by Jamie Beck
Like a reflex, she grinned and turned to face him. Only two weeks earlier she’d stormed out of his apartment, relieved his insulting nickname for Kelsey had weakened her growing crush. Sadly, that feeling had only lasted until their next therapy session. Now she was back to battling against her attraction every minute they spent together.
Even dressed in old gray sweatpants and a faded Whistler hoodie, he looked handsome. She raised her brows in question. “Why do you say that?”
Grey took the skis out of her hands and put them back against the wall. “You grew up here. You’ve skied all your life, right?”
“So?” She chafed at the way he’d swooped in and taken over.
“You ski the whole mountain?” His hands rested on his hips.
“Yes.”
“Ever go out of bounds?”
“Not often.” When he grimaced, she said, “I’ve got to be careful. An injury could affect my ability to work.” The minute she heard her words, she felt idiotic. If anyone understood how a serious injury could mess with one’s profession, Grey did. Fortunately, he let the comment pass.
“Regardless, that particular Atomic is for beginners. The radius is too short for you, and there’s not enough rocker for the times when you might need it.”
“But it’s the prettiest pair and it’s half price.” Her protest made him roll his eyes. “Hey, Atomic makes a good product.”
“I know, but that’s not the right ski for your needs.” Grey studied the other skis still available, his silvery eyes focused, thoughtful, serious. Eventually he picked out a red set of K2s. “Now this ski is perfect for someone like you. A medium-length radius, rocker/camber/rocker combo, and a strong core reinforced with bamboo. It’s even got skin grommets built into the tip and tail in case you want to hike up a ridge.”
“But that red clashes with my ski outfit.” She heard Grey laugh, like Matt used to do when he disagreed with her decisions. Her body lit with heat, making her snippy. “What’s so funny?”
“Normally you aren’t afraid of throwing different colors together.” He held out both hands to fend off the light punch she threw his way. “Come on, Avery. You know gear isn’t about fashion. This is an all-mountain ski that will do everything you need for your level of skiing. I promise, I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”
His sincerity softened her attitude, making her realize she’d overreacted. Grey wasn’t Matt.
“You have no idea what level I am.” She gestured between them. “We’ve never skied together.”
“Maybe we’ll remedy that next season.” He watched her closely, as if willing her reaction to confirm that he would, in fact, ski again. Of course, all she could think about was the idea of skiing with him, which made her flush. “In the meantime, I can tell you’re athletic. Your brother’s an instructor. And the fact you ever go out of bounds tells me you’re technically an intermediate to advanced skier, probably the latter. But if you don’t trust me, ask your boyfriend when he comes back.”
She felt her eyebrows pinch together until she realized he must’ve seen her with Andy. “You mean the blond guy who just walked off a few minutes ago?”
“Yeah.”
“First of all, I don’t need any guy’s help making decisions. Secondly, that particular guy is my brother, not my boyfriend.”
Grey practically got whiplash when he snapped his head around, as if he might still catch a glimpse of Andy. “Huh. I pictured him different.”
“Different how?”
“Well, he doesn’t look like you, to start. And he doesn’t look like a jer—” Then he stopped, chagrined. “Sorry. He looks like a normal guy.”
“He is a normal guy.” She felt the heat rise to her cheeks again, this time for less pleasant reasons.
Grey shoved his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. “I’m sorry if I offended you. Give me a break here. If he’s a monster in my head, it’s because he’s caused me a shitload of trouble.”
A beat or two of silence passed as each of them emotionally withdrew. Andy might as well be a concrete wall dividing her from any fantasy she harbored about Grey.
“You don’t need to swear to make your point. I get it. But he’s just a regular guy who made a bad mistake. One he’s very sorry about, and one he’ll be paying for, too, probably with his freedom.”
“Truce.” Grey held up his hands to reveal two fresh lollipops, one of which he handed to her. She took his response as a sign he disliked conflict. He stuffed a lollipop in his self-conscious grin, and redirected the conversation. “So, you want these K2s?”
“Maybe.” She pulled at her ponytail, unwilling to let him think he’d made the decision for her.
“Stubborn girl. Bet you’d take them if I told you not to.” His tone rang with admiration instead of scorn.
Rather than confirm or deny his claim, she changed the subject. “So, what are you here looking for, anyway?”
“Considering picking up a bunch of cheap facemasks, gloves, and other stuff that gets ruined or lost easily.”
“No new skis? The prices are amazing.”
He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Not in the budget this year.”
Of course not. Once again she’d shoved her foot in her mouth. “Well, if you were buying a new pair, which would you choose?”
Without hesitation, he beelined to a set of black skis, one of which had a red tip. “These beauties.” He lifted the Volkl V-Werks BMT 94s off the wall. “Light as air, full rocker, carbon center.” He whistled. “Even at half price they’re still over five hundred bucks. Right now it’d be a stupid waste of money I don’t have, especially since these are big-mountain skis, and no one can promise me I’ll be skiing in the backcountry again.” He set them back, staring longingly.
“Avery the woman” wanted to combat his worry, to make him the promise he wanted—needed—to hear. But “Avery the PT” could not make recovery promises she couldn’t absolutely keep.
Her increasing emotional attachment to Grey was exactly why that code of ethics existed. One major reason why she should not spend time holding his hand in parks, listening to him play piano in his apartment, or hanging around with him outside the clinic. Personal feelings compromised objectivity.
Knowing the difference between what she wanted to do and what she should do gave her the strength to say nothing, even though it gutted her.
As if sensing her discomfort, he sighed. “I’ve got to meet up with Trip. See you next week, Bambi.” He turned to go, then glanced over his shoulder. “Whatever you do, do not buy those K2s.” He winked before weaving through the open cardboard boxes and folding tables strewn throughout the tent.
She noticed him favoring one leg. Something else they needed to work on next week. Just before she lost sight of him, she spotted Kelsey approaching him. Another person Avery didn’t want to see hurt because of something developing between her and Grey.
After they’d disappeared, she stood there at a loss for a minute. She’d come today looking for a new pair of skis yet no longer wanted any, not even the K2s Grey had just tried to trick her into buying with his silly attempt at reverse psychology. She walked back to the Volkls he prized. Lifting them up, she gently slid her hand over them, almost as if she were massaging Grey’s leg instead of the smooth, lacquered surface of the ski.
Everything about her interactions with that man skirted ethical lines. Yet here she stood, once more pushing aside the tiny voice reminding her not to become personally involved with her patient. Some secret, unfamiliar, scary, wonderfully daring part of her flouted the rules where Grey was concerned.
Maybe she couldn’t make a promise about his recovery, but she could provide encouragement and incentive. Her financial concerns paled in comparison to the red-hot need to give him hope. Decision made, she unwrapped the sucker he’d given her, stuck it in her mouth, and smiled.
“You seem distracted.” Trip flung a pencil at Grey from across the desk.
“Sorry. You know I hate this spreadsheet shit.” Grey leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “I’m frustrated.”
“Because of the numbers?” Trip leaned forward.
“No.” Grey clucked. “Well, partly. I’ve always hated paperwork, but the skiing part of this business made it tolerable. Being up on the mountain, stomping big air, working with clients. That’s what I love. Not this shit.”
“But you gotta do this stuff, Grey.”
“What if this is all I ever get to do from now on?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head hung low. “Dammit, that’s depressing.”
“Don’t think that way. Attitude is half the battle. It’s only been a month since your surgery. You’ve got a long road ahead of you, but you’ll get there.”
“Meanwhile Andy Randall is walking around town, able-bodied.” Grey looked up at Trip. “I finally saw him today with Avery at the tent sales.”
“Awkward.” Trip sat back, crossing his legs at his ankles.
“I didn’t meet him. Only saw him from a distance. Waited until he took off before speaking with Avery.”
“Again I say, awkward.”
Grey shrugged. “Sometimes when I think about how he’s screwed up my life, I want to see him pay for it so bad. But she loves him. Not only has she said so, but I saw it in the way she looked at him, talked to him. She’s hurting over what’s happened, over how it’s affecting him, over how he’ll handle jail. And as much as I think he deserves whatever happens, I don’t like seeing her upset. And then, at the same time, I have to acknowledge the fact that I’m not the only one facing an uncertain future.”
“Don’t beat yourself up for feeling victimized. Sure, he’s looking at serious charges, but you didn’t cause his trouble. He brought that un himself.” Trip narrowed his eyes. “As for Avery, I know you’ve got a little crush on her, and I get it, but don’t get sidetracked.”
Grey waved his hand in the air. “I know what’s at stake. I just wish I had a crystal ball. If I knew I’d fully recover, I’d be a lot more patient and forgiving.”
“I’ve skied with some of the best athletes. The toughest guys. You’re one of them, Grey, so don’t get soft on me now. If anyone can overcome this injury, it’s you.”
Grey smiled. “Guess some part of all those cheerleaders you’ve seduced has rubbed off on you.”
Trip grinned, slow and easy. “Can you blame me for liking girls with spirit . . . and pom-poms?”
“On that note, I’m taking Shaman out for a walk.” Grey pushed out of the chair. “See you in a while.”
Normally his walks with Shaman cleared Grey’s head. Not today.
Today he kept focusing on how his knee ached from the dankness. How worried he was about his future. How pretty Avery looked in her pink fleece earlier. How impossible it was to see her and not want to stay close to her. How grateful he was that Andy had turned out to be her brother instead of her boyfriend.
When he and Shaman entered the apartment, Trip was lying on the sofa watching golf on television and drinking a beer.
Grey tossed his keys on the coffee table. “You locked up downstairs?”
“Yep.” Trip chugged another gulp.
“Any calls or new climbing tours booked?”
“Nope. But we had a visitor.” Trip shot a look toward the corner of the room, to where the Volkls Grey had admired earlier now sat propped against the wall.
He blinked. It had to have been Avery, but it couldn’t have been her. But it had to be. His heart thumped hard against his ribs.
“Pretty sweet gift from your therapist.” Trip sat up. “I tried to grill her a bit, but she didn’t say much. Something you want to tell me?”
Grey shook his head as he walked over to the skis and tested the flex again. “I don’t understand.” He twirled back toward Trip. “Avery bought these? For me?”
“Bingo.” Trip turned down the television. “Seems you’ve been holding out on me.”
“No. I’m as shocked as you. Aside from the rainy day she drove me home, I’ve only seen her at the clinic. She’s very strict about the whole ethics thing.” For one minute, all the crap he’d been thinking about vanished, making room for a surge of hope and happiness.
Closing his eyes, he pictured her in that tent, imagined her debating the idea and defiantly grabbing these skis. For him. She’d done it for him, which made him feel like he’d just won a freestyle-skiing gold medal.
“Not so strict, it would seem.” Trip came and stood near Grey, retrieving a small envelope from his pocket. “Helluva great set of skis, though. She left you this note.”
Grey’s heart pounded harder as he withdrew the small notecard from its envelope, straining, as always, to read the loopy scrawl.
Grey,
I’ll do everything in my power to get you back on big-mountain terrain. I won’t give up as long as you don’t.
Avery
He felt his nose tingle, so he coughed and stuffed the card back in the envelope before slipping it into his own pocket. She hadn’t made him a promise, but the skis proved she thought it possible.
Of course, he wanted to believe there was more behind this gift. That other feelings motivated her generosity. But that leap might only be wishful thinking. Wishful thinking that would probably result in heartache.
In either case, he couldn’t let her spend that kind of money on him. Even if they were becoming friends, it was too much. And he didn’t like the idea of her pity. “I can’t keep these.”
“You can’t return them. Final Sale means final.” Trip slapped Grey on the shoulder. “You two are quite a strange pair. This is going to be an interesting off-season, no doubt about it.”
Grey placed the skis against the wall before he walked back to his room and closed the door. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone. Several minutes later, he dialed Avery.
“Hello,” she answered. Just the sound of her voice made his heart speed up again.
“You never told me you moonlighted for the Make-A-Wish Foundation.”
Her soft laugh made him wish she were sitting beside him so he could see her dimples.
“I guess you got my surprise.”
“I did, thanks.” He hesitated. “Much as I love them and appreciate your generosity, I can’t keep them, Bambi.”
“You have to keep them. I can’t take them back.”
“Then I’m going to have to repay you somehow. I don’t mean to step on your gesture, but I’m not comfortable being a charity case.”
“It’s not charity. If Andy hadn’t hit you, you’d have bought those skis today. I saw your face, read the worry written all over it. I bought them to keep you motivated. I bought them because it made me feel better, like I could make a small difference in this terrible situation my brother created. It’s the first time I’ve felt good in weeks. Please don’t take that away from me.”
He let her words sink in. “Then at least let me take you out to dinner as a thank-you.”
She fell silent on the other end of the line, causing his body to heat up with discomfort. “Grey, that’s very sweet, but I can’t date a patient.”
“Who said anything about a date?” he covered. “Surely you can share a friendly meal.”
“Oh.” She hesitated again. “I think, given all the circumstances, it’s best for now if we keep things more or less professional. If you want to show me your appreciation, just work hard and follow my instructions to the letter.”
“Okay. We’ll do it your way.” He couldn’t help but grin, despite being shot down. One of these days he would wrest that need for absolute control from her.
After they said good-bye, he tossed the phone aside, fell backward on his bed and rubbed his hands over his face. Week by
week she’d been getting under his skin, chipping away at the wall he’d constructed years ago. The one he’d built to avoid the pain he’d suffered after losing Juliette. Lord knew it had been too long since he’d let his heart run wild. Just his luck Avery—the girl with so many complications—would be the trigger.
Lying there, he imagined what he would do if she were beside him. Grey had rarely been one to waste time fantasizing, but lately it was becoming a bad habit. Like all bad habits, he suspected it would probably end up biting him in the ass.
Chapter Seven
“Go on in. I’ll wait out here for Emma.” Avery patted Andy on the shoulder. “Good luck.”
He shot her a sideways glance, his sandy-colored hair flopping over his brows. “I couldn’t wait to leave high school. Can’t believe I’m back here now, about to air my dirty laundry to a bunch of teenagers who aren’t going to listen to me anyway.”
“You don’t know that. Even if you only get through to five of them, that’s five kids you’ll help save from trouble.” She hugged him. “Em and I will sit up front for moral support. Don’t forget, we need to zip out of there when you’re done so I can run you home and make it back to the clinic for my four-o’clock appointment.”
“I’ll meet you back here, then.” Andy kissed her forehead, then pushed open the glass door and disappeared.
After slumping onto a bench, Avery rubbed her hands together for warmth. She hadn’t sat there for a dozen years. Unlike Andy, she treasured her high school memories—the days when she, Em, and Kelsey wandered these halls. Honors classes, football games, passing notes. Carefree fun.
When she looked around to check for Emma, she noticed Grey crossing the street.
Accustomed to seeing him in his gym clothes, her pulse stuttered and her mouth fell open at the Overland-catalog-model look he sported. Faded jeans hung low on his hips. He’d raised the shearling collar of his rugged lambskin leather jacket to keep away the chill. Unusually brisk early May winds ruffled his overgrown hair. The square lines of his jaw emphasized his masculinity.