The Winter Games Box Set

by Rebecca Sharp

  It took me a second to process the nickname that she called Chance and his friends. Catchy.

  She said nervously, “You are welcome to talk to him and convince him otherwise; I’m sure he’ll listen to you.”

  “No!” I exclaimed, shaking my head. “Pizza is totally fine. Sorry. Blonde moment. Trying to process the whole ‘SnowmassHoles.’”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I thought you heard it before.” She rolled her eyes. “You don’t remember that from high school?” she asked, answering herself before I could. “I guess maybe not. That’s probably for the best. It involves breaking into the ski resort at night and holding competitions—some of them involving naked snowboarding…”

  My eyes widened as her gaze met mine.

  “Yeah… don’t ask,” she said with a laugh.

  “And that is Chance and Nick and… Emmett? I’m sorry, I don’t remember them,” I admitted. Then again, my siblings and their friends had hardly been off the mountain long enough that my memory wasn’t totally to blame.

  We turned into the driveway, the familiar mountain chalet coming into my view as we drove up the road. The house had a log cabin vibe, but was much too large to be considered anything close to a cabin. Windows wrapped around the entire building giving unobstructed views of the surrounding peaks that were just barely snow-capped at this time of the year.

  “Don’t apologize,” Chan replied, pulling past her Jeep in the drive and into the garage. “It makes sense that you wouldn’t. Nick was a year behind Chance and me in school, so you might recognize him when you see him later—blonder, scruffy hair. Kind of might remind you of a surfer.” God, I hoped that he didn’t. “Emmett I think came to the house once or twice, but he is a few years older than Chance and I, so you definitely wouldn’t have seen him in school. I promise, when you meet him… you won’t be able to easily forget.”

  “Why?”

  We got out of the car, grabbing as much as we could from the backseat. “Well, let me just warn you right now—yes, he is like that to everyone and no, do not feel obligated to be nice to him; I’m pretty sure he hates it,” she said with a rueful grin.

  Asshole. Got it.

  We carried the bags inside the house that smelled overwhelmingly of warm pine; the reddish light of the setting sun filtered into the open living room and kitchen. For a place that I hadn’t lived in for almost five years, it felt surprisingly like coming home.

  “Chance is out with Nick getting stuff for tonight but they should be back soon and I know Tammy was going to head over as soon as she got home and showered from work. Emmett works on his own schedule so who knows when he’ll show,” Chan offered, taking the stairs with my two duffels, one under each arm, as I followed, pulling my hard suitcase behind me.

  My room looked the same as I’d left it—warm yellows, frilly bedspread, and old family photos on the wall. I guess I was the only thing that had changed; I was no longer the hopeful, fairy-tale-believing little girl who used to live here.

  Channing turned and before I saw it coming, her arms were around me in a giant hug.

  “Welcome home, sis,” she said. I held her tight so she wouldn’t see the tear that slipped down my cheek. She whispered with a small laugh, “Don’t worry, I promise I won’t let you freeze here.”

  I forced out what was passable as a laugh; I was really going to have to get better at this. “Thanks, Chan.”

  I wanted to freeze though. I wanted to be so frozen that I couldn’t feel.

  “Oh my gosh, Ally! You look great!” Tammy exclaimed, enveloping me in just as big a hug as my siblings had.

  I wasn’t sure ‘great’ was the right adjective, but maybe showering and looking cute went a lot further out here than it did on the East Coast; it was a pretty nice night out so I put on a different pair of cut-off shorts and a crop top with no bra. I guess I wasn’t quite ready to let go of my beachy style. I tousled my blonde waves a bit and threw on the barest hint of eyeliner, eyeshadow, and mascara—all of which was really nothing like how I used to get dolled up back in Florida… before Dylan. Then again, compared to my sister who had on no makeup and was wearing a baggy t-shirt and ripped jeans—and still looked beautiful—I guess I was more dressed than most.

  Tammy looked just as I remembered her—warm brown hair pulled back in a braid, caring green eyes, and tall—like model height. She had this unassuming beauty about her as though she didn’t want it to be seen. Or maybe it was that she didn’t even see it herself. I envied her. How I looked was always the first thing anyone noticed about me.

  Blonde. Boobs. Bombshell.

  Music was playing and the sliding back doors were open out onto our back deck where the fire-pit was crackling with the fire that Chance and Nick had whipped up. I took another deep breath of the smoky-sweet scent of the burning wood.

  “So, Chan tells me that you teach skiing?” I asked, taking another sip of the Summer Shandy that Chance had run back out to the store to get me; I’d made the mistake of telling him it was my favorite. He’d given me an eye, wondering how I had a favorite at just under twenty-one, to which I’d batted my eyelashes sweetly and smiled.

  Seeing my brother earlier had been the high-point of my day. He’d run up to me, picked me up, and spun me around like I was a little girl again; it was the first time I’d truly laughed in a while even though I still felt the hurt bubbling underneath.

  He’d asked me all the same questions that Channing had—if pizza was ok, if I wanted something special to drink, if it was ok that we had people over. I reassured him that everything was really fine. But it was that lie that made me nervous and prompted the Summer Shandy slip. So Chance insisted on going back out to get some since it was my ‘Welcome Home’ party; there was no stopping him—the leader of the SnowmassHoles.

  “Yeah,” Tammy replied and her face lit with a smile.

  I’d always liked Tammy. She just had the most genuine, nicest heart and somehow, hanging around my brother and his friends hadn’t deterred her from consistently thinking the best of everyone.

  “But that’s not where I was today.” She paused, setting down her water to straighten the pillows on the couch behind me. “Sorry, it’s been bothering me.”

  “Stop cleaning, Tammy!” Chan yelled from the kitchen with a laugh as she tried to open up the veggie tray. That’s when I remembered that Tam was also a clean freak—like if Mr. Clean had been born a girl, she would have grown up to be Tammy Lucas.

  Ignoring my sister, she continued, “I also work at a daycare, Open Hearts, fulltime in the summer and then part-time in the winter so that I can work at the resort.”

  Duh, Ally. No snow on the mountain now.

  “That’s so awesome. That’s right!” I exclaimed, moments of my previous life coming back to me. “I remember how parents used to fight to have you babysit their kids on Friday nights in high school, so I’m not surprised in the least.” She’d always been so great with kids. “Wait, didn’t you actually have to create a waiting list because you had so many requests?”

  Her cheeks turned bright red and I almost felt sorry that I asked.

  “Only senior year,” she replied sheepishly.

  We continued to catch up for a few minutes before a holler from Chance invited (read: demanded) us to move our conversation outside by the fire.

  Just as I went to follow Tammy through the door, Chance yelled again, “Lil! Come out here, I need your help!”

  Chance called her ‘Lil’ because technically, she was the younger twin; Lily was also her middle name. I think he just liked to remind her of who he thought was in charge.

  “I’ll be out as soon as the pizza gets here,” Channing shouted back at him. “Unless you plan on chasing the delivery guy down the driveway when no one answers the door!”

  They were really something, my siblings; even after only a few hours in their combined presence, in what was their own space, they were hysterical with their back and forth banter.

  “Chan, why don’t you g
o out and see what he wants?” I said and walked back into the kitchen, taking the cash from the counter and setting my empty beer bottle in its place. “I can wait for the pizza guy.”

  “You don’t have to do that. Your brother can survive on his own for two minutes!” The last part she yelled loud enough to make sure Chance could hear.

  “Lil! I swear to God…” He roared back. I just smiled as my sister huffed and rolled her eyes, giving me an apologetic look before she mouthed ‘thank you,’ grumbled something to herself about ‘burning the house down,’ and walked outside.

  Not even a minute later, there was a knock on the door. Pizza time.

  I sauntered over to the front hall, holding the bills in one hand as I reached for the doorknob with the other. Coincidentally, my stomach growled at the imminent prospect of deliciously hot—

  Delivery Guy.

  I froze in the doorway—and for a second he did, too. Forget chirping, you could hear a cricket’s heartbeat in the silence between us. I always had something to say except right now, I couldn’t say anything because I felt something.

  And I hadn’t felt anything but soul-numbing sadness for so long.

  What was this?

  What was happening?

  Tall, lean muscles flexed in the shadows, movements that even the darkness of the night couldn’t hide. We stood outside and still, the surroundings felt too small for the two of us. He filled the space. Whatever that space was. It was all him.

  Gulping, I took in the harsh, square lines of his jaw that were strong enough to break my breath. His lips were full and unwavering and just like puddles on the ground was proof of the rain, I didn’t need any more evidence that this man had tasted many women—many different parts of many different women; the corners of that expert mouth began to rise ever so slowly with the confidence of a connoisseur that I knew could drink me dry.

  And that I’d beg for more.

  My gaze finally lifted from his masterful mouth to stare into eyes that burned like embers—their red-flecked centers slowly inspecting me up and down, searing me without a touch. The hottest, darkest flame. Looking at me. Heating me. Branding me.

  I couldn’t look away.

  It had been a mistake not to wear a bra. Thankfully, I’d kept on my underwear.

  And thankfully, it was only the delivery guy. How the hell does a Viking-model end up a pizza man?

  “Who are you?” he demanded with a voice that felt like the finest sandpaper, rubbing over me with a deliciously soft pain that would leave me smooth if I could get away fast enough or would rub me raw if I wasn’t careful.

  God, it was like he’d painted goosebumps all over my skin, right down to my clit… My legs squeezed together to try to stop the rush of moisture between them.

  Focus. It’s just the beer. Now, pay for the pizza and shut the door.

  I pulled my mouth shut and tried to recover my bearings. Why was he asking who I was in the first place? What kind of pizza guy asks that question? And what kind of pizza guy is older than high school?

  The creepy, panty-soaking hot kind.

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I retorted, “The person who ordered the pizza. What’s it to you?”

  I didn’t know why I was angry at him—why I was being testy. Things were happening in my body that I couldn’t explain. I felt like a blind person who was finally able to see, and the bright lights and colors of feelings that had been locked in darkness for so long threw me into sensory overload.

  His eyes flared, raking over me possessively like a man who just found something that he’d lost; like a wad of cash left in the back pocket of a rarely-worn pair of jeans, he wondered how I got here and looked at me like he was just imagining all the possibilities of what he could do with me.

  Normally, I was abhorred by ogling. Not tonight. Not by him.

  Run.

  Instincts. My past. Everything told me to get away from the intensity of feeling sparked by him. I definitely needed to run from this man. He definitely looked like he wasn’t going to give me a head start.

  I gulped, noticing that even though it was warm out, he was still wearing a beanie over his head. His t-shirt that should have been loose was pulled tight against his chest, outlining every rise and fall of every muscle that pulsed underneath.

  I began to shift as I stood, uncomfortable in my own skin that crawled to be closer to him. This guy was dangerous, the way my attitude entertained him and my discomfort made him smile.

  I reached for the pizza boxes, but he pulled them back slightly, saying “I can help with that, if you want.”

  “Excuse me?” I said too breathlessly. Dammit. Why couldn’t he just say something normal, give me my pizza, and leave? “Help with what? I can carry the pizza just fine.”

  “I’m sure you can, sweet. I was talking about helping to unbunch your panties and getting you to relax a little,” he replied with a devilish smirk that had me imagining just what all was classified under the term ‘unbunching;’ the thought only making the effect more pronounced.

  My gasp was excessive to the point of sounding fake as I reached out and tried to snatch our pizza from him, half-tempted to not even give him the money in my hand. He held onto them and pulled me even closer because I stubbornly refused to let go.

  “My… panties… are just fine. Thank you,” I said defiantly, meeting his hot black eyes with my cold blue ones. Who actually says something like that? What pizza guy is THAT cocky?

  And why—for the love of God—was my body responding to this asshole?

  All this heat between us had to be from the pizzas.

  It. Had. To. Be.

  “Liar.” The soft rasp of his voice was even sexier the closer he came and the skew on his lips even more sinful.

  The square inch where his fingers brushed mine I swore could have set the boxes on fire. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want fire. I wanted the numbing cold.

  “Have a good night.” I tossed the cash as his chest, hoping that it was enough because I didn’t even ask—nor did I really care—as I shut the door in his momentarily stunned face.

  Safe.

  The fire was out but my body still burned.

  I practically ran through the kitchen and out the back door, announcing “Pizza is here” with just a tad too much breathlessness. Everyone stopped and stared.

  Did I say ‘pizza is here’ or ‘pizza guy is hot?’

  My heart stuttered for a moment before Chance uttered, “Fucking finally,” and grabbed the top box. “Thanks, Al.”

  The girls more carefully opened the second box and I took a seat on the opposite side of the fire, facing towards the house.

  “Where the hell is Emmett?” Nick asked.

  In my daze, I forgot that we were still missing someone. Oh well, I thought, blowing on the hot slice of pizza in my hand staring blankly through the fire at the house, half expecting Mr. Perverted-Pizzaman to be there.

  “Right the fuck here, dickhead.”

  And then, he was.

  2. I hate how in an attempt to win a battle, it was I who started our war.

  Seven months ago

  OH NO. NO. NO. NO. No.

  I chanted the word religiously in my head as though God would come down and smite this asshole from my sight.

  But no. I watched in horror as he remained un-smited and stood there like he owned the place—and me—the way that he stared.

  I hadn’t expected this.

  Nope.

  Not in a million lifetimes.

  Somehow, in the fifty steps between the front door around to the back patio, he’d become impossibly hotter. Channing may have warned me about his attitude, but she completely forgot to mention how painfully gorgeous he was.

  “King… I mean, Emmett, this is my little sister, Ally.” Chance nodded in my direction and I wished I could dissolve into the fire. “Ally, this is Emmett Jameson. Also known as ‘King.’”

  Earlier, I’d learned that my brother and his friends all s
till referred to each other by their high school nicknames that I couldn’t remember ever even knowing about. Chance they called ‘Pride,’ Nick Frost they called ‘Frost,’ and Emmett was ‘King.’

  What I wouldn’t give to see him kneel, I thought angrily as I refused to back down from the amused stare that found my eyes. He thought this was hysterical what he’d done—pretending to be the pizza guy and making me all hot and bothered. I wanted to throw my pizza at his smirk. Instead, I smiled sweetly and pretended like I’d never seen the likes of that dangerously, drop-dead-gorgeous face before.

  Now that I could see the full picture, I realized just how unbelievable his entire body was. Like Ty and my brother and Nick, this guy was built like one of those firemen that they put on calendars; I would have said like a football player if that f-word didn’t bother me so much. Broad shoulders, narrow waist… and then, he tugged off his beanie.

  Emmett ‘King’ Jameson was sexy—so sinfully so that it blazed out through the finely buzzed red hair on his head, the fire turning it into a flaming halo. In the warm, changing light, his eyes burned like the wood in front of me, and Channing’s promise from earlier returned… How could anyone forget meeting the king? He should have left the hat on; I didn’t need any more warning signs to tell me to stay away from this asshole of epic proportions.

  “Little Miss Sunshine finally returns home,” he sneered and my pulse quickened at the sound of his voice. I’d done absolutely nothing to this man—except slam the door in his face for being impertinent—and he spoke to me like my presence had wronged him.

  I didn’t like him. More than that, I definitely didn’t like how my body did like him; I was betrayed by my own flesh.

  “King…” Chance’s stern voice cautioned him. Emmett’s eyes never left mine even as his smile grew at my brother’s warning.

  “What took you so long?” Nick asked.

  Even though there was a box of pizza situated next to where Chance was standing and where Nick sat, Emmett still chose to walk around the stone fire pit to where the girls’ box of pizza was: right next to me.