by Tara Wyatt
“You know, I did mention that to him earlier, but he didn’t seem to think it was an issue.” Which was putting it lightly.
Stammler shook his head. “No, no. I need you to make sure that he’s not going to mess this up. This is your event, Kayla. Fix it.”
“Fix it?” she asked, her eyebrows high. “How am I—”
“Figure it out. Talk to his boss, or the resort manager. Make sure he stays the hell away from anything Silver Stream related. If I even so much as see him, I’m holding you accountable.”
“Mr. Stammler, with all due respect, I’m not sure that’s fair.”
“No one asked you if it was fair, toots. Just fix it.” He’d barely finished speaking before he strode away, heading for the cocktail reception.
She thought she’d hated Sebastian, but Stammler was ten times worse. As much of a pain in her ass as he’d been, Sebastian had never talked down to her or used barely veiled misogyny to put her in her place. With a rock settling in her stomach, she pulled her phone out of her purse and made a new entry at the top of her to-do list for tomorrow morning.
Talk to Sebastian’s boss re: not teaching classes to retreat.
Mentally, she added, and hopefully not get him fired again.
5
Fresh cup of coffee in hand, the snow crunched beneath Sebastian’s boots as he walked from the staff commissary to the main building, hoping to find Patrick in his cramped little office. He’d been thinking about it, and he wanted to talk to him about Chase Van Whitney. Yeah, the kid was a total pain in the ass, but there was talent in him, and Sebastian wanted the chance to nurture that talent. He couldn’t fully explain it because he wasn’t really the nurturing type—he could barely look after his own damn self sometimes—but he felt compelled to help the kid as much as he could.
Maybe it was atonement. Maybe it was seeing something of himself in someone else. He didn’t know. He couldn’t fully explain the urge. But it was one of the only healthy ones he’d had in a long time, so he planned to give in to it.
He glanced in the direction of the lifts and ski hills as he passed, the half-pipe barely visible from his vantage point. Memories of yesterday afternoon slammed into him—memories he’d been fighting back since he’d returned to his cabin yesterday evening.
He sucked in a breath of cold air and stopped walking, staring out over the hills, the mountains, the pines. Yesterday had sucked, plain and simple. He’d come face to face with his former colleagues, because of fucking course they just happened to be having their retreat at the resort he’d escaped to.
“Just get through the next few days and you’ll never have to see any of them again,” he muttered to himself, taking a sip of his coffee. He’d been so humiliated yesterday, and coming face to face with the woman who’d gotten him fired and taken his job had been a new low. He’d managed to achieve a new level of self-loathing, especially because of the way he’d responded to her. God, he’d been so fucking angry when he’d first laid eyes on Kayla. Angry at her, yeah, but also angry at himself for still thinking that she was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. She’d ruined his life and he still wanted her. It was totally fucked up, even for him.
Anger and lust simmered together just beneath the surface, a dangerously potent combination he hadn’t been able to soothe last night, even after he’d fucked his fist, imagining Kayla’s red lips wrapped around him. The idea of putting her on her knees, of wanting her to earn some kind of forgiveness had seared through him and he hadn’t been able to let it go. It would only ever be a fantasy, but it had pushed him to the edge so quickly that he’d come hard and fast with a long groan that had echoed in the too-small shower.
A couple of days and he’d be done with her. Maybe he’d run into her at Theo’s wedding next year since she was friends with Lauren, but he could easily avoid her until then. He hated how far under his skin she’d crawled. Hated that she’d ruined his life and had the fucking audacity to look so goddamn sexy while doing it.
His cock twitched and he took another sip of his coffee, then resumed his walk, pushing away his dirty, unwelcome and yet inescapable thoughts about Kayla.
He stepped inside the main building, a rush of warm air washing over his chilled face. He stamped his snow-crusted boots on the mat a few times before proceeding into the lobby, then turned down a narrow hallway that led to several staff offices, including Patrick’s. But as he approached Patrick’s open door at the end of the hall, a familiar voice had him slowing his steps.
“…would be inappropriate for him to be part of the retreat.”
He came to a stop a couple of feet shy of Patrick’s door as Kayla’s sultry voice filled his ears. Heat flashed through him as he curled his fingers so tightly around his coffee cup that the lid popped off, dropping silently to the carpet. His blood pounded in his ears, making it hard to hear anything else, so he carefully moved a little closer to the door, wanting to hear just how Kayla was trying to ruin his life again, since apparently once hadn’t been enough.
“I see,” he heard Patrick murmur, not sounding terribly convinced. “I understand your concern, but he’s one of the top instructors here. If he doesn’t mind, I’d prefer to keep him on.”
“As the customer, I don’t think my request is unreasonable,” she said in that tense, clipped tone she used whenever she was trying to get her way. “The fact is, Sebastian Prescott is not only a former employee, but was fired with cause, and as such, we feel it would be a conflict of interest to have him work as a part of this retreat.”
“So you want me to assign someone else to teach your group’s lessons? Because he used to work for you?” He could picture Patrick scratching his bald head.
“That’s right. I don’t…” She stopped and cleared her throat. “As the event coordinator, it’s my job to make sure this entire retreat goes off without a hitch.”
“Did something happen during yesterday’s group lesson?”
She hesitated slightly. “Well, no. No, the lesson was fine. I’m not concerned about Sebastian’s teaching ability. But…when he worked for our company, there were several issues.” She paused and cleared her throat. The implication was heavy in the air that he wasn’t the kind of person Blizzard Ridge should want to work with either.
“Son of a bitch,” whispered Sebastian, something hotter and brighter than anger beating through him. Fury. Rage. How dare she? How fucking dare she? It wasn’t enough to get him fired once. No, she had to do it again. She couldn’t seem to resist ruining his life whenever the opportunity presented itself. He didn’t understand what he’d ever done to her to make her hate him so much. He’d hired her, given her amazing opportunities, and what had she done? She’d stabbed him in the fucking back.
What the fuck was Kayla Bristowe’s problem?
“Right,” Patrick said stiffly, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. “Well, I’ll take it under advisement. I understand where you’re coming from.”
“Thank you for your time.”
Sebastian barely had time to school his face into a neutral expression before she stepped out of Patrick’s office, closing the door behind her. Her eyebrows shot up and her mouth formed a tiny O.
“Sebastian,” she said, her voice soft. Her cheeks turned a shade of deep pink. “How…how long have you been standing there?”
He leaned against the wall, staring at her, his eyes narrowed. He felt too hot, like someone had cranked the heat up.
“Long enough to hear you try to get me fired for a second time.” She opened her mouth to argue and his control snapped. He took a step toward her, curling his fingers around her upper arm. “It wasn’t enough to ruin my life once? You’ve gotta try and take this from me too?”
“I’m not trying to ruin your life!”
“Sure as fuck didn’t sound that way, sweetheart.” He ground his teeth together, his nostrils flaring as he fought back the urge to cage her against the wall. To make her look at him. To make her see him as a person and not jus
t an obstacle to kick out of her way. As dirt beneath her shoe.
She jerked her arm out of his grasp and shoved her finger into his chest. “You listen to me Sebastian, and you listen good because I’m not going to repeat myself. I didn’t get you fired the first time—you did that to yourself, so quit trying to blame me. I’m sorry that I was the one who went to Stammler, but I was drowning. I was fucking drowning, and that was your fault. You were supposed to be there. You were supposed to be in charge and you were freaking MIA. All the time. I. Was. Drowning.” She punctuated each word with a jab right into his sternum.
“Then why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you say, ‘hey, Sebastian, I’m drowning, I need help?’” When she didn’t answer right away, he smirked. “Right. Because that’s not really what it was about. You wanted me gone. You wanted my job, and I was in the way, so you threw me under the fucking bus. Just like you want me gone now. I don’t know what I ever did to you, but you must really hate my guts to go after me like this.”
“I’m not…” She blew out a breath, then pinched her lips together. “I never wanted you gone. I wanted you do to your goddamn job, which you weren’t doing. Which is why you got fired, you asshole. And I don’t hate you. Hating you would require a lot more thought and energy than I’ve ever put into you.”
Her words struck something deep down inside him, but he was too angry to examine what that might be.
“If you had a problem with me, you should’ve come to me. Then and now.”
She let out a frustrated laugh. “You mean like when I tried to talk to you yesterday about how you working on the retreat isn’t appropriate? And it’s not me who has a problem with you now, it’s Stammler. He’s the one who wants you off the retreat.”
He snorted. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t really care what you believe.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, drawing his attention to her breasts. “And I don’t give a flying fuck what you do with your life, Sebastian. I don’t care where you work or how you spend your time. I could fit the amount I care about what you do onto a speck of dust. You got me? But Stammler is my boss, and unlike you, I actually do my job. He doesn’t want you involved, so yeah, I’m trying to make that happen. I wasn’t trying to get you fired. All I wanted was you off the retreat.”
He shook his head, his mind made up, resolve calming him in a way nothing else could right then. “You know what? Fine. Two can play at that game.”
Her eyebrows slammed down over her eyes. “What game?”
“The ‘trying to get each other fired’ game.”
“You’re ridiculous.” But some of the heat had gone out of her eyes, replaced with a cautious wariness. “Grow up.”
“Ridiculous or not, you’re going down.” He leaned in close, pulling her scent into his lungs, anger and lust and something else he couldn’t quite name all tangled up inside him. “You’re going to regret messing with me, Kayla. I promise you that.”
She let out a shuddery breath, glared at him, and stormed off. He watched her go, tilting his head to fully appreciate her ass in those skintight leggings.
“I can’t tell if you want to kill her or have sex with her,” said Patrick, sticking his head out of his now open door.
“Depends on the day,” Sebastian said dryly, shaking his head. Then he turned to Patrick. “Listen, man, I’m sorry that you had to hear that. If you want me off the retreat, that’s fine. I get it. I don’t want to cause problems for you.”
Patrick shrugged. “I’ll swap you for Bodhi, but you’re not in any trouble.” He laid a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “I know you’ve been through a rough patch and that things have been hard for you. I also know you’re really trying to start fresh here, and I respect that. So don’t worry about your job, because you’ve got one here for as long as you want.”
“Until the snow melts,” murmured Sebastian, the weight of the future pressing down on him. Right now, things were good. He could ride and teach and had a place to stay. An environment in which temptation was at a minimum. But what would happen come April? Would he go back to New York? Without a job or a place to live? Yes, he knew he could always crash with Lucian or Max—he’d always been able to depend on his brothers, which was a freaking miracle given their family dynamic growing up. But what would happen once he was back in the city, surrounded by places associated with all of the shit from the past? And if he couldn’t go back to New York, then what? Returning to the corporate world held less appeal the longer he was out here, but he had no clue what he wanted to do instead. He didn’t feel like he was any closer to any kind of clarity on all of this than he’d been a month ago.
“Until the snow melts,” agreed Patrick, clapping him on the shoulder. “Don’t let her get to you. We’re all on your side here, okay? Forget those corporate assholes.” He could hear the warning in Patrick’s tone. It was a warning coupled with a plea. Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t do anything reckless.
But there were only so many impulses he could fight off before he finally gave in to one. And getting revenge on Kayla Bristowe was one he wasn’t going to be able to let go.
She’d fucked with him one too many times, and he wasn’t going to let her get away with it.
6
Sebastian glanced over his shoulder, double checking that the hallway was empty before darting into Patrick’s office and closing the door. It was just shy of lunchtime, and although he’d spent the morning teaching another adult beginner class—this one not including Kayla, thank God—his mind had only been half-focused on teaching. The rest of his brain had been happily occupied coming up with how he was going to take Kayla down.
And then, while they’d been working through a series of drills, he’d remembered something she’d said to Patrick. Something about being the event coordinator for this retreat. So, if the retreat went badly, that’d be on her, wouldn’t it? Instead of messing with her directly, he messed with the retreat instead? What if he turned it into such an embarrassing disaster that Stammler had no choice but to blame Kayla?
It was the perfect solution, and the second he’d landed on it, the anger still bubbling inside him had settled into something smoother, more focused. Now he wasn’t just pissed. He was pissed with a plan, which felt so much better.
And so, here he was, an hour before lunch time, putting his plan into action. He sat down in front of Patrick’s computer, jabbing at the space bar to wake it up. He was greeted with the standard Blizzard Ridge employee login page, asking for Patrick’s password. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, thinking, his eyes darting over Patrick’s desk. When his gaze landed on a framed picture of Patrick and his beloved black lab, Groucho Barks, he grinned, typing “grouchobarks” into the password box.
Bingo.
Having spent nearly the past decade in a corporate environment, he was able to navigate through the employee files easily to find what he was looking for: a copy of the retreat’s itinerary. Once he had the document open, it didn’t take him long to start making subtle but important changes. Switching the time of key speeches and meetings, changing the room numbers of various presentations, misspelling the names of presenters. Once he was satisfied, he printed about fifty and then went back and made even more changes, then printed more, sowing chaos with just a few keystrokes and clicks. Everything would be totally disorganized, something Stammler absolutely hated. And he’d blame Kayla, since the retreat was her project, and Sebastian’s payback would be officially underway.
“What are you doing?” asked Lane from the doorway, her head cocked and her arms crossed over her chest. Crap, he’d been so absorbed in what he’d been doing, he hadn’t even heard the door open. “Does Patrick know you’re in here?”
“No. Come in and close the door,” he said, waving her inside as he spun in the chair and collected his first batch of print outs. With a wary look on her face, Lane stepped inside, gently closing the door behind her.
“So, you wanna fill me in here?” s
he asked, eyeing the stacks of itineraries currently on Patrick’s desk. Sebastian paused in his sorting long enough to look up and meet her gaze.
“Payback,” he said, gesturing to the piles of papers. “This is payback.”
“For…?”
He sighed and leaned back in Patrick’s chair, the frame creaking under his weight. “I used to work for Silver Stream Development, the company having their retreat here.”
“Okay. So?”
“So I got fired.”
“And?”
“The woman responsible for organizing the retreat came to Patrick behind my back this morning to complain about me working with the retreat and implied that I shouldn’t be working here, either. She played a role in getting me fired from Silver Stream, and she’s deliberately trying to screw up my situation here, too. It was over the line.”
“Ouch. That’s shitty.”
“Yeah. So.” He held up the fistful of papers. “Revenge.”
“Huh.” She leaned against the closed door, her arms once again crossed over her chest. “You wanna remind me which one of the twelve steps is revenge? Does it come before or after making amends?”
He froze. He’d only ever talked to Lane about his knee injury, never any of the other shit in his past. No, that was a topic he’d carefully avoided. “What…” He swallowed thickly, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. “I’m not an addict.” Which wasn’t really true, but the shame burning in his gut made the lie easier than the truth.
Lane rubbed her fingers over her mouth. “Listen. I saw something in you when you first started here. Something I recognized because I’ve dealt with it too.”
“Dealt with what?” He frowned, leaning forward.
She shrugged. “You and I aren’t that different. You blew out your knee, and I had to stop competing because I wrecked my back. I had to have major surgery, and while I was recovering, I got real friendly with my pain meds. Too friendly.”