I’m probably asking for more trouble with this line of thinking. No, I definitely am. There are so many ways this could end badly. Whether it breaks me down to a shell of myself or Ryder becomes too reliant on me for his own good, getting closer to him is a bad idea. My professional self knows that. But my personal self seems to be saying “fuck it.” He sees an opening, and he wants to take it.
Now to get off this slope, preferably before the daylight is gone.
Pushing myself up I bend my knees, shift my weight to my front leg, and let gravity do its job. For a brief moment I feel it, that weightless glide over the snow. But just as I start to enjoy it, momentum takes over and I careen toward the trees lining the edge of the run.
Chapter seventeen
Ryder
Of all the dumbass things I’ve done today, leaving my bag in the locker room comes second only to kissing the ice prick. Now, instead of facing him tomorrow, I’ll have to do it today, less than an hour after rubbing my dick against him like a horny teenager. He’s likely to take my quick return as a sign I want more, when really all I want is my housekey out of my bag so I can get home and end this fucking disastrous day.
At least…I think that’s all I want. That kiss was a fluke. I only did it to shut him up, not because I wanted to…Right?He drives me halfway to insanity, I can’t actually be attracted to that. Or I could—the guy really is beautiful, and a damn fine kisser—but I’m not, because I swore I wouldn’t get involved with anyone. Especially not a man who thinks he can fix me.Fuck, he’s got me confused.
I’m half-tempted to find a couch to surf on just so I don’t have to face him so soon after losing control, but the only couch I’d consider is Deacon’s, and after seeing him flirt with Hayden he’s the last person I want to see.
I can’t even begin to unpack that, right now. Between the fact Deacon’s apparently always been bi, my unfounded jealousy, and thatfucking kiss… My brain can’t take any more revelations. I only hope I can get in and get out of the adaptive center unnoticed.
“Ryder.”
Fuck.
Pausing with my hand stretched toward the door, I look over my shoulder at Carter. “For real man? It’s like fifteen degrees out and you’re in a suit.” I drop my hand to my side and spin to face him fully.
He rocks back on his heels as he looks down his tall frame with a little shrug. “Habit. You don’t like it?”
“I’d say you look like my dad but even he doesn’t wear a suit. No one does. I’m itchy just looking at you.”
Carter throws his head back and laughs. “I guess they’re an acquired taste. They also make people take me seriously."
I arch my brow at him. “Owning the whole place doesn’t do that for you?”
“It helps. Plus, Sloan likes them.”
“That I buy. So, what’s up?” I cross my arms in front of my chest, hoping he’ll get the hint that I’m not interested in small talk.
“You’ve taken guests out a few times now, right? How’s it going?”
“Fine.”
“Justfine?”He lifts his brows,
I drop my hands to my side and let out an exaggerated breath. “What do you want me to say? It’s community service.”
His chest rises as he pops his jaw, but instead of giving me shit he blinks a few times and exhales slowly. “Only a few more weeks and you’ll be done. Just in time for the Vista Cup event we’re hosting. Think you’ll race?”
“I haven’t been training.” I lift my shoulders listlessly. “Pretty sure I’m not a contender for the podium.”
“Maybe not, but you’ll have to race to keep your eligibility, and the competition in your backyard might be a nice starting point.”
Now it’s my turn to lock my jaw. “I’ll think about it.” I spin around and push through the door before he can respond, putting Carter behind me.
Get in, get out, get home.
Hayden isn’t in the lobby, the first bit of luck I’ve had in months, so I make a beeline to the locker room before he realizes I’m here, cursing Carter as I go.
The last thing I want to add to my growing list of mindfucks is a competition to maintain my eligibility. I’m not ready to get back on the circuit, or to deal with all the people talking about Chase. Even though most people will mean well—except the media vultures who are always stirring up drama—the thought of having to listen to the condolences or, worse, advice on how to move forward literally turns my stomach. No joke, I could puke just thinking about it. Plus, I still haven’t come to terms with the fact that I got forced back on the mountain, especially since, if I’m honest, it does make me feel better. Maybe if I had more time to process that last ride with Chase I’d have found my way back to the slopes on my own since they’re so integral to my life, but since I didn’t have that luxury, I can’t get on a board without feeling a little guilt, and I can’t help wondering if I’ll always have that since my head wasn’t in the right place before I tried to ride.
Mostly though, I’m not ready to face questions about my future.
