“Everyone thinks Austin’s crazy hot. I won’t tell your boyfriend you looked.”
Sam felt all the air rush out of her lungs. “I swear, I don’t have a boyfriend.”
She didn’t know why she said that. It was true, as of six that morning, but it wasn’t this kid’s business. At all.
“You?” Sam asked, trying to get the focus off her and her now nonexistent love life.
Amelia rolled her eyes. “Like I have time for anything but skiing.”
She turned back to the mirror, wiping the last streak of red from her cheek. But before Sam could ask whether Amelia wanted time for something besides skiing, the door swung open and a gaggle of girls burst through.
“What happened to you?” one girl cried, eyeing her up and down while another poked her head out of the bathroom and shouted, “She’s here.” In seconds the bathroom was filled with clothes and chatter as the girls changed out of their gear.
“There’s no way it’s going to be enough to beat Westford,” one girl complained as she balled up her long johns.
“You don’t know that,” came a voice from one of the stalls. “The race isn’t for another week.”
Another girl checked Amelia on the hip. “You’ll be ready, right?”
“Totally,” Amelia said with complete confidence. “We’re going to kill it.”
Sam moved toward the door, away from the tornado of limbs and hair. Before she left, Amelia caught her eye in the mirror. “Thank you,” she mouthed as she brushed her hair.
“You’re welcome,” Sam said, but Amelia had already turned away, drawn in by a circle of friends ogling a text message one of them had gotten during practice. It made Sam think of the texts waiting for her from Jim, and she stifled a groan. Maybe she could delete them all without reading. Maybe she could set fire to her phone.
She opened the door and walked across the lodge, thinking of her father, her own childhood friends, long hours spent gossiping after school. Once it had felt like time was dragging on forever, but now so many things had ended. It felt like her life would never be the same.
It must have been after four—she could see through the giant windows that the lifts had stopped running. She’d get her stuff, check in to the hotel, and then catch up on the work she’d missed. And when she was sure Austin was home, she’d call and say it was time for them to meet. His home phone, or his cell phone? Well, she had time to decide. She’d run it by Steven and figure out how to proceed.
She was pushing out the double doors back to the snowy outside, trying to remember where she’d left her skis, when she felt a nudge on her shoulder. “Leaving already?”
She almost didn’t recognize him without his helmet on. His hair was dirty blond and messy in that perfect “I rolled out of bed looking this good” way Sam could never pull off. His beard was short, brown along his jaw, dusted lighter blond around his lips. His face was serious, hard, but when he smiled his eyes transformed, the edge in him softened but never entirely gone.
The nudge Sam had felt had been his forearm, because both his hands were full. He extended her a steaming paper cup.
“I didn’t get to thank you properly,” Austin said. “Unless you have to be somewhere?” Those worry lines in his forehead came back.
She should tell him. Tell him now. Actually, it’s funny that we ran into each other like this, since I’d been hoping to meet with you. I didn’t properly introduce myself. I’m Samantha Kane.
But then his face would harden, those bright, hopeful eyes would turn cold, and she didn’t want that—not yet.
She took the cup and stepped away from the door. Opposition research, she could call it. And a chance to enjoy her day just a little bit more before she went back to her real life, the one where she was the wolf at whom nobody smiled this way. “Nope, nowhere to be,” she said. “And I’d love to be thanked properly.”
Chapter Three
He was nowhere near as smooth as he’d imagined. Instead of him sitting there, relaxed, offering Sam a seat, basking in her smile as she saw the cocoa, he’d almost missed her and had to chase her down. Like he was desperate. Like he didn’t get that she had places to be. Just because she’d been nice enough to bring Amelia in didn’t mean she’d do anything but walk out the door.
But she wasn’t busy. And she even smiled at him. They sat across from each other next to the enormous windows that opened to the white of the trails. The late-afternoon sun streamed through, turning her brown hair gold. Sam had taken off her perfectly fitted ski jacket to reveal a trim black wool sweater with enough hint of a white layer that all he wanted was to pull it off and see what else she had on underneath.
Damn, he moved fast in his mind.
Relationships had an unfortunate way of getting personal, and no one needed to know the memories of his injury that still woke him in the night. But he could look. And enjoy.
Which he’d been doing ever since he first caught sight of the woman skiing down to Amelia and realized she’d clearly been on a mountain before. What he noticed second, when she got closer and lifted her goggles, was that she’d look good off skis as well. She’d look good in just about anything.
Or, for that matter, nothing at all.
She was tall, with dark eyes and finely arched brows. Austin had felt himself grow hot under her gaze, his panic at Amelia’s fall giving way to a different kind of adrenaline surge. When she’d taken his hand, the electric shock of her touch hit him so hard he could barely concentrate for the girls’ last two runs.
Austin wasn’t used to losing his focus. It was just him, the snow, the skis. But he wasn’t out on the mountain now, climbing to take off on a backcountry run. He wasn’t even worrying about that obnoxious call from Steven Park. He was doing what he never did, which was sit around the lodge and drink overpriced, too-sweet hot chocolate. Why, he wasn’t sure.
“So do you always go around saving people on the slopes?” he asked, blowing on the steaming cocoa.
“Only when I get lucky.” The corners of her lips rose—almost a smile, but not quite. He wondered what he’d have to do to earn a real one. “What about you? Is coaching always so dramatic?”
Austin shook his head. He wished he could have met her when he hadn’t been wearing a helmet for hours. He’d tried to smooth down his hair in the bathroom, but the situation was beyond help. She, though, had the perfect tousled look, long strands swept to the side, just loose enough to make him think how appealing she’d be if she really came undone.
He took a sip of cocoa, trying to keep composed. “I keep everyone upright as best I can. But Amelia…” He sighed. “I don’t know. Her times are good, but she’s been off recently. I don’t know how to get her back on track.”
“She’ll be okay,” Sam said. “She’s a great skier. They all are.”
“State semifinals six years and counting.”
“Wow!” Sam’s eyebrows shot up.
He laughed. “Actually that’s not so good—we used to win sometimes.”
“But it sounded from the team like you guys are doing well this year.”
“I know, they’ve got a real shot at advancing to the next round.”
“And Amelia?” Sam asked.
“I’ve never trained anyone like her.” It wasn’t one of those platitudes teachers liked to say. Amelia really was the best student he’d ever had. “There’s no question she’ll be in the finals for the individual slots, even if the whole team doesn’t come through. The bigger deal is that she’s being recruited for a competition in Utah that will go toward determining spots on the national team. I have a feeling she can make it as far as she wants.” He paused. “She just has to want to, of course.”
Sam frowned and put down the cup. “Too much pressure?”
“I didn’t use to think so. Now?” He played with the plastic lid. The cocoa was too sweet, but he always forgot how much he liked it anyway. “I wish I knew.”
Sam gave him a sympathetic look. “She’ll figure it out.”
&n
bsp; He smiled, embarrassed by how long he’d gone on about the team. “Sorry, too much yammering on my part. The girls are always telling me to talk about something else. Where are you in from? Here for the day?”
“I live in Seattle,” Sam said, which was what he’d guessed.
“Do you come here a lot?”
“To Gold?” She shook her head. “Not recently. I used to come with my father, but I—” Her voice caught, and she looked away. “I haven’t been up in a few years.”
“You picked a great day to do it—actual sun in the winter is a miracle. Although I hear it’s supposed to start coming down tonight.”
“Snow?” Sam turned back to him in surprise. “But it’s not even cloudy.”
“That’s the mountains for you. You can’t predict a thing around here.”
As if on cue, the bathroom doors shot open, and the team spilled out. They were chattering about whatever had happened at school when a voice that could only be Kelsey’s carried over the group. “Shut. Up.”
They all stopped, staring at Austin and Sam, and then erupted in a volley of giggles.
“You’ve never seen anyone drink cocoa before?” he demanded.
But that only made them laugh harder and they scrambled out of the lodge, singing, “’Byeeeeee, Austin! ’Bye, Sam!” as they pushed open the door.
How was it possible to be a grown-ass man and still mortified by high school girls?
“I really should get going,” Sam said as she followed the parade of girls with her eyes.
Inside, Austin cursed. But he said, “Of course. I didn’t mean to keep you.”
“You didn’t keep me. I just—work doesn’t quite know I’m taking the day off, so I should check in.” Sam waved a hand dismissively as though that covered it. No rings, he noticed. Wedding or otherwise. Nails manicured with some sort of clear, shiny polish but no other marks.
“Of course,” Austin said again, then wished he could expand his vocabulary beyond those two words. And make himself stop staring at her. “Well…thanks again for your help. I appreciated it.”
Sam nodded. She put on her jacket and tucked her face mask and goggles into her helmet to carry. For one crazy second, Austin opened his mouth to ask where she was staying, if he could call her, what she was doing tonight.
But she was the one saying good-bye. Clearly she wanted to go. She probably had someone in Seattle anyway. She carried herself with an understated confidence, not egotistical but certainly not shying away. Surely there was some successful city guy who knew how to sweep her off her feet.
“So, have a great rest of the day,” Austin said.
“Thanks, good luck with the race. And thanks for the cocoa, too.”
“Any time.”
He couldn’t tell if she was lingering or simply zipping up her coat, but after another smile she walked out the door and was gone.
Austin took one last sip of lukewarm cocoa and trashed the rest. He tried to tell himself it was for the best. Any time he wound up interested in someone, he inevitably found a way to push her away. That was his pattern, his thing. Ever since his father brought down that hammer and shattered both Austin’s knee and his world, it was too hard to let anyone in. If he really liked Sam, he’d let her walk away.
Besides, he had too many other things to worry about. Like how many voicemails he was going to have from Steven Park when he got home. And what he was going to say when he finally met Samantha Kane. She had to accept that he wasn’t selling a single tree from his land.
If she didn’t like it, that was her problem. Not his.
Chapter Four
Austin came home to a hungry dog and a sore knee—and, surprisingly, not a single message. He tried to focus on dinner, the next day’s practice, what he was going to do to get Amelia’s spark back. But getting Sam out of his mind was easier said than done. He kept returning to the sweep of her hair and the way her brown eyes crinkled when she smiled, like it wasn’t just a gesture her face did but something she actually meant.
He wasn’t sure if she was staying overnight, but as he stood under the shower, he kicked himself for not finding out. He didn’t have to go planning their breakup in his head when they hadn’t even gotten together. When are you going back to Seattle? Are you seeing anyone? Would you like to have dinner tonight? A million questions, none of them hard. He should have just picked one and asked.
He shut the water off. He knew better than anyone that there was no use rehashing the past. But he hadn’t gotten in any more skiing after practice and he was restless—too wired with thoughts of Sam’s lithe body to settle down for the night. He started in on a round of stretches his friend Claire, a massage therapist, had shown him to help with his knee. He blamed her for all this thinking. She was the first one to point out that his string of failed romances had one common denominator—him. But was that going to keep him from ever trying anything when a beautiful woman came his way?
Austin opened the fridge, closed it, and grabbed the keys to his truck. He had to get out of the house. Otherwise he might find himself calling Steven Park just to give himself something to do.
Chloe’s ears perked up from her bed. “Oh, live a little,” he admonished the dog. “It’s Tuesday! Why can’t we have any fun?”
Chloe seemed to think for a minute, then nudged her nose back down to rest.
“Fine,” Austin said. “You stay home and keep the Kanes away. But don’t wait up, okay?”
Chloe’s ear flicked. She was already asleep.
Tuesdays meant two-for-one beers at the Dipper, the local watering hole everyone called Mack Daddy’s after the bartender, Mackenzie Ellinsworth. The name enraged the chef, Connor Branding, who claimed he was the reason anyone showed up at the Dipper at all. But even though Connor was Austin’s best friend, Mack had worked there longer, and Austin couldn’t help thinking of the joint as hers.
The parking lot was mostly empty, but that was to be expected on a weeknight, just a few trucks built for snow and then, inexplicably, a silver Audi that was going to be unhappy if it stuck around once the storm started up. Austin had been right—the day’s blue sky had turned to clouds as the sun set. Now the darkness was deepening, and he could feel the damp promise of snow in the air. If it kept up through the night, tomorrow’s tracks were going to be good.
He lingered in the parking lot, watching the first flakes begin to settle, before kicking the slush and salt off his boots and stepping inside. As usual Mack was behind the bar. She waved as he walked in.
“Long time no see!” she called, and Austin laughed. He’d been there last night, playing poker with Connor after closing.
“What’ll it be?” she asked, grabbing a glass.
“You still have the Black Raven?”
Austin stood at the bar, and Mack poured the ale. He was taking his first sip when he felt a nudge on his arm.
He nearly spit his drink all over the bar. What was she doing here?
Sam had showered and changed from the afternoon, her hair no longer tousled by the helmet but smoothed in a sideways part and pulled back. She was wearing jeans and a sweater, so he could see what her ski pants had only hinted at. “Cute” didn’t seem like the right word—she had a way of carrying herself that was too self-assured for that. Beautiful felt like a cliché. What actually ran through his mind was fucking hot, but that made him sound like a caveman, so he tried to tame it down.
Still, that was all he could think of. Fucking hot.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she said with a wink.
“I had no idea you were sticking around. Did you get some work done?”
“A little. I was supposed to have some meetings, but I was able to push everything back.”
“You two know each other?” Mack asked, refilling Sam’s glass.
“Um—”
Austin started to speak as Sam said, “We met this afternoon.”
Austin flashed Mack a look that he hoped said keep your big mouth shut. “Where are you
staying?” he asked Sam.
“Up at the Cascade,” she said.
Austin and Mack exchanged glances. The Cascade was the one fancy hotel on the mountain, so expensive only the wealthiest Seattleites stayed there. Usually they never left to venture into the cluster of businesses and shops that made up the actual town. They definitely never came into Mack’s.
“I know,” Sam said, as though she could read their look. “The place is ridiculous. Someone needs to break it to them that the seventies ended a few years back. That wallpaper is a crime.”
“They’ve got a nice bar, though,” Mack said, and Austin could hear the envy in her voice. Mack wanted a real bar. Not the three rotating kegs and tub of well drinks at the Dipper, but a place where she could make infused syrups and herbal concoctions and have full control over which eighteen kinds of local gin to buy.
“I popped my head in and it looked decent,” Sam said, “but even the guy at the front desk told me to come here instead.”
Mack’s eyebrows rocketed up. She never failed to show what she was thinking. “I’m shocked they acknowledged anything outside the hotel.”
“Me, too,” Sam said. “But I said I wanted to see what the area was like, and this was where they sent me. Looks like it must be where everybody hangs out, if I ran into this one again.” She raised her glass toward Austin.
“You had a one in three chance of getting it right,” Mack said. “The mountain, the gym in his freaky basement, or here.”
“Sounds like a wild kind of guy.”
Mack laughed. “You have no idea.”
“Hey,” Austin interjected. “I’m standing right here.”
“Maybe you should grab a seat, then.” Mack gestured toward the tables.
“And leave you alone at the bar?” Austin teased.
“I’m not alone, I have Connor back there being an asshole.”
“Who’s Connor?” Sam asked.
“My best friend,” Austin said, at the same time Mack grumbled, “The worst ever.” They stared at each other for a beat and burst out laughing.
Make Me Stay (Men of Gold Mountain) Page 3