The Winter Games Box Set

by Rebecca Sharp

  I raised my eyes to his smiling ones. “I’m so sorry. I was saying something to my sister and I didn’t see you.”

  “You know, I have to believe that either you are one of the clumsiest people I’ve ever met or you’re just looking for ways to bump into me.” I scowled. “But,” he continued, “judging from the moves I saw you pull down the park, it’s hard for me to believe that you could ever be clumsy.”

  “You should see her in heels!” Ally yelled from behind the bar. Any guilt I had for making her ride home with Emmett completely evaporated.

  That devastating smile broke out on his face, accompanied by a small laugh, while his gaze remained focused on me.

  “I was hoping it was the second option anyway,” he said a little bit softer so that no one else would hear.

  I felt both Ally and Emmett’s gaze on me. At least only Wyatt could see my blush and hopefully, he thought it was just because it was cold outside.

  “I’m Channing’s sister, Ally! What’s your name?” I groaned. Why was she continuing to yell? I swore my cheeks were going to burst into flames. Thankfully, he looked over to her and gave me a moment of respite.

  Before the situation could get any more awkward, I stepped to the side, a subtle hint that he should move past me and let the people behind him enter into the coffee shop. And wouldn’t you know it, the very next person to walk in behind Wyatt was Nick-fucking-Frost. I scowled at my friend.

  “Did you bring him here?” I muttered to Nick as Wyatt walked over to order at the counter; his eyes kept returning to me even as he briefly conversed with my sister, making sure that I wasn’t going anywhere.

  He tried to look at me innocently but I knew better. “What, Lil? He asked if I knew where this place was, so I told him I would show him.”

  “And did you also tell him that it was me on the park earlier?” My scowl darkened even further.

  He gave me that calm smile—the one that said everything was just for his entertainment. “He said he was going to give me some tips” I should’ve known. “You should have seen him nail the triple, even Pride’s doesn’t look that smooth.”

  My gaze dropped to the floor at the mention of my brother—and at the mention of the feat that I had yet to accomplish.

  “I hear that you’ve been practicing your triple cork.” Wyatt’s voice returned to our conversation and I wished I could shoot laser beams from my eyes at a certain SnowmassHole.

  Oh, God. Hopefully he didn’t mention anything about Chance.

  “Did you?” I sent him a too sweet smile at which point, Nick excused himself with a fake sheepish look to go order some coffee. He’d better hope that Wyatt held up his word to give him some pointers, because the only thing he was going to learn from me was how to get his ass kicked.

  “That’s pretty impressive. I don’t think a female has done that in competition yet.” The admiration in his eyes was genuine.

  “Well, the only competition that I’m in is with my brother—and if he can do it, then I know I can, too.”

  Wyatt laughed as he took a sip of his coffee and the way he licked his lips afterward, well, I quickly gulped down some of my own drink in order to swallow my groan.

  “A healthy sibling rivalry, I see.” He nodded to someone who walked in behind me. “Thankfully, my brother, Zack,” he paused and nodded to the third guy walking into the place behind Nick, “ended up on the wrong side of the fence—he ended up being a skier—so, we can still be civil to each other.”

  So that’s who the lone skier had been.

  I followed his glance to see another equally (not really that equally) handsome man approaching the counter; he hadn’t paid a single bit of attention to us, but he was, however, completely focused on Ally behind the bar. I also noticed that Emmett’s protective growl was now trained on Ally instead of me; I chalked it up to the big brother instinct of his.

  “Alright, well I gotta run. I have a lesson starting in a few minutes—so, unless you want to come heel/toe it with about ten five-year-olds…” I waved ‘bye’ to my sister and my two friends—none of whom were paying any attention to me. Great.

  “I’ll walk you over there.” It wasn’t a question and before I could protest, he reached around and opened the door for me, waiting for me to walk through.

  “You don’t have to,” I muttered as I tore into the wrapping that was covering my panini.

  “I want to.”

  How could I argue with that? Especially when I wanted him to, too.

  “You’re an excellent rider and your friends really admire you.” Our boots crunched in the powder as we walked toward the lesson area.

  “You’ve barely seen me ride; you can’t know how good I am.” I was pretty excellent. When I didn’t choke, that is.

  “When you take your first step onto the snow, you know exactly what the riding conditions are going to be like—whether the snow is too moist and there’s going to be drag on your board or if the powder is perfect and it will be smooth sailing. It’s the same when I look at a rider—when I look at you. I only need those first tracks to know.” He sighed and I knew he was staring at me, but I refused to look over; his compliments were too unnerving.

  “You should really stop complimenting me,” I blurted out, unprepared for the verbalization of my thoughts.

  “Would you rather I kiss you instead?” His smooth-as-molasses voice mingled with the tantalizing lilt of his accent snuck up on me and ripped the breath right out of my lungs.

  So shocked as I was by his question I tripped over my own boots. Stumbling, I began to slip in the snow that had turned to slush from all of the foot traffic.

  Wyatt grabbed my arms and hauled me against his chest to stop my embarrassingly sudden lack of coordination and imminent fall.

  The oxygen in my lungs and my brain was gone, replaced only with him—hard, hot, and everything male.

  “Still can’t decide if you are clumsy or if you just like running into me,” he whispered softly, his breath brushing against my cheek as I lost myself in his eyes. “I think I’d rather kiss you now, Channing.”

  My mouth parted.

  Just like earlier, standing on top of the slope, I eyed the kicker that was in front of me—only this one had a name: Wyatt Olsen. Only this one, I had a feeling, was going to send me faster and higher into the air than any jump I’d ever taken. The same adrenaline pumped through my veins; not fear, not uncertainty, but pure, potent need to take the risk of crashing and burning because the reward would have me soaring.

  My hands curled into his jacket and instead of responding with words that were sure to be an awkward, incoherent mess, I pushed up on my toes and flew towards the jump, my body tensing and preparing for flight as I planted my lips firmly on his.

  I’d shocked him with my brazen response, but only for that split second. Then, his lips slanted over mine and I was weightless and airborne in his arms. His tongue pressed against my lips—lips that opened willingly for him.

  Damn, he tasted like strong, masculine coffee—a brew that, I can assure you, is much more addicting than any caffeine that Cup of Joe had been selling.

  “I’m not clumsy,” I muttered, our breaths mingling in the millimeters of space between our lips.

  I dropped back onto my feet, releasing him and stepping back. “I’ll see you around,” I stammered awkwardly, turning and walking towards the little group of munchkins and their tiny, tiny snowboards.

  “Tomorrow, Channing. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I turned, my eyes unlocking the promise in his as I nodded.

  Crap. Tomorrow. All of this I would be reliving again tomorrow.

  God, I couldn’t remember the last time I kissed a guy; hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time I wanted to kiss a guy. I’d been too focused, too determined over the past few years trying to keep pace with my brother. Chance had been getting much better, much faster than I had and, well, we’d always been in this together and I didn’t want to get left behind. So, I’d thrown everyt
hing I had into training because I wanted—no, I needed to win.

  Ally had asked what would happen if I won?

  I was beginning to fear that the real question now was: would winning taste as good as Wyatt?

  “Finally!” Ally’s footsteps came racing around the corner from the living room into the front hallway of our house.

  I froze in my tracks, tossing my keys in the basket on entryway table.“What? What’s going on?” I tugged off my beanie, watching in a fog as Ally approached me. “Are you ok?”

  I was completely drained from the day—first, with the ride I had this morning. Then Wyatt… and more Wyatt. Then the adorable but exhaustingly rambunctious kids in my lesson, and finally, my shift at Breakers.

  I thanked the Mountain gods that they had two other bartenders on staff tonight in addition to me; even though I made less, I probably would’ve been asleep on the bar by now without the extra reinforcements.

  All I could think on my drive was how much I just wanted to get home, take a hot shower, crawl into bed, fall asleep, and dream of Wyatt.

  And then get up and do it all again tomorrow.

  “What! Of course, I’m okay. I’ve been twiddling my thumbs, waiting for you to get home so that you can tell me about one Wyatt Olsen.” She crossed her arms over her chest and smirked at me.

  “Ugh,” I groaned, dropping my head back; I was too tired to talk about the man. “It’s past midnight, Ally. I have to go to bed. Some of us have to work tomorrow,” I grumbled and walked around her, heading for the stairs.

  “Don’t care,” she said sweetly as she followed me into the bathroom, deciding to continue with her interrogation as I stripped down for my shower. “So, I don’t really think I need to ask this, but is Wyatt the guy that you have a date with? Because holy hotness—you were totally right about him being able to steam milk. Heck, I’d let him froth my milk—“

  “Ally!” I yanked back the shower curtain and glared at her for her dirty thoughts.

  Only I was allowed to have dirty thoughts about Wyatt Olsen. And that thought right there was a big problem.

  “Well, maybe if you would just tell me what I want to know, I wouldn’t be forced to talk so much.”

  “Yes.” I succumbed to her demands as I shampooed my hair. “I have a date with him tomorrow. At the coffee shop. If you say anything to Emmett or Nick though, I will pour beer on all of your sweaters.”

  “Why would I say anything to either of them? Especially Emmett. Which, by the way, I’m still really mad that you asked him to bring me home. You know what happened after you and Prince Charming left? Your Mr. Milk-frother’s even more delicious younger brother decided to hang out and chat with me for a little bit after the lunch rush slowed down.”

  Mr. Milk-frother. I was never going to live that down.

  I murmured to acknowledge that I was still listening to her while I massaged conditioner into my scalp.

  “He even offered to take me home when I was done. But, because you asked Emmett, I wasn’t allowed to go home with sexy, Zack Olsen. Oh, no—according to King Emmett, I was only allowed to be escorted home by him.”

  I hoped that the noise from the shower hid my laugh at my sister’s overly dramatic tale of her disagreement with Emmett.

  “Sorry, Ally. I’ll let Emmett know—”

  “No! Don’t say anything to him. I refused to speak to him the entire way home and I refuse to waste any more time on him right now.”

  I turned off the water, reaching out for my towel, and pulled the shower curtain open.

  “So.” Uh oh. I didn’t like the look on her face. “Have you kissed him?”

  Son of a biscuit. Was the fact written on my forehead or something?

  “YOU DID!” And then she started jumping up and down and I swore to myself that I was going to make her get a second job because she had way too much energy for almost twelve-thirty at night. “HOW WAS IT?!”

  I groaned. “If you stop yelling and jumping, I’ll tell you that it was really, really good.”

  Even though she bit her lip, it did nothing to stop the squeal that escaped.

  “It was really… incredible.” I winced at how lame my details of the event were. However, I just didn’t know of any word adequate enough to describe everything that he made me feel.

  “This is so exciting!” She clapped her hands, following me down to the other end of the hall and into my room. “And you’re going to see him again tomorrow. Jeez, from what I’ve witnessed of your love life, chances are you’re going to be married by the end of the week!”

  “Rude.” I dug into my drawer of brightly colored underwear, pulling out a royal purple thong with a little bow detail on the front. “And I don’t know if I’m going to see him after tomorrow—I don’t know if I should see him after tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean? Why not?” Her face fell.

  “Because he’s in the competition, Ally. Not only that—he’s the one who will win unless I beat him; he was Chance’s biggest competition.” I shook my head, sitting on the side of my bed. “If he finds out… if he realizes… that it’s me underneath that helmet, it will ruin everything. I can’t let him get close enough to realize.”

  “But…” She came and sat down next to me. “You really like him; it’s written all over your face—and, I’m sorry, but even my makeup skills can’t hide it.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m too tired to think or decide anything right now. I’ll see what happens tomorrow.”

  I climbed underneath the covers, hoping that would signal to her that I was going to bed and she should too. But she made no move to leave.

  “Channing, I moved only a few months ago, but I have not seen you go on one date with a guy. I haven’t even heard you mention a guy besides our brother and his friends. I understand that they’re your friends, too, and I understand that you and I have different personalities, different interests, but you can’t sit there and tell me it’s only because of snowboarding that you haven’t had time to even have a crush on someone. I know better than to believe that excuse because I’ve seen Chance and Emmett and Nick go out for the express purpose to meet girls, whether it’s just to hang out at the bar or hook up with them; they’ve made time to still live their lives. Why haven’t you?”

  I stared at her, the emptiness inside of me echoed with the truth of her words.

  “You don’t have to answer me, but you should at least answer that question for yourself. I’ve seen you excited about a lot of things—from winning the Open to landing a ‘kicker,’ to seeing Chance get his invite to the X games, but I’ve never seen you like this. You compared the man to a freaking milk-frother for crying out loud.” She sighed and stood and then looked down on me as a mischievous smile grew on her face. “All I’m saying is that I think you could use a good frothing.”

  “Oh dear Lord,” I turned and groaned into my pillow as Ally walked out of my room, chuckling to herself as she closed the door behind her.

  Freaking milk-frother.

  But right now, I didn’t care. A smile crept onto my face as I closed my eyes and easily drifted off into my sweet, frothy dreams.

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU have to go?” Zack threw up his hands. “We were just killing it, bro.”

  “Bro, I told you, I’m meeting Channing for coffee.” I pulled off my helmet and began to unstrap from my bindings.

  “Yeah… Not your usual type there, big brother.” He stabbed his poles into the snow next to him and crossed his arms over his chest, looking at me and expecting me to justify myself.

  It was true; not on purpose, but I normally had a thing for curvy, feminine brunettes who were not riders—no pun intended.

  Channing Ryder was the complete opposite of that.

  When I’d heard the crash of my boards the other day, I walked around Zack’s rental car, prepared to lay into whoever damaged my shit, until I saw her—her hand pulling at her short, boy-cut blond hair before she frantically jumped down fro
m her Jeep and began to pick up the mess she’d made of my most valuable possessions. My body’s reaction had taken me completely by surprise; instantly hard, instantly aroused, and instantly uncomfortable in the clothes that I was wearing.

  She wasn’t curvy in the slightest. Everything about her was tight and compact—the thought making my cock throb against my jeans. And she was just bordering on feminine. Even though her makeup was done and she was wearing a preppy, feminine sweater, it clearly wasn’t her norm with the way she pulled at the tight fabric, annoyed as it restricted her movements and the way that she inadvertently rubbed one of her eyes, not realizing that it slightly smeared whatever was on it.

  I had to stop and stare for a minute; I had no other choice, since words eluded me.

  But when I finally said something and she spun to look at me, well, I’d broken body parts that had a far less devastating effect.

  The first thing I couldn’t help but be drawn to was her brilliant blue eyes. They were the most incredible sapphire I’d ever seen—like the sky on a clear day from a mountaintop ten-thousand feet above sea level—the kind of brilliance that also takes your breath away.

  Her sweater clung tightly to her lithe, petite form, the slight swells of her small breasts peeking out from its edge. As my gaze dropped over them, I could see the faint outline of her nipples hardening underneath my stare, the knowledge making my balls tighten painfully. Hell, in different clothes, without makeup, she probably could have passed for a boy and yet, my hands twitched with the need to feel her flesh; my body begging to be inside of her as I imaged her body wrapped around me.

  I’d crossed my legs, thankful that she seemed intently focused on righting my boards, so that she couldn’t see that I was a breath away from tossing them all back on the ground, pressing her up against my brother’s car, and kissing her pink, full lips.

  No, she wasn’t my usual type—and I’d never wanted anyone more.

  That alone should have told me that I should have been better prepared for my next realization. From the second she touched my boards, I knew immediately that she was a snowboarder. She picked up my gear like she’d done it one-hundred-thousand times before…