Well, shit.I wasn’t looking to replace riding with cleaning, but as long as it keeps me off the mountain, I guess it’ll work.
I grab my bag and start wandering in search of the lockers I assume are still here somewhere. A hallway opposite the reception desk hasthe door I’m looking for, and I push it open to find a functional if not very appealing room.
Benches stretch across the middle of two alcoves, lined with wooden lockers. A freestanding boot warmer sits just next to the door. Combination locks are attached to a handful of cabinets... They must give you the lock and the digits at the front desk, but since I’m not going back there, I pick an empty spot and stash my bag inside, half-hoping it won’t be here when I come back for it. That’d be another handy excuse to stay off the slopes.
Back in the main hallway, I find a utility closet and a half dozen bottles of cleaning shit, and even though I’d rather clean than ride, I put a scowl on my face before I walk out so Frosty doesn’t know I actually got my way.
Chapter four
Hayden
The rhythmic clicking of keys compressing reverberates around the room as I furiously type out an email I know I’ll never send, but feel better writing.
Of all the nerve—Carter’s charity case shows up here smelling like a distillery when the whole point of this community service thing is to make up for his drinking problem—and he thinks I’ll let him on the mountain in that state? He’d probably end up running into one of the participants and getting the program sued.What an ass.
He’s lucky he has friends in high places, because I’d never put someone like him around people who are less fortunate. Not only does his attitude screamentitled—he’s got all the physical capability people in this center lack, and he’s too insensitive to realize how he wastes what other people were robbed of.
“I can ride in any condition.”I punch the keys harder as I recall his arrogant remark. I bet he thought the same thing when he got behind the wheel, and look where that got him. Ryder’s damn luckyhe’sstill physically intact, not to mention the fact he didn’t harm anyone else.
Ryder may be a functional alcoholic, he may have a disease, but that doesn’t absolve him from responsibility. He can drink himself stupidevery night for the rest of his life so long as he does it without driving. That’s not a big ask. Or it shouldn’t be.
God forbid the rules apply to Ryder, arrogant dick.
I can’t believe Carter thinks this is a good idea. When I interviewed with him, I got the impression he was tough but fair, and devoted to both the resort and the town. I sort of admired the man. Now I’m wondering if he presented a false front, or if I was too blinded by ambition to see the truth.
My job back east was a good one, and if it offered me the opportunity to advance, I wouldn’t have left it. Especially, not for a position where following the owner’s directive could put my reputation in jeopardy. What makes Ryder important enough to risk my professional integrity and the success of our fledgling program?
It boils my blood to see someone like that getting special treatment. What boils it even more is that the jerk comes wrapped in such a desirable package.
Physically, Ryder’s exactly my type, and despite his surly attitude I was undeniably attracted to him. Tall, bordering on six feet. Lean but not lanky, with piercing brown eyes that draw you in despite being slightly bloodshot. And the hair—a disheveled mess that somehow manages to look silky to the touch, which only enhances his devil-may-care persona.
I hate that I noticed all that. That I could feel my face flushing as his eyes studied me, and not solely from anger. Ryder has pissed-off bad boy written all over him, and with that mouth there’s no doubt he’s every bit the rebel people swoon over. Me included, apparently, seeing as how I alternately wanted to kiss or kill him.
Why can’t the hot ones be golden retrievers?
It’s not fair that a guy like him piques my physical interest when so many genuinely great guys don’t, but I’m determined not to cave to hisarrogant swagger. I meant what I said about taking my job seriously, and that means keeping guys like him away from the people who want a safe, fun experience on the mountain. If that means defying Carter, so be it. I may be stuck with Ryder, but that doesn’t mean our clients have to be.
Just as I delete the little rant from my screen, I hear a soft knock on the door. “Come in.”
A fair skinned brunette guy with captivating green eyes pokes his head inside as the door opens. “Is this a bad time?”
“No, please.” I gesture to the chair in front of my desk.
“Sure? You look sort of flushed. Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah.” I offer a weak smile, shoving my keyboard back like I’ve been caught red-handed. “Just…paperwork is stressful. How can I help you.”
He approaches with a warm smile, hand extended. “I’m Sloan,” he says as we shake. “Carter’s boyfriend.”
“Uh, hi.” I swallow back the gasp that threatens to spill from my lips.Boyfriend? I deleted that email rant, right? No way this guy can know I was just daydreaming about telling Carter off.
Sloan takes a seat, oblivious to my panic. “I wanted to welcome you to town. I would’ve done it sooner, but I wanted you to have time to get settled, and then things got busy at work with the mountain opening.”
“Work?” I didn’t know Carter had a boyfriend, much less what he does for work.
“I’m a physical therapist.”
“Isn’t that a year-round business?” I wrinkle my nose.
