The Winter Games Box Set

by Rebecca Sharp

  “Wonderful. Just wonderful.” He clapped his hands in glee. Yup, definitely a Russian Santa. “Like I was saying in my office, and as you can now see, we do a lot of cutting-edge rehabilitation, mostly for athletes—whether it’s football players or runners. Most of our work and the work that you will be doing,” My pulse jumped—did that mean I was getting the job?—“is with winter sports athletes, especially this year with the X Games and the Snowboarding Open both finishing nearby.”

  Not too near though.

  Another reason I’d put all my eggs in this basket: It was about twenty minutes from Hope Creek and Snowmass. While I loved working at Open Hearts with Tammy, it made me realize that I couldn’t work on the resort or in town, especially after the one and only run-in I’d had with my ex-boyfriend, Chance Ryder, since I’d last seen him eight years ago—the day I’d betrayed him and broken his heart. Or so he believed.

  I thought eight years would be enough time for me to forget about the connection we’d had and for him to move on from what I’d done. But I was wrong on both counts.

  So, I applied for a job outside of the vicinity where I might bump into him. I needed a little more space to forget the memories and the feelings they stirred.

  With a jovial smile, Dr. Lev turned to me and offered, “Alright, well that settles it, Ms. Madison. I think you’d be perfect for the job, if you’re up to it. I’d love if you could start immediately.”

  Excitement.

  Relief.

  Promise.

  For the first time in some time, I felt warm and bright with hope for the future instead of the heaviness of my past.

  “I… Yes! That would be amazing,” I said calmly even though it felt like I was screaming with excitement on the inside. This was my dream job. Nice boss. Perfect facility. And work spent helping people get back on their feet—sometimes, literally. “I’d be more than happy to,” I accepted with a smile.

  “Wonderful. Let’s get the rest of the paperwork filled out and then I’ll work with our other clinic director to see which cases we can start you with bright and early tomorrow morning.

  To move back to Aspen only to want some distance from it? It was ironic though, I thought as I followed him around. Why even come back at all, Jessa?

  I belonged here in spite of the pain. No pain, no gain, right?

  Even though I was still avoiding them, my snowboard still zipped up in its bag, the mountains were calling. That’s why I came back. I had to. I thought it would be a lot easier but everywhere I looked, there were reminders of my past. Everywhere I looked there were reminders of the reason that I left. Everywhere I looked there were reminders of him—the walking, talking, breathing, missing piece of my heart.

  Everywhere except here.

  Jessa Lynn Madison.

  She’d wreaked havoc on my body and my heart eight years ago and I’d barely survived. But knowing she was back was different than seeing it. Seeing her at my house the other week with my sister planted a seed, one that was rooted in revenge. And now that she was here, I took it as the universe giving me a sign that it was my turn to return the favor and wreak some havoc of my own.

  I wanted her gone.

  And I certainly had nothing else to lose.

  I watched that wave of pink hair walk through the training room with Dr. Lev. Grinning, I relaxed my shoulder against the wall in the hallway. Life had been good to me for the most part. Except when it wasn’t. In those instances, it fucked me over. It fucked me over so big I couldn’t even enjoy the times it was good to me. But, it looked like fate was giving me the chance to rectify both situations in one fell swoop.

  A few weeks ago, one of my best friends and current roommate, Nick Frost, had taken me into Denver to have some minor surgery on my knee—an attempt to further fix the damage from when I fell and broke it six months ago; the injury damaged my body but it had outright destroyed my ability to snowboard professionally ever again. The other part of the surgery deal was five weeks of physical therapy. Here.

  I’d put off calling and scheduling my first session for a few weeks later than I should have—all because of the pink-haired goddess who was speaking enthusiastically to the good doctor as they walked through the gym. She’d returned to Aspen and with her the reminder of what happens every time I think life is allowing me to get back on my feet: another hit that would knock me down and out. Seeing her made me rethink the point of trying to fix my knee; seeing her reminded me that gaining something only meant I had one more thing to lose.

  “Fuck,” the word slipped from my lips at barely a whisper.

  I knew she was back. I was trying to forget it, too. I was trying to forget the times that I’d been forced to see her over the past few weeks because of my sister. I was trying to forget everything that I’d found out about her—where she lived now, what she was doing, who she was with—because it made me fucking nauseous to think about how I couldn’t stop myself from needing to know everything about her, about how I couldn’t stop myself from needing her.

  She wasn’t hard to miss with that damn hair of hers. She hadn’t changed. Well, except the bright color of her hair. Her body was paved with toned muscles and curved in all the right places. My hand itched at my side because it knew those curves like a backroad; nowadays, one I could only drive when my eyes were closed and my dreams were behind the wheel.

  I sucked in a breath, watching that drop-dead gorgeous smile of hers explode over her face. Whatever Dr. Lev had just told her was something really good—something she really wanted. That was the only time that smile came out—the one that caused her eyes to scrunch and her dimples to take over. I fucking loved those dimples. And I’d fucking loved when I was the reason for them.

  I tore my eyes away, cursing under my breath. Pink hair, that body, those dimples… Truth was, her looks could kill and if I wasn’t careful, I’d find myself with a serious death wish.

  I tried to tell myself I didn’t care. I didn’t care that she’d come back. I didn’t care that she’d resumed her life… her friendships… everything except her relationship with me. But I did care… I cared to crush her. Maybe if I hadn’t fallen, hadn’t tanked my entire career… maybe I wouldn’t feel this way. Maybe I would have something else to focus on besides the fact that she was back within my reach. But there are a million ‘what-ifs’ in life.

  What if she had loved me?

  What if she hadn’t left?

  What if she hadn’t betrayed me?

  All a waste of my fucking time.

  I was here. I had to be here. And it looked like I was going to get my revenge on the only two things that I’d ever loved and the only two things that had ruined me: the mountain and Jessa Lynn Madison.

  J-bird.

  I waited until they left before walking into the gym to meet my trainer. “Monroe?” The blonde girl turned to face me.

  “Chance Ryder,” she said in awe before her face broke out into a smile. “Oh my gosh, I’m such a huge fan of yours. Totally unprofessional right now, but I had to tell you. I’m Monroe, your physical therapist.”

  Already knew your name, sweetheart. At least she wasn’t too bad on the eyes.

  “Thanks,” I replied tightly waiting for her to remember that she actually had a job to do; I was on a tight schedule.

  “Right—ok,” she said as she stepped in way too close to be professional with a hooded gaze that told me she was about to offer me something I really wasn’t interested in. “I’m so excited to be working with you.” Christ. “I just want you to know that even outside of our sessions, if there is anything that I can do to help you…”

  A week or so ago, I would have skipped the Physical Therapy for some Personal Time with the petite blonde but not today. The strands of revenge weaving together inside my mind were creating something much sweeter than a quick fuck. Although, I wouldn’t completely rule out that possibility.

  I cleared my throat. “I was told we were going to start with aquatherapy.” I didn’t even
bother to look at her when I said it. Unfortunately, it only made her desire for me roll off her faster.

  “Of course. Right this way,” she said with a breathy, desperate voice that made her sound pathetic.

  I followed her, my eyes glued to where we were headed—the glass door that I’d been watching Jessa’s perfect ass when she stared through it a few minutes ago.

  It took nothing away from my goals to admit that even after eight years she was still hotter than any woman I’d ever seen, fucked, or wanted to fuck.

  The definition of J-bird.

  God. If I could find some way to fuck Jessa again through all of this… Well, that would make this whole process even more satisfying.

  “Who was that?” I demanded, nodding in the direction where Dr. Lev and Jessa had walked off.

  Christ. If this girl batted her eyelashes any fucking faster she was going to take flight. That’s ok. I could put her attraction to good use.

  I watched as Monroe’s face scrunched into an expression that resembled a ferret before she replied, “Oh, Dr. Lev? He’s the director of the center. He usually isn’t down here.”

  Clever but no, sweetheart. “Who was the girl with him?”

  My thumbs hooked into the waist of my sweats waiting for her to answer; I’d strip once she told me what I wanted to know. Now, pick up your damn drool off of the floor and tell me. Annoyance etched deeper into her features as she replied tightly, “No idea.” But because she wanted to please me, she volunteered more information. “Probably someone he is looking to hire. A little unprofessional with the bright pink hair.”

  ‘A little unbelievably irresistible,’ I wanted to say but instead bit my tongue. I needed more information from the twat.

  “So, can I request the same PT every week?” I wondered as I slid my sweats down. “Or will it be a different one each time?”

  Five… four… three… two…

  “Y-you can definitely request me,” she stammered as her eyes finally left my groin.

  And welcome back from the dick-daze.

  Her eyes still were bulging at the outline of my cock in the tight-ass swimsuit they’d insisted I had to wear. Not like I was fucking training for the Olympic swim team or some shit like that. No, the fucking speedo was still strongly recommended.

  I turned towards the pool, attempting to hide my smile. I wasn’t going to request her. I wasn’t going to tell her that nor was I going to tell her that what had my dick at attention had nothing to do with the way she’d been throwing herself at me.

  A half an hour working in the water and I was almost as wet as my therapist’s underwear. Almost. Then it was back into the gym to work on my muscle strength and flexibility. Seeing how weak my knee was pissed me off further with every rep of every stupid fucking exercise.

  It hurt. It burned so goddamn bad. But I took it all—all the pain I stored up as anger against her.

  Even after the surgeries, even though everything was “fixed,” I still couldn’t snowboard. Just like even though Jessa was here, I still couldn’t have her.

  So. Fucking. Irritating.

  But I could have this chick. I mean, her mouth had been hanging open for the past forty-five minutes, it was rude of me not to put my dick inside of it.

  “Ok, Chance. I think we are done for today,” she informed me with her arms crossed underneath her chest, shoving her tits up high and onto display.

  I stood up from the machine and asked, “Are we?”

  One glance down to where she was already looking was all it took. Two minutes later, we were in the unisex bathroom and I was testing the strength and flexibility of the back of her throat. Maybe a little too roughly, but only because I kept looking down at her head and expecting to see pink.

  With a groan, I filled Blondie up with my release. At least one fucking part of my body was still in good working condition. Meanwhile, the rest of me struggled with exercises that would have been a piece of cake five months ago.

  Disentangling myself from Monroe, I gave her a ‘job-well-done’ smile as I made my way back to the locker room to change.

  Fuck.

  Texts from Channing and Ally, my twin and my younger sister, lit up my phone.

  Yeah, I’d kill for them—and die for them—but as much as I cared about them, I hated how much they cared about me right now. Fucked up, I know. But their concern reminded me of my fucking misery and trust me, I didn’t need any reminders. Every day, I drove past the mountain that was no longer part of my life. Every day, I watched Frost leave the house to go boarding while I went to work or got stoned.

  It was one reason why I decided to move in with Nick Frost. The other big one? The fucker was the only person I knew that was colder, more depraved, and more miserable than I was—and misery loves company.

  Now, it was time to pay the good doctor a visit. I smirked and knocked on Dr. Lev’s door.

  “Yes? Come in,” the deep merry boomed from the other side.

  He set down his pen and pulled his glasses from his nose when I opened the door and walked in and introduced myself “Dr. Lev. Chance Ryder.”

  “Yes, yes, Mr. Ryder. I know who you are. I’m so glad to finally see you in here. I was expecting you several weeks ago.” He stood and bent forward to extend his hand over his desk to greet me.

  My smile tightened with restraint as I firmly gripped his outstretched hand and returned the shake.

  “How can I help you?” he asked as he sat down and motioned for me to take a seat, hooking his glasses back on his face.

  I made a point to stay standing. This wasn’t going to take long.

  “Is Jessa Madison going to be working here?” I asked bluntly. I’d waited eight years for this; I didn’t have time to play games. Not with him.

  He pulled the tiny frames down the bridge of his nose to stare at me. “I… Well…” he stuttered for a moment at my bluntness. “Yes, I… She will be joining our staff here.”

  “Wonderful.” I broke out the golden-boy smile for this one. “I’d like to request her as my therapist for the remainder of my program.”

  Unlike wine or whiskey, revenge doesn’t age well. And if I couldn’t get it on the mountain, I would get it with her.

  She was going to regret ever coming back here.

  If at all possible, he looked even more flustered before quickly recovering to advise me. “Well, now… This is highly irregular. We specifically select a therapist based on the injury and their unique approach to recovery. Not to mention, moving a patient from our senior therapist to a new addition…” He trailed off, understanding that I would get his implication. Too bad I didn’t care. He had about another five seconds before my patience was up.

  “Were you not happy with Monroe?”

  I was happy with her throat.

  “She was fine,” I opted for instead. “And while I appreciate the approach, Dr. Lev. I think that patient preference comes first and I would prefer to work with Ms. Madison since we are old friends. I feel that my time here will be more… successful… with her helping me.”

  My voice caught on an edge—one that grew sharper with each word.

  He eyed me up for a second. But I knew who I was—and so did he. I was the hometown hero who was injured; I was going to be big news if his clinic was the one responsible for putting me back on the mountain. A pipe dream at this point.

  “Alright, Mr. Ryder,” he begrudgingly agreed. “She is starting tomorrow, so I will put you in her schedule for the afternoon.”

  “Great.” The smirk finally slipped out. “Thank you for your consideration.”

  I turned and let myself out.

  I was Chance-fucking-Ryder. I was the Pride before the fall. And I always got what I wanted.

  And what I wanted was Jessa Madison screaming my name with tears streaming down that beautiful face of hers.

  First, when I fucked her. Then, when I broke her.

  I’m coming for you, J-bird.

  The Fool: Given the number zero, th
is card shows the Fool at the beginning of his journey with unlimited potential. It shows the highest potential for your life—a state of renewal and new beginnings. The Fool is about to step off the cliff—to take a leap of faith—into the world, but is she prepared?

  The Fool may represent a choice to be made—one of critical importance. The Fool says to follow your heart, no matter how crazy your impulses may seem.

  Nine years ago

  “WHY DON’T YOU WANT TO be my girl, J-bird?” He growled against my neck, chasing another shiver down my spine.

  I did. I really did. “Because I know what happens to your ‘girls’, Chance.” My pulse raced like a freaking freight train as his finger traced along the edge of my jaw.

  This—right here, right now—had been happening for weeks. Stolen moments between classes, during lunch, or before heading up the mountain. This was something that I’d tried to avoid and I’d almost made it to senior year. Almost.

  Chance Ryder was the poster-child of effortless popularity. He was an Abercrombie model, Axe body spray, and a pair of white Jordans all rolled into one. Keep in mind, he didn’t actually wear any of those things. And that was exactly why none of them were popular in our high school. If you wanted to be liked… if you wanted to have friends… heck, if you wanted to have a life, you ran it through Chance first.

  Feared, followed, and fawned over for his incredible face and indifferent attitude, everyone sought to please him.

  Everyone but me.

  I tried to stay under the radar by living in my own little world, but Chance Ryder, he was a different breed. He wasn’t thrown off by my currently blue hair or my Zen-loving ways. I wasn’t faking any of it, but I was flaunting it. And it didn’t faze him.

  “Fuck them.” When his lips touched me it was like water being thrown in a pan full of hot oil—smoke, sparks, and a potential fire hazard. “You are nothing like them.”