The Winter Games Box Set

by Rebecca Sharp

  I’d been out with the two of them last night, grabbing drinks after a long day on the slopes. Neither of them had heard from Chance, but we’d gotten to reminiscing about all the good times that we’d had on the mountain. Nick had brought up the makeup incident. He’d said that the only thing good about it was that at least people were able to tell Chance and me apart for once.

  And just like catching the front edge of your board, his words had me falling flat on my face, and the potential in his joke knocked the wind right out of me. His thoughtless words had inspired my current problematic plan.

  The reality was that when we had our gear on, I can’t even count how many times people mistook me for Chance’s identical twin brother—and that was if we were together; by myself, half the time I was mistaken for him.

  Even though I was slightly smaller in stature, the nature of snow gear is that it tends to obscure almost everything about a person—except the eyes, only until the goggles went on. Thankfully, all three of us had inherited our father’s bright blue stare. Now, most of the locals at Snowmass knew me because I’d been riding there basically my entire life; they knew that I was Chance’s female twin. Because when you live in a resort town, if you make it through one off-season, everyone learns your name. And I didn’t just make it through an off-season. I was part of a pair that had won countless local and several national snowboarding competitions. Just a local celebrity—no big deal.

  But the commission and the judges and the participants in this year’s Winter X Games… they weren’t locals.

  “Yes!” I exclaimed, finding Chance’s wallet in his nightstand drawer.

  “Are you sure he’s not going to come back to do this?” Ally questioned again, chewing on her lower lip.

  “He’s not. His knee won’t be healed in time,” I stated matter-of-factly. “But they don’t know that.”

  No, all the X Games commission knew was that they had extended an invitation to Chance Ryder—talented up-and-comer who was named Snowboarder Magazine’s Rookie-of-the-Year. This would have been his debut at the X Games which were being held next month right in our backyard—at our home base—Snowmass.

  Chance had been practicing his quad cork when he fell—currently the most difficult trick a rider could attempt. I’d seen him nail it a dozen times, but it only takes once—and that one mistake—that one edge—was all it took.

  One more glance in the mirror told me that the person finalizing Chance’s registration needed to look nothing like the person staring back at me right now.

  “Ally, I’m doing this,” I said to my sister. “So, you might as well swallow the rest of your protests and instead, put your energy into helping me make sure that this happens flawlessly.”

  She groaned as I walked by her again, taking the stairs two at a time. “What exactly is your plan again?”

  “I told you in the car.” Walking into the large open kitchen, I headed straight for the refrigerator where Chance’s invitation letter was posted—my blood picking up speed as I took it down off of the magnet.

  I’d insisted that it go on the fridge—I was so proud of him. He, on the other hand, had wanted to keep it in his room. We’d both taken gold in Slopestyle at the Burton U.S. Open Snowboarding Championships two years ago; last year… well, last year, Chance had taken gold again. I, on the other hand, hadn’t placed—a memory that I’d been trying to erase ever since.

  In any case, Chance had been the only one invited to the X Games and after his stellar performance, it was no surprise. However, I could see the guilt in his eyes that he’d been chosen and I hadn’t and I knew it was because he blamed himself for what happened to me at the Open even though it hadn’t been his fault. As much as we competed and gave each other shit, Chance knew that I was just as good a rider as he was.

  Snowboarding was still a man’s world—there wasn’t much he or I could do about it; I certainly wasn’t going to punish him for his success.

  “I know,” Ally retorted. “But, I was in shock and I need to hear it again.”

  I stared blankly at the words on the paper before turning to roll my eyes at her.

  “Well, right now, I have to head over to the mountain to finalize Chance’s place in the competition. Today is the last day to register which means that if I don’t go down there now, they will give the spot to someone else.”

  “But, you’re going as you?”

  I rolled my eyes again. “Yes. I have his license and his invitation. And I’m his sister. No one is going to question it. They know he was injured. I’ll just tell them that he is on the road to recovery but had a physical therapy appointment that he couldn’t miss, so I’m accepting the invitation on his behalf. It’s just paperwork that needs to be filled out. It will be fine.” I repeated the words less for my sister’s benefit and more for my own.

  “And you aren’t concerned at all that they will see just how much the two of you look alike?” Alice raised an eyebrow. “That they might recognize you later? Yeah, I get you wear a helmet and blah, blah, blah, but you aren’t identical, Chan, no matter how much you act or dress like one of the guys—you aren’t.”

  She gave me an eye that said most people might be fooled for a second, but anything longer than that made my lady-parts clearly distinguishable.

  She was wrong, I told myself. She was just trying to get me to give up my idea. I was definitely more compactly built. Ok, so my chest was a solid B-cup in the week surrounding my period, which could be a giveaway, and my hips did have a slight flare to them. However, with the right clothes, I could definitely pass as my brother in the short term.

  I bit my cheek. She had a point, though.

  She had a really, really good point.

  A smile broke over my face—the kind that made my sister’s eyes turn wary of what I was thinking to remedy her concern.

  “You’re right, Ally,” I agreed. “Which is why I’m going to need to borrow some of your girl clothes right now and you’re going to have to put some makeup on my face.”

  Her eyes went wide. “What?!” She shook her head frantically. Apparently, it was one thing to know about my plan, but it was another thing to be a willing participant.

  It was the makeup that had sparked this whole idea. And now it seemed like it had another role to play.

  She stood agape. I reached out, grabbed her arm, and pulled her behind me as we went upstairs to where our bedrooms were.

  I didn’t have time for any disagreement.

  The registration office closed at five and considering I finished my lessons early today, picked up Ally at Peace and a Cup of Joe—the coffeehouse where she worked—at three-thirty, stopped to put gas in my Jeep so I could make it back to work later, and then arrived home; I didn’t have a whole lot of time left to get back to the resort.

  “I can’t believe you are doing this,” she said as she complied with my request, putting some sort of something on my eyelids. “Stop moving.”

  “I can’t help it. Stupid stuff makes me itchy,” I grumbled.

  I couldn’t believe I was doing this either. Then again, I spent every day of the week taking huge risks with my life in order to pursue what I loved. Posing as my brother in the Winter X Games seemed like a small gamble compared to strapping my two feet to a waxed piece of wood, sliding down a mountain at appreciable speeds, only to fly off of a ledge, soaring into the air, and flipping head-over-heals while spinning. All with the expectation that I would land safely back on my feet.

  “Aren’t there going to be tons of riders coming to the mountain in the next couple weeks to prepare? Won’t they notice how one of the contestants is conspicuously absent on the slopes even though his sister isn’t?”

  I gnawed on my lip. “Maybe. I’ll have to see how they close the slopes. Plus, not everyone practices here before the games. I can just say that Chance is practicing on a private facility—fewer questions that way.” Ally just murmured in response, not quite believing my assumption. “Or I could go out there and p
ractice as him. But, that would mean I might have to bring Emmett and Nick into this…” I trailed off, noticing how my sister frowned at their names. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Whatever. I didn’t have time for her drama right now. “No, I think it’s better if I stick to my normal routine - ride in the morning, teach my lessons, and then pull a quick change before I head to the bar. If I see anyone getting suspicious of his absence… well… I’ll figure something out.” I hoped.

  I worked at Snowmass teaching snowboarding to every level of rider; that was in the afternoon. That was usually after I’d already spent a few hours on the slopes riding with Emmett and Nick; if the conditions were shit, I’d hang out at Cup of Joe with Ally. And then around six or so, I made my way over to Ice Breakers (Breakers for short)—the upscale bar inside of the resort and bartended there until about midnight. Same routine. Every day. If there was a change in the work schedule and I ended up with more free time, it was spent on the mountain.

  The plan is going to work. Just breathe, Channing.

  It was a perfectly rational plan. Aside from the fact that I was impersonating someone in an international sporting competition. Yup, perfectly rational.

  “What, Ally?” I asked again. Even though my eyes were closed while she put the black goopy stuff—alright, mascara—on my eyelashes, I could tell she was in deep thought.

  “I just don’t think any of this is a good idea.”

  “It’s the only idea,” I replied firmly, opening my eyes.

  “No, not—” She broke off, realizing it was too late, I’d already smudged the stuff on my eyelids. “Not yet.”

  “This was his dream—our dream,” I said quietly, standing and walking over to her closet to pull out a tight lavender sweater. “He might not be here or be able to fulfill it, but he deserves it. If you saw his face the weeks before he fell, you would have known how much this meant to him.” And how much it meant to me to make it up to him. Swallowing my guilt, I tugged my hoodie and t-shirt off in one motion, grateful that I’d worn my white lace bra this morning—the pink one would have shown through the sweater.

  Ok, I’ll admit it, there’s one area that I did enjoy girly things and that was underwear—the lacier, the frillier, the brighter, the sexier… the better. It was always hidden underneath everything, so no one would ever know. And I was always on the mountain, so let’s face it—no one ever did know.

  “That invitation is for a Ryder and if Chance isn’t going to be here to win it, then I am,” I said determinedly. Thankfully, the sweater was over my face to obscure the thickness in my voice.

  It should have been Chance. He was always the better rider.

  I knew he’d thought he had to win this, not just for himself, but for me. Because of what happened at the Open. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. He deserved this title and I was going to get it for him.

  “Channing.” Her voice stopped me on my way back down the stairs and I spun to face her.

  “I know, Ally. I know you think it’s a bad idea, but I have to do it which means I have to go,” I huffed.

  “Have you thought about what would happen?” Her voice followed me.

  “I won’t get caught—and I don’t have the time to think about the consequences if I do; you don’t approach a jump worrying about what happens if you fall—you focus on what you have to do to make sure you land.” I grabbed my keys off the table in the entryway and opened the door into the garage, heading for my car parked outside.

  “No, Chan, I don’t mean what if you get caught,” she yelled after me as I walked out of the garage and opened my car door. “I meant what would happen if you win!”

  ALLY’S WORDS REPLAYED OVER AND over in my head during my ten-minute drive back over to the Snowmass resort.

  What would happen if I won?

  It was quarter to five and I didn’t have much time. I pulled into the Reserved parking lot, knowing that security would recognize my car and let it be for one night. I rarely took advantage of my friendship with Nate, Charlie, and the rest of the security guys since they usually tried to walk me to my car every night—unless the resort was really busy—and fend off any unwanted advances from patrons at the bar (a rare occurrence). I had a feeling that Chance had asked them to look out for me when I started bartending, but now I knew they did it because they genuinely cared about me and not because my brother had asked them to.

  Ugh! Why was every freaking spot filled?!

  Skiers and snowboarders from all over the world had started to arrive in preparation for the Winter X Games. Not too many yet, but in the next week or so, the mountain would be packed. And lots of special guests meant a fuller VIP parking lot.

  Yes! A spot!

  I glimpsed a spot near the end of the second row—or what hopefully was a spot since it was partially obscured by the giant Chevy parked next to it. I pressed on the gas and sped up—the minutes were ticking down. Silently praising the Wrangler’s turning radius, I swung into the space—and subsequently took out the row of snowboards that had been resting alongside the Range Rover parked on the other side of the open spot, the boards only coming into my view in the last second as I made the turn.

  Son of a biscuit! I slammed on my brakes.

  Like Miley-fucking-Cyrus, I came in like a wrecking ball.

  The sickening smack of the carbon-fiber infused wood against the pavement made my entire body cringe. And the string of expletives that left my mouth I had Emmett to thank for. Asshole.

  Backing up, I swung my car closer to the other side of the spot, a safe distance from the fallen mass of boards. I threw the Jeep into first and yanked up the e-brake.

  “Shit,” I swore, climbing down to examine the mess I’d made.

  “I’d say it was a strike,” a deep voice rumbled from behind me. Accented and unfamiliar, it stirred muscles in my body that I didn’t even know existed in ways that I hadn’t known were possible.

  I spun around, unable to stop my jaw from dropping at the gorgeous man leaning against the side of the SUV with his legs crossed and his eyes on me. My gaze slid uncontrollably up his figure—the dark jeans that fit snugly around muscled legs, a tailored button-down shirt that was stretched almost to the brink of splitting by the broad chest underneath it. His strong jawline, sculpted face, and symmetrical lips were textbook from the only part of my Greek mythology class worth remembering. The molten brown eyes that matched his warm brown hair cut tight on the sides and styled on top completed the Greek-God-meets-rugged-businessman look. And if that wasn’t enough, the earthy, masculine scent of him wafted over to me, clinging to every pore as I inhaled deeply.

  I didn’t smoke, but the SnowmassHoles loved some good weed. Was this what they meant by a contact high?

  I took in all of him—his stance, his expression, his scent. This man was breathtaking—potent masculinity simmering with complete confidence and pure sex; I clenched my legs together to try to stop the fire that it ignited between them. And to top it all off, he was wearing a freaking blazer.

  I was turned on by a man in a blazer. What was the world coming to?

  Not that I dated much (read: at all), but I freely admitted to having a type—and that type was your typical snowboarder. Wardrobe: loose jeans, Henley tees, and Vans sneakers– when not in snow gear that is. The problem was that I was too good a friend with most of them to actually look at them any other way. The other problem was that I tried so hard to be ‘one of the guys’ that none of them could really look at me any other way—especially if they wanted to stay friends with Chance. Or ever snowboard at Snowmass again.

  But there was no way this guy was a snowboarder. And yet, my body wanted to jump him.

  Worst case—he was a skier. Chances were, he was a sponsor, rep, or some sort of agent for one of the riders who’d arrived today. Or—most likely—a model for the brands Burton or Ride. Any of those would explain the slew of boards I’d just crashed into.

  Son-of-a-biscuit, I w
as still staring. “Excuse me?” I pretended that I hadn’t heard him. The reality was that my brain had completely forgotten what he said because his hotness had seared it from my mind.

  “A strike,” he repeated as his warm eyes melted over me; the lilt in his voice was definitely Canadian—enough of them came down here to ride for me to recognize it on hearing him speak a second time.

  As he looked down my body, every cell underneath his gaze was set ablaze. I sucked in a breath, feeling my nipples harden painfully against the lace of my bra; there was no padding in it which is probably why his smile tightened ever so slightly as his stare lingered barely a split second longer on my breasts.

  I’d never felt like this before; I’d always been cold. I lived on the mountain—in the snow; being cold was a fact of life. For the first time, my body felt on fire and to say it was more uncomfortable than being cold was the understatement of the century.

  “Well… I… uhh… Yeah, I guess I did strike the boards. I’m so sorry.” I was mumbling unattractively to arguably the most attractive man I’d ever seen. Turning quickly, I bent to pick up the boards, examining them to make sure there wasn’t any damage. I swallowed a curse as Ally’s tight sweater made every movement that was normally fluid, awkward and clumsy—and the low neckline was the worst. Yes, it was feminine. No, it was not functional. Not only did I have to worry about the boards falling down, but I had to worry about my breasts falling out.

  Not that there was much to see.

  “Well, that too.” And then he laughed. God, he had a sexy laugh. But the smile that it came from… I bent down for the last board because my knees were weak, not because I’d planned on retrieving it right in the middle of his sentence. I bit my lip trying to focus my rapidly disintegrating thoughts as I finished righting the fifth and final board up against the side of the car. “But, I meant it was a strike—as in you knocked all of them down. You know, like in bowling.”

  I just turned to stare at him. Which, in retrospect, was an even bigger mistake because I looked right into that bright white—panty-melting—smile. Oh, it burned.