bingo.
First stop, left ledge three feet wide, 500 yards down.
He straightened out his stance trying to lengthen and stretch the jump and time it just right so he could make the ledge.
He landed with a hard fall.
Eureka!
He hit the mark he had aimed for. He skidded the board to a dead stop and had to make a quick grab for it as it threatened to careen over the side.
Yes, I’m alive.
Some snow let loose from the ledge and Brody had to step back as a bunch of snow broke off and hurtled down the side of the cliff.
Looking down the steep drop, Brody contemplated his next move, and suddenly he caught sight of something bright red standing out from the white snow. Brody squinted his eyes trying to make out what it was.
Yes, that was it!
Brad’s plane!
Jason had described the red plane with the white Aero Anderson logo to him, and sure enough, there it was.
But it was further down from where he was, and he couldn’t see a way to get down there—definitely not with his board.
Brody considered his options.
His board was all he knew.
His comfort zone. His area of expertise.
But it had to go.
He unstrapped his board from his feet and strapped it to his back with the other snowboard. The only way down to Brad was to climb. His hands shook and it felt like his heart raced a thousand beats per second, but everyone was counting on him.
He had to do it.
Brody climbed out onto a slim ledge of ice, and looked down to find somewhere to put his foot further down. He found somewhere and soon he had the hang of it—looking for places to put his hands and feet—knowing that a single misstep could cost him his life—and potentially Brad’s .
At one point, his foot slipped and he felt a downward surge as it dangled free—threatening to take his whole body with it, plunging down into the depths—and to death. But he managed to get it back in place. After a long half hour of slow downward scaling, Brody had reached the wreck site.
He made his way over, stepping gingerly onto the plane’s wing to peer into the cockpit.
Yes, there was Brad! Obscured by the plane door, but definitely there.
“Brad!” Brody called out, but there was no response.
He bent down and pried open the pilot’s door.
Brad was in a heavy-duty snowsuit, with a hat covering his head and neck, and goggles covering his eyes. That was a good thing, as all of these would retain his body heat. On the cold of the slopes, the right clothes could save your life.
“Brad!” Brody tried to wake him, but to no avail. He was breathing shallow—but alive .
Brody realized he would have to drag him out, no easy feat, as Brad was a large man.
Brody tried to get a hold on Brad, but Brad was bigger than him, and it was a struggle. But Brody knew that he was everyone’s last hope, and that gave him a
Brody looked for a flat edge to maneuver toward, but nothing was in sight. He was racing straight down the side now, in a pure vertical drop. Suddenly he started to lose hold onto the board. It started to slip out from underneath him. He grabbed hold of it, just as he was suddenly sent flying off the side of the cliff in a complete free fall without a landing in site.
Sailing over a sea of white snow.
At first Brody was filled with pure fright.
Then he was filled with adrenaline.
Then he went into X-game champ mode.
His pro snowboarding expertise came in handy as he searched for a landing. His eagle eyes spotted a flat patch below to the left.
Bingo.
First stop, left ledge three feet wide, 500 yards down.
He straightened out his stance trying to lengthen and stretch the jump and time it just right so he could make the ledge.
He landed with a hard fall.
Eureka!
He hit the mark he had aimed for. He skidded the board to a dead stop and had to make a quick grab for it as it threatened to careen over the side.
Yes, I’m alive.
Some snow let loose from the ledge and Brody had to step back as a bunch of snow broke off and hurtled down the side of the cliff.
Looking down the steep drop, Brody contemplated his next move, and suddenly he caught sight of something bright red standing out from the white snow. Brody squinted his eyes trying to make out what it was.
Yes, that was it!
Brad’s plane!
Jason had described the red plane with the white Aero Anderson logo to him, and sure enough, there it was.
But it was further down from where he was, and he couldn’t see a way to get down there—definitely not with his board.
Brody considered his options.
His board was all he knew.
His comfort zone. His area of expertise.
But it had to go.
He unstrapped his board from his feet and strapped it to his back with the other snowboard. The only way down to Brad was to climb. His hands shook and it felt like his heart raced a thousand beats per second, but everyone was counting on him.
He had to do it.
Brody climbed out onto a slim ledge of ice, and looked down to find somewhere to put his foot further down. He found somewhere and soon he had the hang of it—looking for places to put his hands and feet—knowing that a single misstep could cost him his life—and potentially Brad’s .
At one point, his foot slipped and he felt a downward surge as it dangled free—threatening to take his whole body with it, plunging down into the depths—and to death. But he managed to get it back in place. After a long half hour of slow downward scaling, Brody had reached the wreck site.
He made his way over, stepping gingerly onto the plane’s wing to peer into the cockpit.
Yes, there was Brad! Obscured by the plane door, but definitely there.
“Brad!” Brody called out, but there was no response.
He bent down and pried open the pilot’s door.
Brad was in a heavy-duty snowsuit, with a hat covering his head and neck, and goggles covering his eyes. That was a good thing, as all of these would retain his body heat. On the cold of the slopes, the right clothes could save your life.
“Brad!” Brody tried to wake him, but to no avail. He was breathing shallow—but alive .
Brody realized he would have to drag him out, no easy feat, as Brad was a large man.
Brody tried to get a hold on Brad, but Brad was bigger than him, and it was a struggle. But Brody knew that he was everyone’s last hope, and that gave him a
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