The Winter Games Box Set

by Rebecca Sharp

  Fuck. “Yeah?” I turned back to the wood core I’d been working on.

  “It was bad enough they got Channing. Thankfully, she can handle her own—growing up with us, she better be able to. But Ally,“ his fist flexed at his side, “the thought of him touching her… when he kissed her the other night at the house… let’s just say murder has never crossed my mind so frequently.”

  I was vibrating I was so tense. What about the thought of me touching her? Kissing her? Because I have. I’ve kissed all the parts of her to claim her as mine—and still I don’t.

  Would that push you over the edge, Pride? Because I think it should.

  It’s ok. I should be dead by now anyway.

  At my silence, he moved back on topic. “Anyway, I guess I should probably do something besides hanging out at Nick’s all day smoking, drinking, and fucking like I’m back in fucking high school.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of options. Didn’t your sponsors contact you for other shit?”

  “Yeah, which they somewhat rescinded after Channing’s little stunt. Too much liability. Whatever. I didn’t want to be a fucking poster boy anyway.” He wiped his hand on the side of his pants. “Alright, I’m gonna go. I’ve got an afternoon fuck date with the two girls who come to clean Nick’s house every week.”

  He smirked and walked back up the steps, adding, “No rush on the board!”

  “Yeah.” He probably didn’t even hear my response.

  12. I hate the way he excels at everything—confidently taking just what he wants; I hate that I was the only thing he wanted that he wasn’t taking.

  THE EARLIEST DAY I’D BEEN able to rearrange my schedule for was Friday. Tammy, as promised, enlisted me in the beginner classes on Friday and Saturday afternoons, giving me Sunday off.

  Channing left on Monday. Chance was like a ghost. Emmett stayed away from me like he’d said he was going to.

  I hated how I was starting to get used to being alone.

  Sure, the girls were there for me. Our group text was going strong every day, but since it was the middle of the season and the resort—and the town—was swarming with tourists, our work schedules were shit when it came to being able to all get together. The only time we had engraved in stone was the thirteenth—for my birthday. Switching that shift, as well as all the others so that I could take lessons with Emmett, had cost me my first-born to Hannah so that she would take them.

  It’s worth it, said my heart.

  We’ll see.

  Internal dialogues were pretty typical nowadays. Too many emotions, all wanting a voice.

  My steps slowed as I approached the ski school building, first looking for Emmett, and then scanning for Tammy. I looked down at my white snow pants and snow jacket. Chance and Channing had bought them for me a week or two after I moved even though it had been in the middle of summer; they’d been so excited to share their love of the mountain with me. And then… life happened.

  I looked good in the white. Clean, crisp. I looked like I didn’t belong. Too clean because it had never been in the snow. Too crisp because they’d never been worn.

  I turned the corner towards the entrance to the school; Tammy must be inside, she said she was working on schedules today.

  I ran right into a wall of black. The arms that came around me as my non-snow shoes slipped on the snow were painfully familiar.

  I tipped my head up to his. More black.

  He immediately stepped back from me, making sure I was steady before his hands dropped like I was diseased.

  “What are you doing here?” Emmett’s growl was low and feral.

  The door opened and Tammy’s smiling face appeared.

  “Hey!” She came out, moving between Emmett and I, and hugged me. Then she turned to Emmett, keeping the same smile and composure. “Emmett, Ally is going to be taking your beginner classes for the next few weeks. Isn’t that great?” His scowl darkened. “Channing is going to be so surprised when she gets back.”

  Surprised that I’d learned to snowboard or surprised that Emmett and I hadn’t killed each other in the process? I guess we were going to find out.

  There was a pregnant moment of silence before Tammy continued. “Alright, why don’t you get her boots and a board and I’ll grab her a helmet. I think your other students are already gathering over by the lift.”

  She was going to leave me alone with him? When he looked like that?

  “Absolutely.” His smile was hard and false as he turned, motioning for me to go ahead of him to the equipment room that was the next door down.

  “Good luck,” Tammy whispered as I walked by.

  As soon as I was in front of him, his hands gripped my arms, stopping me in my tracks. “Wha—Oomph!” I stumbled forward. “What the hell!” I spun to face his satisfied grin. “Why did you just push me?”

  He’d stopped me only to place both hands on my back and give me a shove—not enough to knock me over, but still.

  “Had to see which way you ride. Looks like you ride regular, just like Chance.” His name was like a weight over the both of us.

  “How can you tell?” I asked, still slightly annoyed that I’d had to be pushed to find this out.

  He held the door to the rental room open. “Whichever foot you step forward with first is the one that belongs towards the front of the board. You stepped with your left. So, left in front, right in back—you ride regular.”

  “Oh.” I jumped as the door slammed shut behind us.

  “I thought you hated the snow and the cold,” he grumbled.

  “No,” I replied tartly, “I told you that I hated neither of those things.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You said you just hated me,” he sneered

  Crap. I had said that to him when he was being a jerk to Zack and me.

  “I don’t hate you,” I said, staring at his face like I could will him to look at me. “I hate what you do to me.”

  “And what’s that?”

  I swallowed, speaking the first thing that came to my mind. “You keep me on the edge of having everything that I want.”

  I saw his entire body tense as he froze at my truth.

  And then he ignored me, grumbling, “I don’t believe that you couldn’t find any other class.”

  My mouth opened and closed a few times. “No.” I sat on the bench while he looked at the shelves of boots. “I don’t think there are any other beginner classes. At least not that work with my work schedule.”

  “What size shoe?” he asked, standing by the boot rack.

  “Six and a half.”

  He pulled a pair of black boots down off the wall. “Why are you doing this, Ally?” He set them on the ground next to me.

  Kicking off my shoes, I looked up at him. “Why is it a problem?”

  “You know why.” His eyes pierced through me as I tried to pull the boots on.

  What the hell? Were these the right size?

  “Oomph!” Finally, my foot slipped into the boot, seating comfortably inside.

  “Your ankles need to be the most supported part of your body. So, the boots have to be especially stiff down the neck so that you don’t injure them.”

  “I see.” I untangled the laces and attempted to tie up the front.

  “Yeah, well, even all the right gear can’t protect you from the worst falls.” He bent down in front of me and pulled the strings from my hand. “Let me.”

  He was so close.

  He smelled like the mountain—overwhelming spice mixed with majestic beauty.

  “You need these to be as tight as those little arms of yours can make them.” His arms jerked out, yanking the laces with them. I could feel the snug neck of the boot tightening even more around my ankle. “What I would suggest is pulling one tight at a time, securing the lace, then pulling the other.”

  He tied the laces together and then handed me the other boot, watching and waiting for me to follow his instructions.

  “Emmett, about the other n
ight…” Thud. My foot landed inside the second boot.

  “Nothing happened,” he insisted coolly.

  Why. I began with one string, yanking it tight before hooking it around the clasp. Did he. Yank and hook. Make this. Yank and hook. So difficult. Holding it tightly, I pulled the lace back and sat on it so that I could tighten the other one.

  “Nothing except the fact that you slept in bed with me,” I replied, trying to speak as calmly as possible.

  Just stare at the string, Ally.

  “I told you; you were upset. I didn’t feel comfortable leaving you.” He walked calmly over to the rack of boards as I stood up, boots finally secure. He pulled one off the shelf and came back over to me.

  “You didn’t look comfortable either…” I grumbled.

  “Excuse me?” He raised an eyebrow, daring me.

  “Just saying…” I grabbed the board from him and held it up to my chin. Perfect fit. I picked it up, grimacing as it whacked the bench behind me. Crap. Stupid thing. “Then again,” I glanced down at the board underneath my arm and then back up to him, “you are used to walking around with uncomfortable and awkwardly large wooden things, so…” I shrugged and gave him a sweet smile before walking out of the room.

  Overall, my comeback had been a success—aside from the minor stumble because these boots were so freaking hard to walk in and the fact that I hit the snowboard on the doorframe on the way out. My triumph was only diminished by the laughter that followed me out the door.

  Again, I had won the battle, but the war still raged and today, Emmett had the giant mountain that loomed in front of me on his side.

  Fucking hell, I loved her sass.

  Uncomfortable was right. I adjusted my snowpants that were no longer loose like they should be to alleviate some of the discomfort on my dick. Christ. Good thing I had a jacket to zip up over it because the layers of clothing were doing shit to hide my reaction to her.

  ‘Awkwardly large.’

  God, she had no fucking idea. I wanted to give her a fucking idea. I wanted to give her all of my ideas of fucking her. She had no goddamn clue.

  I’d had the brief notion that at least she’d be wearing snow gear and not whatever skimpy-ass shit—that was probably more conservative than most—she normally wore. I was fucking wrong. Again. Even in the damn snowsuit she was hot as hell. My best friend’s sister.

  “Alright, everyone.” I scanned the class, trying not to linger on her. Two girls—maybe fifteen, two boys around ten or so, and Ally. “My name’s Emmett and I’ll be your instructor today.”

  The way the two girls giggled at me was one of the many reasons I remembered why I didn’t do this anymore.

  Once I had everyone strapped in, we pushed over to the lift. Of course, the two younger girls and the two even younger boys paired up, leaving Ally and me to ride together.

  “You’re with me,” I said gruffly, pulling her back so that I could make sure the other two groups made it safely on.

  Fuck.

  Sitting onto the chairlift dug into the ‘uncomfortable and awkwardly large’ piece of wood in my pants. Thankfully, she was too concerned with pulling the bar down to notice.

  “I have to warn you. Skis… snowboards… and I do not get along. I think I still have bruises from when Zack and Tammy tried to teach me how to ski the other week.”

  “That’s because skiing sucks. And because you weren’t learning from me.”

  Case-and-point: she didn’t fall when we got off the lift. I couldn’t say as much for my other students.

  Because these were the basics, I began the lesson with how to skate slowly down the trail because it was also how you stopped and how you made it down areas that were too steep for comfort. After a brief demonstration, I had them pair up again because unfortunately for me, that was the easiest way. I worked with each pair individually for a few minutes until they got the hang of the exercise, told them to slide halfway down the slope with one person on their toe-edge, the other on their heel, and then switch places.

  I should have known Ally wouldn’t wait for me.

  She’d been watching and had decided to attempt it on her own. By the time I spotted her, she was on her heel edge, arms out, and slowly moving down the bunny trail. And down she went. Thankfully, she was going slow enough that landing on her ass was only a minor discomfort.

  My girl got right back up, dusting the snow from her still fucking delicious ass and began moving again.

  “You should have waited for me.” I carved right in front of her causing her to lose balance and immediately grab onto the front of my jacket.

  Had I done that on purpose?

  “I’m fine.” So stubborn.

  “How many times have you fallen?” I slid backward, allowing her to follow on her heel edge.

  “I figured it was best not to count.” She rocked again, but her fingers gripped and pulled on my jacket to avoid another spill.

  “Bend your knees a little more. The closer you are to the ground, the lower your center of gravity, and the more stable you will be.” She silently did as I instructed her, crouching down and strengthening her stance.

  It didn’t help that this board wasn’t made for her body, the wax on the bottom probably shit from half a season of inept riders gouging into it down the slope. It made me angry; it made me want to build her her own board so that it wasn’t working against her.

  “This is definitely not like skiing.” She began to slide more smoothly in front of me. “Plus, with all that ‘french fry’ and ‘pizza’ talk, not only was I hurting that entire afternoon, but I was so hungry.”

  That sass.

  “Well, we try to keep the food references to a minimum.” Figured I wouldn’t mention the ‘Roast Beef Air’ or the ‘Spaghetti Air’—tricks that were part of the snowboarding language of Shred.

  “Oh, I know. Instead,” she wobbled, but stayed upright, “you guys use the most random words that make absolutely no sense. At least the food reference was somewhat understandable.”

  “No sense? Give me an example.” Mostly I just wanted to hear her say exactly what she was talking about.

  “Of what?”

  “A word that doesn’t make sense.” Her hands relaxed their grip as she tried to move a few inches without the support.

  “I don’t know.” Her focus stayed on the ground sliding underneath her. “You’re the one who has won the X Games, you should know what I’m talking about. Terms that are so random.”

  I had to laugh again. “Like Flying Squirrel Air?” She laughed and didn’t waver—a good sign. “Boned Out?” More laughter. “Nose Poke Air?”

  Now, she fell back onto her ass laughing. So was I. “I don’t get,” she tried to catch her breath, “how you guys can say those things in all seriousness. When I see Channing say those things with a straight face… I just can’t.”

  We laughed for another minute and this was probably the first time our conversation hadn’t been a battle for who was going to lose to their desire first.

  “Come on, Giggles,” I reached a hand out, “the others are almost at the bottom.”

  I pulled her up once more, waiting until she was steady again, and we eased our way down the slope. As soon as she wavered, her hands were on me. In those moments, I found myself not wanting her to get any better at this.

  “Do you miss Florida?” I asked when we were back on the lift.

  “Yes and no.” It was starting to flurry. “Somedays. But mostly just my family and friends.”

  “I have to say, I never expected to see you in snow clothes. You seem like the type of person who belongs,” I cleared my throat, “in the clothes you were wearing the first night I met you.” She raised an eyebrow, knowing what a problem I’d given her for them.

  “Do I look ridiculous?” she asked with a sudden, self-conscious sadness.

  Hell fucking no. “No. The complete opposite. You look like you belong.”

  She sighed heavily. “I don’t feel like it.”r />
  “And yet you are here.” She dropped her head onto her arms that were propped on the bar across the chairlift.

  “Here. On the mountain. On the edge.” She was thinking of something else as she spoke. I wanted to know what.

  “Edge of what?”

  She sat back up and smiled, her reflection cut short. “Flying. Falling. Never mind.” No, not fucking ‘never mind.’ “So, what do you do when you aren’t covering for my sister?”

  I watched her in silence, debating whether or not to push her for more answers, but I didn’t want to push her away. I could enjoy her presence for one fucking afternoon without killing myself with guilt and fighting with myself over it. I needed the respite; Ruth had called again earlier. It wasn’t good.

  “I build custom snowboards for professional riders.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I think Chan mentioned that hers and Chance’s were ones that you had made.” I nodded. “Do you sell them anywhere or how do you do it?”

  “No. They are made-to-order. I take clients by word of mouth. Even at that rate, I haven’t had to do any advertising since I started. My waitlist is over a year out and it has been that way since a few months after I started.” And at several thousand dollars a pop, with most riders requesting at least two or more boards as back-ups, my income had skyrocketed right along with my sales. “When you compete at the professional level, having the cut and camber and all the other minutia tuned exactly to your body—shaped for your body, feet, weight—is an immeasurable benefit. If you try to perform with any of those things even the slightest bit off, it can cost you everything.”

  “At that level, I believe it,” she said as I lifted the bar up and we prepared to get off. “I, on the other hand, am far too terrible for even a custom board to save me.” She joked and pushed off the lift. This time, she didn’t make it down the ramp without falling.

  “Crap.” I pulled her up again and we made our way over to the group.

  “Alright, kids,” I watched them strap in, “same thing. This time, try not to have to rely on your partner so much. And you two—“ I looked at the boys who were rolling their eyes like they expected me to take them down the park after one run, “no screwing around. Being able to stop and get down the mountain safely is the most important thing.”