I can't fucking believe it. "No, we aren't."
She grins, a wild thing that lights up her whole face. "Fine. Looks like I'm racing myself down the mountain, then." She spins on her heel and stalks off, her hips swaying.
I watch her storm away, my blood pressure rising with every stomp. Goddamn it. There are a hundred ways this could go wrong, and every single one of them plays out in my head. I hate this. I hate that Austin was right, and I hate that she's right, too. I don't want to be the guy who wraps her in caution tape or makes her feel less than. And I don't want to be the one who puts her at risk over a fucking bet, either.
I tip my head back and let out a hiss, swearing so loud I half-expect the beams overhead to echo it back.
A shadow falls across me a second later. It's Briggs, looking at me like he just watched a man lose a fight to a small, angry raccoon and isn't sure if he should help or laugh.
"She's going whether you're with her or not, man," he says, his voice soft. "If I were you, I'd get my ass on that van and hope like hell that you actually win."
I don't think I stop cursing the entire way to the van.
Chapter Four
Sophie
Thankfully, I don't have to ride in the van with Harlan. By the time we make it to the slopes, I'm mostly calm. I also deeply, deeply regret not agreeing to forget this entire stupid bet. But I refuse to let him think that I'm some delicate little flower who needs to be wrapped in bubble wrap. Hell no.
I've danced entire seasons on broken toes and fractured bones. I've performed in pain that most people wouldn't understand because that's the price I knew I was willing to pay to dancewhen I was still just a little girl. You don't get to hide from sacrifice and be a professional ballerina at the same time, so I made my sacrifices willingly.
And I've never—not once—regretted a single one of them. Even when the entire damn ballet world was in an uproar about my company signing a "fat ballerina" as a principal, I didn't regret it.
I regret this stupid bet.
But Harlan doesn't get to sweep in now and decide for me what I can and can't do when that's always been my decision to make. I don't need to be protected. I've never needed that.
The wind is biting at the top of the slopes. And my heart is hammering so loud I'm pretty sure everyone can hear it. But as soon as he climbs from the second van, straightening to his full height, I plaster a bright smile on my face and pretend I'm not scared as hell.
Let's be clear: I am.
Let's also be clear: hell will freeze over before I let Harlan "You're a Breakable Little Ballerina" Ward know that. I'll die first.
People have underestimated me since I started dancing. I really hate that Harlan's doing it, too. I'm not an athlete to him. And, apparently, I'm not smart enough to keep myself safe, either.
Maybe skiing is risky, but it's no more of a risk to me than it is to any of the other dozen professional athletes standing out here with me…including him. Breaking something on this mountain could end their careers, too. But he isn't trying to stop them, now, is he?
No.
He stomps toward me, his boots crunching in the snow, and reaches for my skis without a word. Before I can even react, he's squatting beside me to fit the bindings to my boots.
When I try to protest, he flicks his gaze up, pinning me with it.
My mouth snaps shut.
He grunts when my toes crunch down, and my balance wobbles, but he still isn't satisfied. He checks the skis carefully, making sure the bindings are fitted perfectly to my boots.
"Harlan," I manage, "I'm good."
He rises to his feet without a word. His hands run down my arms, over the straps of my helmet, and then he tests to see if I'm zipped, velcroed, and harnessed in all the right places.
"What are you doing?" I whisper, my heart thudding against my ribcage.
He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he finishes his inspection, then meets my gaze. His eyes are so serious that I forget to breathe. "If you die on this mountain, I'll spank your gorgeous ass."
"If I die on this mountain, I'm haunting you," I grumble, scowling at him. "And I'm going to be an annoying ghost."
"Yeah?" A grin flickers at his lips before he hoists me onto the chairlift. "Haunt away, baby."
