The Winter Games Box Set

by Rebecca Sharp

“That makes two of us,” I mumbled softly to myself.

  A quick glance down the bar told me that, now, of course, Emmett and Nick had their eyes trained on me and the world-renowned snowboarder who wanted my attention - their mouths inconspicuously wide open in shock that I was talking to the Wyatt Olsen. I rapidly returned my focus to the man sitting in front of me before he realized my friends’ embarrassing expressions.

  “Anything good on the menu here?” Wyatt asked.

  “Mmm… the mac and cheese, but only because I’ve never been one for fancy food. Lodge food is the staple of my diet.” Chicken fingers. French fries. Honey mustard. Hot chocolate. I actually rarely got to eat lodge food anymore since I took the job at Breakers; before that, we’d all met religiously for dinner after my afternoon lessons were over.

  He laughed at my response, the sound sending another wave of heat down through my body and out into my lace underwear which were not equipped to handle this type of abuse.

  “Any chance we can get some lodge food up here?”

  Now it was my turn to laugh. “I don’t think so. Maybe for you they would, but you could just go down to the lodge and save yourself the trouble.”

  “I could.” He nodded. “But you wouldn’t be there.”

  Smoldering. His eyes were smoldering at me.

  Me of all people.

  It must’ve been the makeup. And the sweater.

  “Well, that is true…” I agreed softly as I bent down to start unloading clean glasses from the dishwasher had just finished running.

  “So, Miss Ryder, do you work anywhere else on the resort or is my time over the next few weeks going to be split evenly between fancy food and the slopes?” He took a sip of the water that I’d given him, his eyes catching mine over the rim.

  If it hadn’t been before, my blush was clearly evident now—and not the powdered version that Ally had put on me earlier.

  “You can call me Channing,” I began, wondering just how bad an idea it was to give more information about myself. I pulled my lower lip between my teeth for a moment before my brain magically came up with the perfect response.

  “Well, I do teach snowboarding lessons in the afternoon if you feel like you need some instruction or even just a few pointers.” I smile sweetly at him as though I hadn’t just told arguably one of the best snowboarders in the world that he could use my help.

  His stare held mine, his face remained unfazed for a moment before he burst out into laughter. At that point, I couldn’t help myself either and I began laughing, too—the kind of laugh that erupts uncontrollably from your stomach and cleanses all tension from your body.

  “You are something,” he said as his laughter died down. The humor drained from his gaze as it bored into mine, leaving only the foundation of desire that remained. “I think I might have to take you up on that.”

  “Well, you can make reservations down at the front desk or in the ski shop.”

  Too late I realized that my furthering of the joke only put me deeper into hot water.

  “And can I make reservation for a private lesson there as well?” I sucked in a breath, no longer confident in how to answer. “It doesn’t have to be lesson. It could be dinner. Or lunch. Or I’m even willing to accept coffee as a start.”

  He was asking me out on a date. Wyatt Olsen was asking me out on date. Me –Channing Ryder—the sister of his main competitor (or so he thought). The girl who’d knocked over all of his prized possessions. The girl who just barely looked like one at the moment.

  Me.

  On. A. Date.

  Was that some sort of joke? I thought. Some sort of ploy to throw my brother off his game? If it was, Mr. Olsen was going to be in for rude awakening.

  “Sorry—I don’t think it’s a good idea to fraternize with the competition.” And I had a feeling that it was an even worse idea to fraternize with him.

  “Only your brother is my competition, Channing. And you’re the one that mentioned fraternizing—I only suggested coffee.” Then came that smile again and my heart began beating faster than any amount of caffeine could ever accomplish.

  Maybe I should agree to coffee. The man did just save me from having to deal with that scumbag.

  Come on, Channing, the least you could do is not lie to yourself about why you’re going to say yes to coffee.

  “Olsen! Let’s go, bro!”

  Both of our heads turned as the friends he’d come in with must have just finished being entertained by Andrea and were ready to move on with their night.

  “I’m being summoned.” He sighed, standing up from the bar. “So, coffee?”

  I’d hoped this was going to save me from having to decide.

  “You can say no, but I’m a slow learner, so there’s a good chance I’ll be back here tomorrow night with the same question and the following night and the night after that and, well, I think you get where I’m going with this.” His friends yelled to him one more time. “Hold on, Zack!” Holding up a finger, he looked back at me, waiting for my answer.

  So, coffee or be harassed at work? Great.

  “Fine. Coffee.” I agreed begrudgingly, crossing my arms over my chest. My brain was smarting, but my body was already aching to be in a room with him where we weren’t separated by a countertop and expectations of appropriate work behavior.

  “Where and when tomorrow?”

  “I can’t tomorrow.” Why? What did I have planned?

  A break—a break from poor decisions like this one and a chance to collect myself.

  “Sunday.” I offered. “Before my shift here—so, around four. There’s a local coffee shop on the base of the main lifts called ‘Peace, Love, and a Cup of Joe.’”

  He nodded. “What time do you finish tonight?” He asked warily, his eyes narrowing on me.

  “Why?” I responded skeptically. I just agreed to coffee, what more could he want?

  “After what I just saw, I’m not comfortable with you leaving here by yourself. So, I’d like to come back and walk you to your car when you’re finished with your shift.”

  Damn Canadians. Always putting American men to shame.

  Most nights I did walk to my car by myself because there was always security around and I never had a problem, but I had a feeling that that answer wasn’t going to be good enough for Wyatt. Thankfully, tonight of all nights, my friends were here to keep me company.

  “Thank you, Mr. Olsen, but my two friends over there—“ I nodded my head in the direction of Emmett and Nick, purposely not looking at them. “—are here for the evening so they’ll make sure I get to my car safely.” Watching his eyes look behind me, I continued. ”I apologize if they’re still staring, although I’m sure you noticed it by now.”

  He looked back at me and, with a soft laugh, said, “I hadn’t realized, gorgeous; the only thing I’ve noticed is you and that sight has held my eyes captive.”

  Now it was my turn for my mouth to fall open, my heart pounding from his compliment.

  Gorgeous. Me. Captivating.

  “I’ll see you on Sunday, Channing.” And with a sexy, successful smile on his face he turned and went back to his waiting friends while I stood there waiting for my limbs to recrystallize from the puddle of mush he turned them into.

  One time—it was probably about three or so years ago—I’d fallen attempting a McTwist; it was only the first or second time that I’d attempted the trick and I shouldn’t have because the conditions weren’t great. I fell hard on my ass on the landing, actually, come to find out later, breaking part of my tailbone. But that wasn’t the worst part. However I landed pinched a nerve in my back that sent an electrical tingling throughout my lower limbs. It was the strangest thing; I couldn’t feel my legs, but they weren’t numb. It was the sensation that my body wasn’t my own.

  And the way that Wyatt had just made me feel, well, it was like that… but on steroids.

  I use those few seconds to collect myself as much as I could before I had to turn around to face Emme
tt and Nick’s inquiring gazes—otherwise they would’ve found me.

  “What?” I asked as I walked back over to stand in front of them, their faces speechless for a moment.

  “What the fuck do you mean—‘what?’!” Emmett exclaimed, throwing up his hands and glancing at Nick. “You were just… you were just having a full-fledged-fucking conversation with Wyatt fucking Olsen. Don’t tell us what. Tell us what he said.”

  “And why he looked like he knew you,” Nick added. Sometimes, he was oblivious; other times, he was so perceptive that I swore his slightly-stoned distraction was just for show.

  “And why the hell he looked like he wanted to know you, if you know what I mean.” Emmett’s tone hardened and I knew the look that he gave me; it was the one that Chance always did when he saw any guy showing any interest in me. Over-protective brother on the loose. Chance wasn’t here and it didn’t surprise me in the least that Emmett would step into his place—even with all the shit I gave him.

  I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “We were having a conversation because he’d helped me get rid of some unwanted attention from some asshole who was sitting at the bar earlier.” When Emmett’s expression showed his disbelief, I added, “You two were too busy being star-struck by Wyatt and his buddies to notice. Anyway, he was just making sure I was ok.”

  “He looked like he knew you,” Nick insisted.

  “I… ahh… I may have run into him earlier today in the parking lot. Well, technically, I ran into his boards in the parking lot.”

  “What?!” they yelled in unison and I winced, looking around to make sure no one else was on our side of the bar.

  “I was running late! And I pulled in too fast and I didn’t see his boards propped up against his car until it was too late, so I may have tapped them a little…” They continued to stare at me. “Alright, I freaking knocked them all over onto the pavement. Happy now, assholes?” I huffed.

  “Holy fucking shit!” They both burst out laughing and my humiliation for the evening was complete.

  “I can’t believe you knocked over Wyatt Olsen’s boards!”

  I grabbed a piece of ice from the ice box and threw it at them. “I know… I know!”

  “Holy shit, Lil,” Nick said, wiping the tears from his eyes from laughing so hard. “Does he know who you are? That you’re Chance’s sister?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Oh man… Good thing Chance isn’t competing otherwise he’d probably have a legit complaint that you were trying to take out the competition.”

  Shit.

  I gnawed on my lower lip. I hadn’t had time to think about whether or not I should tell the two of them what my plan was. In my mind, their response was either going to be full-on support for the ‘gnarly’ trick I was about to pull or complete disagreement, in which case they would most definitely strap me to my board and lock me in a closet until the Games were over. When Chance had left, they’d been just as unprepared as I was, but over the past few months his absence had led to an increased protectiveness which is probably why my gut was telling me to hold off.

  No, I was going to have to really feel them out and seriously weigh the pros and cons of bringing them into the fold.

  I just nodded. “You guys want another one?” In trying to deflect the conversation, alcohol was my best (legal) option.

  “Did he ask for your number?” Emmett continued to probe, ignoring the free alcohol that I’d offered.

  “No.” At least that I could answer honestly.

  “What was he asked you about? He looked interested.”

  “Seriously, Emmett!” I groaned, exasperated. “He asked about the food here. He asked what was good. And then he asked if I worked anywhere else on the resort. And then he asked for the name of a good coffee shop. Is there anything else you want to know, Inspector Asshole?”

  True. True. True. Mostly true.

  Arms over my chest, I glared at him, daring him to question me further. At that point, Nick threw up his hands in resignation. “Well, I’ll take another beer if you’re offering.”

  I didn’t move, holding Emmett’s gaze for another second before he picked up his glass and held it out to me—a gesture signaling that he was satisfied with my answers and ready to move on with the night.

  I took three monstrous breaths as I walked around the bar to top up their beers.

  “ALLY!” I YELLED, RUNNING UP the stairs towards my sister’s room.

  If she wasn’t ready to leave, I swore I was going to leave without her. It was almost quarter to seven and I told the guys I’d meet them by the lift on the hour, not to mention she had to be to work at seven to open; Ally worked at Peace, Love, and a Cup of Joe—the coffee shop I regrettably told Wyatt I would meet him at tomorrow afternoon.

  Unless there was a change in our schedules, she and I rode over to the resort together in the morning; it was the best time to ride—before the afternoon rush. Since I worked late at Breakers, Chance was usually the one to bring her home when she finished in the evening. When he left, I think Emmett brought her home a few times before she started getting rides from her friends or coworkers most days.

  Had there ever been a time when those two hadn’t been at each other’s throats?

  Some days, if my afternoon lessons ended early or, like yesterday, when I didn’t end up having a full schedule, I would bring her home before I had to head back for my night shift.

  I banged on the door one, two,—

  “I’m ready!” She’d flung the door open wide, standing there in her skinny jeans, Ugg boots, and a different brightly-colored sweater. Her hair was in a loose French braid, small tendrils framing her face that was expertly done with what I was certain was a fair amount of makeup even though it looked very natural. “Sheesh!”

  She brushed past me, walking down the stairs.

  Somedays, I wished I could be just a little bit more feminine like Ally. I wished I could let my short, blonde androgynous haircut grow out to even shoulder length instead of where it was. But long hair—no, even short hair—was a pain to deal with underneath a helmet and against my neck. I couldn’t have anything itching or distracting me from my ride.

  As for the rest of it all, it wouldn’t be difficult to look more feminine; the problem was what happened once I got to that point—evidenced by my interactions with Mr. Olsen. I only knew how to interact with guys as, well, one of the guys. Not to mention the fact that Chance would have had my head if he’d ever seen me flirt with a guy—especially another snowboarder.

  To him, all snowboarders were the same as he, Emmett, and Nick; they were all just looking for the next best trick… or so to speak.

  I laughed to myself as I turned and followed my sassy sister down the stairs. Who was I kidding?

  I had no idea how to flirt with a guy.

  “I guess they didn’t give you a problem when you went to register?” Ally asked softly as we climbed into the Jeep.

  “Not really.” She just nodded and turned her head to stare out the window.

  Sometimes, she seemed to lose herself in her thoughts—sad thoughts. I didn’t know if it had to do with Chance or being so far from our parents or maybe missing all the friends that she’d left behind, but I also didn’t know how to ask. Every time I tried to talk to her about her life before she moved back here with us, she closed off and changed the subject.

  We’d lived apart for almost five years. She’d grown up with girlfriends; I’d grown up with the boys. I didn’t know how to relate to her or get her to open up and I felt like a failure as a sister for it. The only thing that I’d learned that worked to pull her from her melancholy was to distract her, pure and simple.

  “I’m putting your sweater in the wash, FYI. I ended up wearing it to work last night, so it definitely needs to be cleaned.”

  Her fingers strummed against the screen of her phone. “Why? Did someone spill beer on it?! Ugh, that one was one of my favorites, Chan.”

  “No. Thankfully. Although, E
mmett came close by the end of the night.” Her head spun towards me, all trace of her previous thoughts gone.

  “Emmett was there? Why am I not surprised?” She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

  Out of all of our friends, she disliked Emmett the most and it only seemed to worsen with time. I couldn’t find a reason for it, besides the obvious, but then again, I’d had over a decade to get used to his abrasive and crude, bordering on careless, personality.

  “Yeah. And Nick. I forgot to tell them I couldn’t ride yesterday, so they came to check on me. And probably for some free beer.”

  “Probably,” she muttered and I could tell that I was starting to lose her again.

  “The next time I ask to borrow your clothes, don’t let me. I can’t handle the kind of attention that they bring.” I laughed a little—if she only knew.

  “Oh yeah?” Her interest was piqued. “Were you actually recognized as a girl? The horror!” She laughed a little at her own joke and even though it was at my expense, the laugh was worth it.

  “Worse,” I grumbled.

  Now, she turned in her seat to face me. “What does that mean? Did you meet a guy?”

  I said nothing, turning into the Snowmass resort. Was this how it worked with girls? Was this what they meant by ‘girl talk?’

  “Oh my God! Chan, did you get asked out?” Astonishment filled her voice as she stared me down, waiting for an answer.

  “Why do you say it as though I never get asked out?” I was slightly offended. I was also trying to avoid answering.

  “Because you never do. Or if you do, you don’t go.” She continued to stare as I turned the car left, heading towards the Two Creeks lift where the quaint chalet-esque building containing the coffee shop sat conveniently waiting for riders to break from their morning runs for a hot cup of Joe. “Did you?” She put up her hand to stop my answer that hadn’t been coming. “No, I already know that you did, so forget that. Is he hot?”

  I bit my lip, suppressing the tortured laugh at just how freaking hot Wyatt Olsen was; ‘yes’ would not have been a sufficient answer to that question.

  “You’re blushing—so that’s a yes.” No makeup this morning to hide my reactions. “Who is he? What did you say?”