by Nikki Steele
I took a deep breath, hands trembling, then stepped away from the food. That old familiar urge was sweeping over me, but I could fight it. Eating until I felt sick wouldn’t do me any good—when I was finished eating, my feelings would still be the same. I walked out onto the balcony, determined to stop thinking about boys, stop thinking about ski bunnies, and stop thinking about food.
Chapter 4
The following day, Erica came limping back from her morning training session.
“Didn’t you get my calls?” she asked in exasperation as I helped her to the sofa. I frowned; my phone had been on me at all times, and I told her so.
“Oh, terrific. There’s probably no signal in this stupid cabin.”
“What happened?” I asked, ignoring the complaint. I didn’t think the cabin was stupid at all.
“I pulled my right quad,” she grimaced. “It’s super tight. I can’t risk this; competition starts in two days, for god’s sake.”
“You’ll be just fine,” I assured her. “You know you’ve been pushing too hard lately; even the trainers at home told you so.”
She grumbled as she folded her arms behind her head. “I called you to see if you could come rub it down for me.”
I frowned, but kept my voice light. “Don’t they have people there who can do that for you? People who’ve actually studied and know how to treat things like this?”
Erica turned to look up at me. “But you’re better at it,” she whined.
“Rubbing your gross, sweaty feet is not my job, Erica,” I said flatly.
She rolled her eyes. “Your job is to do whatever it takes to make me win.” Then she pulled a face, suddenly vulnerable. “You do want me to win, don’t you?”
I sighed. “Fine. But just this once.” I started kneading the muscles along the back of Erica’s thigh. Why was Erica always like this? She actually expected that I would have come running when I got her phone call. Even though the trainers and therapists knew much better than I did how to do this. And it was their job.
It wasn’t entirely Erica’s fault that she expected everyone in her life to drop things for her. That was the way it had always gone, from the time she was very young.
“How did training go this morning, aside from the pull?” I asked. I found a knot in the muscle and felt her tense up. “Relax,” I murmured.
“Before this, it was fine,” she said. “I was outpacing everybody else.”
“Mmm-hmm,” I said, knowingly. “I thought so. You’re pushing too hard.”
She sighed heavily. “That’s how I win, Lib. That’s my job.”
“It’s not your job to hurt yourself. Next time it might be worse than a pull, Eri. It could be much worse. I would never want to see you hurt yourself just because you were fixated on outpacing everybody else at the gym.”
She was silent for a long time. Then she spoke, and when she did her voice was small. “Have you seen some of the other competitors? They’re bigger than me, stronger than me. Faster than me. Some of them have been skiing since they learned how to walk, for god’s sake.”
“I’m sure,” I said quietly. “But I’ve seen you out there. You’re gifted. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Gifted isn’t enough,” she said, lip trembling. “Everybody here is gifted. I don’t think I’m going to make it, sis.”
My hands paused on her leg. I’d never heard Erica open up like this. She almost sounded... vulnerable. How much actually went on in her head that she never shared with anyone else?
I resumed rubbing her thigh. “You’re going to be just fine,” I said soothingly. “I believe in you.”
I continued to massage the strained muscle, making soothing sounds at Erica. She eventually relaxed, and began to tell me about her morning.
My own morning had involved a long walk around the village. Where we were staying was like something out of a painting, each vantage point a more breathtaking view than the last. But I hadn’t taken any of the sights in—I’d spent the entire time looking for my mystery man.
I hadn’t found him. But what if I had? I wouldn’t be here massaging Erica’s leg, that was for sure. I imagined that he was the sort of person who liked simple pleasures; after all, the chocolate croissants at the grocery store bakery were his favorite things in the world. Maybe we’d be out walking, or just sitting with a coffee, enjoying a view. I knew he would take as much pleasure in this place as I did.
In my daydream, I could see myself telling him about the spectacular view from the deck behind the cabin where we were staying. He’d tell me he’d like to check it out for himself, and we’d walk back together. I’d lead him to the deck and watch the smile that would spread over his face, and then I’d smile too. I sighed—even in a fantasy I wasn’t sure what was more beautiful, the view of the peaks around us, or him.
“Hello? Are you still there?”
I blinked rapidly, shaking the daydream from my thoughts. My hands were lying completely still against Erica’s leg. “Did you fall asleep or something?”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, and got back to work.
She grumbled to herself and closed her eyes. “Anyway, like I was saying, I don’t have a choice but to train as hard as I can. It’s all or nothing now. This is what everything’s been leading up to. All the skiing and training and working over the years has been for this. I can’t slack off.”
I blinked several times, forcing my attention on the conversation. “You can train without burning yourself out, though,” I said. “Once you reach burnout, that’s it. There has to be a middle ground.”
She scoffed. “How would you know? You’ve never done an athletic thing in your life.”
My eyes narrowed. So much for the brief connection we’d shared.
“You don’t know what it’s like to feel this sort of pressure.” She continued. “Having Mom and Dad’s hopes pinned on you, feeling like you can’t lose or else you’ll be letting them down. I mean, nobody has ever expected anything from you.”
I pulled my hands back and sat with them in my lap. “Erica, that’s not fair.”
“I know, right?” she said, misinterpreting my tone. “Seriously, what I wouldn’t give to be born with your body—nobody would ever expect me to do anything then.”
My mouth dropped open.
“Instead,” she continued, “I have to do everything, and you get to laze around all day eating croissants—don’t think I didn’t see it there in the fridge.” She sprang up from the couch. “Thanks for the massage, sis!” she said blithely, testing her leg. Then she walked to the stairs. “You’re really good at that. Let’s do it again tomorrow!”
Chapter 5
I was so angry with Erica I didn’t know what to do with myself. She had showered, eaten the food I’d taken all morning to prepare, and then left for afternoon training as though nothing had ever happened. Her words had hurt me, and the most frustrating thing about it all was she didn’t even know it.
The last straw came when, just as I’d finished cooking her dinner, I received a text saying that she’d be home late, and not to wait up. She’d been invited to a cocktail reception, but could I get things ready for training tomorrow?
I scraped her dinner into the bin, folded my apron and left it on the counter, and then marched up to my room. If anybody deserved a drink right now, it was me. I was not going to stay behind and play Cinderella while she went off and had a good time.
I put on a long, flowing tunic sweater in a shade of purple that brought out my eyes, and paired it with gray leggings and boots. I freshened up my makeup and did a quick job on my hair with a curling iron, leaving it wavy and full.
I remembered Erica once asking why I bothered to make myself look nice. As if I would have been better off walking around in a sack cloth. With that in mind I added a little red lipstick just for the heck of it.
15 minutes later I was at O’Hoolihan’s Pub. It was busy; surprising, since it was early in the evening. There were no empty tabl
es and only two free stools at the bar when I walked in. I took one for myself, then ordered a bourbon. It was at the end of the bar furthest from the door, and it gave me a good view of the people going in and out.
I sat back, sipping, and looked around. O’Hoolihan’s was a cozy place, full of the sort of atmosphere you’d hope a mountainside pub would have; lots of warm wood and a blazing fire in the large hearth along the far wall. The people were all absolutely beautiful, too. I guessed it made sense —you didn’t come to a place like this and not do physical activity all day. That is, unless you were me. There was so much glowing skin here it might hurt my eyes, and I swear every second bunny that walked through the door had breast implants and a rib removed. I was glad to be sitting in the corner.
Suddenly, movement caught my eye. I felt my heartbeat quicken. I couldn’t believe it.
He looked just as delicious as he had the day before at the grocery store, no longer in grocery store chic, but instead in a cream colored turtleneck and soft wool scarf. I could almost see the brilliant green of his eyes from all the way across the bar. He took off his coat, chatting with a couple who had gotten his attention, and I watched as his muscles flexed beneath the tight sweater. My breath caught in my throat.
Without the hat covering his head, I could see the deep shade of chocolate in his hair. It was thick, and slightly wavy. I imagined running my fingers through it.
As if he’d heard my thoughts, his eyes drifted over the people in the bar, and then suddenly settled on me. I felt my own eyes widen in surprise; a deer trapped in headlights. But then he smiled, just as he had when we first met. He excused himself from the people he was talking to, and made his way toward me.
“Hey!” he said, “You’re here! I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
I blushed furiously, averting my eyes. Why had he even considered the possibility of seeing me again? He must be talking to someone else...
But no, the stool to my left was still empty. Timidly, I looked up at him. “Hi.”
His smile was brilliant. “I’m Jax,” he said. Then he held out his hand.
A thrill spiked across my skin—he actually wanted to talk to me! In the grocery store, I’d wished I was the sort of person that could have asked for his number. I didn’t think I’d ever be that brave, but with a bourbon under my belt, I could tell him my name. “I’m Libby,” I replied, taking his hand. His grip was strong and firm.
“Are you here with friends, Libby?” Jax asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t actually have any friends up here. It’s just me and my sister. I told you she’s a skier, right?”
“Sure you did. But you never told me much about you.” He looked around the room, probably for the person he’d come here to meet. When he saw what he was after, he turned back to me. “Be right back,” he said. Then he smiled, and walked away.
I sat back in my chair and drained my glass. What did I expect? That he’d want to spend the evening with me? A guy that good looking must surely have a date.
Briefly, I considered skipping the next bourbon in favor of several packets of pork rinds. I shuddered at how easy it would be to slip back into old habits, and decided to leave before temptation got me, instead.
I was climbing from my stool when he reappeared. “Where are you going?” he asked. “I just got us a table by the fire.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “A table? For us?”
He chuckled. “Of course. Now that I’ve managed to find you again, I’m not gonna let you go without learning more about you. Come on—I’ll buy you a drink.”
His smile was warm and inviting, but I hesitated. The last time I’d accepted a drink from a guy... but no. I pushed that thought from my mind. It had been years ago, and that had been a stupid frat boy. Jax was a man, through and through. He’d even helped pick up my shopping! He wouldn’t treat me that way, I knew it.
“What are you drinking?” he asked when we were seated.
“Bourbon,” I replied. He looked impressed, and murmured his order to the waitress.
“That makes sense,” he said with a wink when he turned back to me. “You’re not the sort of girl who drinks cosmos or other frou-frou drinks like that. I can tell.”
I felt myself frown. “What makes you say that?”
“You’re more down-to-earth,” he said. “The frou-frou drinks are for spacey girls. Airheads. You know.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And you’ve known a lot of these girls?”
He laughed. “I’ve known my share. We’ll leave it at that.”
Our drinks came, and I raised mine in a little salute to the man who had bought it for me. Was this really happening, a guy buying me a drink? I had to keep from pinching myself.
I took a sip, then raised my eyebrows. “This is good. What is it?”
“Jefferson’s Ocean.”
I frowned. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s a small batch bourbon from a boutique distillery. They mature it in casks which they put on ocean liners that travel the world. The theory is that as the contents of the barrels slosh with the rocking waves, more liquid comes in contact with the sides of the casks, giving the bourbon character.” He smiled. “I thought it might interest you.”
I took another sip, and found the courage to meet his eyes. “It does,” I murmured. And in my mind I wasn’t talking about the drink.
He asked what I did for a living.
“Right now, I’m helping out my sister,” I told him. “Before that I worked part time.”
“What did you do?”
“I was a baker. I studied culinary arts and worked in a bakery.”
He smiled. “Maybe one day I’ll get you to make me some of those chocolate croissants, like they have at the store.”
I couldn’t help grinning back; little did he know that I had done just that, earlier in the day. Granted, I hadn’t made them specifically for him; it was the baker in me, wondering whether I could do better.
Jax ordered another round of drinks, insisting on selecting and paying. This bourbon was different, but still smooth, and rich, and delicately balanced. “What do you do for fun?” he asked suddenly. He leant back in his chair, his hand softly swirling the ice in his drink as he gazed at me.
I felt warm all over; it wasn’t from the fire. “I don’t really do much,” I admitted. “I mean, I read. I watch movies. I’m a homebody, I guess. How about you? Do you make a habit of coming to bars and picking up women?” My hand went to my mouth and I turned beetroot red. “Oh my god, I’m sorry I didn’t mean that. It just sort of slipped out.”
He burst into a good natured laugh. “You forgot the part about stalking beautiful women around a grocery store.”
I smiled timidly. “Wishful thinking, I guess.” Wait. Did I just say that too? And did he just call me beautiful? The bourbon must be going to my head.
“Wishful thinking indeed,” Jax murmured, meeting my eyes. A tension stretched between us. It was broken by the waiter collecting our glasses.
Jax ordered another round of drinks. “I’ll have a Black Maple Hill 16-Year, and the lady will have Hirsch Reserve. We’ll take them in short glasses, neat, with no ice.”
The waiter nodded, then hurried away.
“That’s the third time you’ve ordered a drink for me,” I commented. “You seem the controlling type.”
He winked at me. “You don’t know the half of it.”
I leaned forward. “So how about you? What do you like doing?”
He considered the question. “I have... expensive tastes. I like good food, fine bourbons, and beautiful women.” He looked at me under lidded eyes. “If we had some of those chocolate croissants here right now, I’d call this evening a perfect trifecta.”
I blushed. “You’re just saying that... about the beautiful women,” I said. I looked down. “I’m sure you could find a hundred ski bunnies in this bar, if that’s what you want.” I waved one hand around the bar; there were, in fact, go
rgeous women all around.
He shook his head. Then his hand went to my cheek, briefly.
It sent a thrill racing across my skin, making my heart beat faster. “I only see one beautiful woman, and she’s sitting across from me.”
Suddenly I was hot all over. My heart was racing a mile a minute. Had he really just said that?
I took another drink of my bourbon. “You’re very forward, aren’t you?” I said. It occurred to me that I’d never see this man again after tonight. Forward wasn’t such a bad thing, and besides, after all my hard work today, didn’t I deserve a little fun? “Are you always like this?”
“Only when I see something I want. It goes hand in hand with that control thing you spotted earlier.”
I looked at him and then, bourbon buzzing through my head, bit my lower lip. “And what is it that you want?”
Chapter 6
We’d tumbled through the door of the cabin and had spent the last half hour kissing like naughty high schoolers on the couch. Erica was still out.
He was a good kisser; his lips the type I just wanted to keep tasting over and over again. Soft, and when his hands went behind my head just... there... I could just close my eyes and get lost in them.
Our kissing was slowly growing more passionate. I delighted in the feel of every rippling muscle beneath his sweater, and I could already feel a deep throbbing starting between my legs; I had never been kissed this way before.
His hand left my head and travelled slowly down my body. It gripped the bottom of my sweater, and began to pull it slowly up.
I broke away from him, panting. “We should stop.”
“You don’t want to continue?”
“I don’t want my sister to come home and find us.”
He kissed me again. “Why don’t we go out to the hot tub, then?”
“I... don’t have a bathing suit,” I stammered.
His smile grew wide. “Neither do I.” Then he kissed me with passion.
When our mouths parted, I was breathless and shaky. He still had that smile on his face, only now there was a note of pride in it. He had me, and he knew it.