Her stomach dropped. Oh, shit, he was mad. She’d caused trouble, hadn’t she? “Um, yeah.”
Mr. Bzdyl held up a finger. “That boy eats here free through New Year’s. His money is no good. Yes?”
“Yes,” said Evangeline, now full-on grinning. “Charlotte, you should be sure to tell him. So he’ll come back every day.”
Charlotte groaned and hid her face in her hands. She couldn’t stop the flutter in her belly, though. She really didn’t have time for guys, especially the pretty, flirty kind. But, when Luke had asked her out, she’d been this close to saying yes. The way he took on the asshole squad, not hesitating for a second… She could defend herself, sure, but having backup had been useful.
And she couldn’t help being just a little turned on by watching Luke punch the groper, like her honor was more important than nearly breaking his hand. The way he’d used his body—from a purely scientific standpoint—was amazing. His muscles had flexed and released in ways she couldn’t ignore. He had a lot of power…and she was sure he could use it for more than just a ski-resort brawl.
Anything with him would probably end with a broken heart and her crying into her pillow because he’d cheated on her. But those butterflies in her stomach gave her away—she was seriously thinking about giving him a chance.
“You okay over there?” Evangeline was laughing.
“Yes.” Charlotte dropped her hands and waited for Mr. Bzdyl to go back to the kitchen before asking, “Say Luke asked me out—would I be making a huge mistake saying yes?”
“Are you kidding? He’s gorgeous.” Evangeline waved a dish towel in front of Charlotte’s face. “Didn’t you notice?”
“Oh, yeah, I noticed. And he did ask me out.” She sighed and leaned against the counter, toying with the tie on her apron. “It’s just…I don’t have time for this. All my hours are reserved for working, sleeping, and studying for my MCAT. A relationship isn’t in the plan. Especially not with a guy like that.”
“A guy like what? The package might scream player, but the actions sound like Prince Charming.”
Evangeline had a point—what did Charlotte actually know about Luke, except that he’d been mostly respectful? “Mostly” in the “catching him eyeing her chest” sense. Then again, what guy hadn’t? One of her high school friends had teasingly said, after a world history lesson on Troy, “Char’s tits could launch a thousand ships.”
She’d whacked him in the back of the head with her Algebra II book for it.
Charlotte shook her head. Maybe she was being too hard on Luke. How shallow of her, to judge a guy by his cover.
But snowboarding? That sounded like the most embarrassing first date ever, especially since she had a feeling Luke was very good at it, given how the Cold Coffee Girl had fawned all over him. Maybe she should agree, but only if he would quiz her on MCAT facts in return.
“So? Are you going out with him or not?” Evangeline waggled her eyebrows. “Because you should totally hit that and damn the consequences.”
Charlotte scurried to wipe down the bar, trying to hide her blush. “I did say ‘maybe.’ So I imagine he’ll come back.”
“Oh, girl. He’ll be back tomorrow, unless my powers of deduction fail me.” Evangeline held up a hand and ticked off her fingers. “One, he punched a guy who messed with you. Two, he’s watched you every second he’s been here—both days. Three, he flexed for you once or twice.” When Charlotte laughed, Evangeline shot her a look. “I was watching—and that flex made the estrogen in this room spike into the red. My hand to God. Four, he touched your hand. He was practically doing a mating dance—you had to notice.”
“I did.” Charlotte hadn’t been able to keep from looking back at him after that. Luke had some kind of superpower. “Okay, I’ll go out with him, if he asks again tomorrow.”
“Oh, he will.” Evangeline threw a washcloth at her. “Now let’s get this place cleaned up. Word on the mountain is some very hot, very talented snowboardcross guys are at the resort to train, and I want to go shopping.”
“We’re going to go watch them work out?” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Watching a bunch of guys snowboard sounds like watching paint dry.”
“You’ve never watched SBX before, have you?” Evangeline’s expression turned dreamy. “A bunch of guys hauling ass down the mountain, trying to knock one another out of the way? It’s like the world’s best alpha-dog fight. So hot, it almost melts the snow. I’d have Kit Morgan’s babies if he showed interest.”
Charlotte looked up from the table she was wiping down. “Kit who?”
“Only the number two SBXer in the world. Thick brown hair, big brown eyes, and an ass that could start a war.” Evangeline heaved a dramatic sigh. “He’s a god among mortals, and I intend to make him mine. So, come with to keep it from being weird. Bring a book if you think you’ll be bored.”
“Fine, fine.” Standing out in the cold for hours after her shift sounded like pure torture, but she liked to make Evangeline happy after all her family had done for Charlotte. “You have a thick jacket I can borrow? I have long johns, but nothing else warm enough to wear.”
“I have everything you need.”
Trying to stifle another yawn, Charlotte went back to cleaning. Maybe they wouldn’t have to stay up there too long. She wanted to get at least three hours of studying in before collapsing into bed at eight thirty. Those few days off, spending time with her family, were really sounding good, even if she was worried about her mom. She’d get some sleep on the plane, for one thing. And she’d be able to sit for longer than fifteen minutes at a time for another. She was tired down to her bones, and she needed some time to recoup.
And maybe to rest up for her potential date with Luke.
Chapter Seven
Luke
“Your speed is good,” Michael said after timing Luke down the Cirque. They were standing at the foot of the SBX course, waiting for Luke’s turn. “About as fast as the bottom end of the men’s team, and on less training.” He laughed. “You know some of the best guys up there barely ride, maybe twice a week? They don’t have to—they train in other areas. But really, they’re just that good.”
Luke fought to keep his frustration from showing on his face. He could do this—he could own the mountain. Someone just needed to give him a chance. “I can be that good.”
“Yeah, you can, but you need to fix some things. For starters, I want you in the gym doing core work, Pilates, and anything else to shred your upper body. You’re heavier and taller than the best of the elite. That’s a disadvantage and an advantage all in one. We’re going to eliminate the disadvantage and turn you into a wrecking ball.”
Michael had a point. Being big wasn’t always better in SBX. The elite guys on the U.S. team ran about five-ten to six feet, and the heaviest was right at two hundred pounds. Most of the world’s best weighed one ninety or less. Luke had put on a lot of muscle the last few years. If he could whittle his frame down to less than 8 percent body fat at two fifteen and six-one, he’d have physics on his side. But only if he could manage his board as well—or better—than the rest. Upper body strength only got you so far in this sport.
Luke heard the starting buzzer go off, and he turned to watch a pair of guys start their run. One was Kit Morgan, number two in the world, the star of the current U.S. men’s A team and practically a lock for captain after this season. The other was a rookie, Tucker Sommers, and based on the talk, a hotdog jackass of a boarder, a phenom who’d made the U.S. B team out of nowhere in his first year. Luke believed the rumors within twenty seconds of their run. Kit was all discipline, riding his board on a razor’s edge, picking out the very best line effortlessly. Tucker, more fearless, but less refined, used brute force to do his work. He cut inside on Kit, forcing him up the embankment. Kit hung on to the turn, but barely, and took the first kicker on the outside, slowing him down. He caught Tucker again, though. The kid was sloppy, but that didn’t stop him from hip checking Kit hard, sending him caree
ning into the hay bales at the edge of the course. Tucker finished his run, whooping for finishing first, and blowing off the red-faced coach bellowing into his ear.
“Damn, what an asshole,” Luke said. “Someone needs to teach that kid a lesson.”
Michael shook his head. “I thought Kit would do it, but he plays it safe, focusing on his own run and staying out of the pack. Usually pretty smart, but not with Tucker. And you’re right. He’s an asshole. I hope he gets knocked out of the heats before you run up against him, but if you make it to finals next month, he’ll be there. Keep that in mind. He’s aiming to be the youngest member of the U.S. men’s A team in history.”
It’d be sweet to deny Tucker’s hopes for being on the team. Maybe he’d learn something. “How big is he?” Luke asked.
“Five-seven and one sixty.” Michael flashed him an evil grin. “He has a Napoleon complex. Fast, but surly. What do you expect from an eighteen-year-old? Not old enough to do anything but wag his dick at everyone.”
“Uh-huh.” It wasn’t a surprise, though. When you did a sport that was combination roller derby, horse racing, and obstacle course, only the tough survived. Luke had had his share of bone bruises, ankle sprains, and hairline fractures over the course of his career. Then again, he wasn’t willing to play it safe or act beta on a course. Kit was damn good, but he should’ve put the youngster out of his misery.
“What can you expect?” Michael asked. “Guy that green shows up thinking he rules the course, it’s going to be rough.”
Luke choked back a laugh. “Most of these guys are closing in on thirty. I’ll probably get the same treatment.”
“Nah, you can go to the bar for a beer with them. You pass the test. Plus, you’ve been around the development circuit for years. They know you understand how the pecking order works. And they’ve seen enough of you to be very wary.” Michael checked the time. “Your turn is coming up. Head to the top.”
Luke’s pulse quickened. He shouldered his board and headed for the lift to the starting gate at the top of the course. Snowmass had created a sweet course, at eleven hundred meters long and a two-hundred-meter drop from top to bottom. A course like this made him feel alive.
“Yo!” Luke turned to find Tucker shoving his hand between the gondola doors as they were closing. “Thanks for waiting, jackass.”
Luke stared the kid down. It wasn’t hard, since he had six inches in height on him. “Sorry. I must not have seen you there.”
Tucker scowled and dropped onto a bench, putting his boot on the other available seat.
Luke’s hackles rose, but he played it cool. Fine, if that makes him feel like a big man, I’ll stand. Only little pissants have to have their way all the time.
“Who are you, anyway?” Tucker asked.
“I’m Luke Madison.” At the kid’s raised eyebrows, Luke smirked. “You’ve heard of me, then.”
Tucker shrugged. With his shaggy, dirty-blond hair and dark eyes, he looked like one of those D-bag skate-park trolls who always had to best everyone around. “You ride in minor regionals. This is the big time, slick. Not sure you’re ready for it.”
Luke stared him down. “I’m doing my practice run next. You want to try me?”
Tucker’s face broke into a nasty smile. “Bro, do I ever.”
The gondola stopped, and Luke made a mocking gesture to let Tucker out first, before following him up to the start gate. Once there, Luke strapped on his board, taking a few slow, deep breaths. Adrenaline was good, but nerves weren’t. He needed to be just in control enough not to lose it. Tucker, on the other hand, had turned more kinetic. The kid simply couldn’t stay still.
Shaking his head, Luke went to lane two and dropped in, keeping Tucker in his peripheral vision.
“You two ready?” the course master asked. When they nodded, he started the clock.
“Sixty seconds,” droned the automated voice.
Luke stared down the course, noting the turns, where the moguls were.
“Forty-five seconds.”
Turn two is going to be the make or break. It was sharp to the left, on his weak side, and his heavier weight could slingshot him off his line.
“Thirty seconds.”
The rollers are going to be a piece of cake, though.
“Fifteen seconds.”
Luke closed his eyes for a breath and said a prayer to the snowboarding gods.
“Five.”
His muscles tensed.
“Four.”
Tucker let out a whoop.
“Three.”
Luke’s hands gripped the rails tight, ready to push himself off.
“Two.”
This was it.
A horn blasted, signaling the start. Luke pushed off, staying low and gaining as much momentum as he could from the first hill. By the time he ran through the first set of rollers and hit turn two, he couldn’t even see Tucker in his peripheral vision.
Luke cut toward the inside a bit to tackle turn two. He was right—he had to use every bit of his core and knees to stay on track. His board skidded a little under him, but he pulled it back in for the next set of rollers.
The squeak of snow under a board was the only warning he had. Tucker, as he’d predicted, had sailed through turn two and caught up. As they came up on turn three, Tucker clipped Luke, throwing him off his line.
On the plus side, giving someone much bigger a little love tap had forced Tucker onto an inside part of the rollers that came out onto the straightaway at a funny angle. Luke cut hard, speeding after him. They hit turn four neck and neck and hit the final kicker. To Luke’s surprise, Tucker came down from the jump almost even with him, unusual because kickers were Luke’s strong suit. He had just enough reach to repay the bump with a hip check of his own. Tucker’s board went out from under him, sending him sprawling into the safety barrier, while Luke sailed across the line.
Michael was at the end, laughing his ass off. Kit Morgan was at his right, his hand covering what appeared to be a gleeful grin. Luke slid their way and cut hard to stop, sending up a spray of snow.
“I know time doesn’t matter—it’s win or die,” Michael said, once he recovered. “But that was damn fast, my friend. Good job.”
Kit was nodding. “You ride like that in competition, you’ll wreck us all.”
Luke stood taller. He’d impressed the best SBXer in the U.S. That didn’t happen every day. “Thanks, man. I doubt I’ll get around you, but a one-two finish is good enough for me.”
“Keep your confidence and avoid injuries, and you’ll make it.” Kit gave him a quick wave and skated over to the hordes of fans—mostly women—crowding the barrier for his autograph.
“That’s big praise, coming from him,” Michael said. “I’m pleased—”
Michael’s eyes widened, and a voice yelled, “You raging asshole!”
Next thing Luke knew, he was toppled into the snow with a body on top of him. Tucker took a swing at him, but Luke threw him off like the kid was bedcovers. “What the fuck, man?”
“You could’ve hurt me up there.” Tucker pushed himself up, shaking with rage. His face was purple, and his expression reminded Luke of a bully who’d been put in his place. “What were you trying to do, knocking me out like that?”
Luke put his hands on his hips. “Paying you back for bumping me and Kit. If you can’t take it, don’t dish it out.”
Tucker flipped him off and stalked away. Michael shook his head. “That guy either needs a blow job or put in time-out for a few weeks. Jesus.”
Luke took a deep breath to calm down. He dusted snow off his ski pants, knowing his back was probably pure white. “He’s too high-strung for his own good. Someone needed to show him we mean business up there.”
Michael shoved his stopwatch back into his pocket. “Enough snow for one day. I expect to see you at the gym at eight a.m. tomorrow. Eat clean and get some sleep.”
Luke picked up his board and saluted his coach. “You’re the boss.”
“And you’re paying me plenty to say so!” Michael called after him. “Make me earn it!”
Luke waved at him, thinking he’d take the gondola down rather than ride. His muscles were pretty sore, and overdoing it was as bad as being half-assed about training. He turned to go, but a voice called out, “Luke!”
The adrenaline spike he’d felt on the mountain returned full force. He knew that voice.
Luke turned, and there was Charlotte.
Chapter Eight
Charlotte
Charlotte’s heart was still pounding away in her chest. Knowing that Luke was a “pretty good” snowboarder didn’t quite cover what she’d just seen.
This guy was a beast.
Is it hot out here? Sure, there’s snow, but…
Luke grinned and waved at her, then bent to undo the buckles on his board. Evangeline hadn’t been lying about Kit’s ass being enough to start a war, but Luke’s could certainly cause an airstrike. When he stood and heaved his board onto his shoulder, Charlotte quickly met his eyes and flushed. Had he seen her gawking?
He came over, swaggering the way guys did after a big win at something. “I thought you didn’t snowboard?”
Charlotte pointed down the line. Her friend was taking a selfie with Kit. “ Evangeline talked me into it. She wants to have Kit’s babies.”
Luke laughed. “Based on the crowd, I don’t think she’s the only one.”
“So…this is what you do?” Charlotte made a vague gesture at the course. “I didn’t even know this was a sport until about an hour ago. It looks rough.”
And sexy. So. Damn. Hot. Those guys, crouched low, willing to knock one another over to win? Charlotte was going to have to watch the Winter Olympics next year…and take a few cold showers after.
Luke was watching her, a tiny, amused smile on his face. “Liked that, did you?”
Charlotte bit her lip. He’d said it low, husky, with a hint of a growl. Holding him off was going to be a losing cause if he kept that up. “I, um, I did. A lot.”
Crazy Love Page 4