Devoted to the Blizzard: A romantic winter thriller (Tellure Hollow Book 3) (6 page)

“Just ignore the bitch. I’m here to race, not to get into some social media fight,” I snarled.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it. I didn’t think you’d have any problems, but I’ll just keep radio silence. Should blow over in a couple days—oh wait! I almost forgot. Liz, can you come with me real quick?” Josh led me back up the stairs to the front door, but opened a closet to the side. He flashed me a white smile and rapped on the wooden door.

“I don’t get it,” I frowned at him. “It’s a nice door and all…”

“Inside.”

I swung the door open and my jaw dropped. Leaning against the back of the small coat closet was a brand new pair of K2 skis, a matching suit, boots, poles, the works.

“Are you serious?” I asked, tempering my reaction to his response.

“Another thing your sponsor wanted you to have.” He smiled as if he were the one giving me this incredible gift.

The squeal I’d been holding in finally came out, drawing Bryan from the living room. I dove for the gear. The design on the skis was a beautiful blend of orange and purple, strong yet feminine. The swirls on the boots continued up the leg of the suit, a few curls finishing on the top of the helmet like puffs of smoke.

“Janet made sure they were freshly tuned and set just for you. That woman is a real pisser,” Josh added with a chuckle.

Bryan let out a low whistle as he admired my new equipment. “Good thing we bothered to bring all your stuff from home.”

“But now I have choices!” I couldn’t contain my glee. It was all happening. Nearly three years ago, I didn’t even know how to ski. Now here I was with a sponsor, expensive equipment, and on the brink of my first professional race. There were upsides to the fame. “Oh my God, I
have
to go try these out. Do you have time to take me to the mountain?” I asked Josh.

His face lit up at my excitement, his own boyish charm shining through. “Yeah, sure, it’s what I’m here for. Once we get your pass, you should be able to hop right on the slopes.”

“Gah! Yes, this is great.” All my exhaustion was wiped clean. It’d been months since I’d felt the snow beneath my feet. I couldn’t wait to fly down that mountain. “Do you want to come with?” I asked Bryan as I tore through my suitcase hunting for something to change into. “I know we can’t ski together, but maybe you could do a little bit.”

“No, that’s all right. I’m tired, and someone’s going to have to unpack. We’re here for nearly a month, and if I leave it up to you, it’ll never get done.”

Josh laughed and excused himself. “I’ll be in the car when you’re ready.”

I waited for the front door to click shut before asking. “You’re really okay if I leave? We just got here and I’m already abandoning you.” I stepped over the half emptied mess of a suitcase and smothered his face all over with kisses.

“Yeah, yeah. Transparent affection isn’t going to change that,” he laughed. “Really though, I’m fine. You need to practice. Plus, if you let those skis sit there unused another minute longer, they’re mine.”

“But they’re too pretty for you,” I cooed as I gazed at my new equipment.

“I could rock ‘em.” He gave me a tight hug and sighed. “Go. Conquer the mountain. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

I’d fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for Liz to get back from training the night before. After a quick dinner of cereal and some small talk, we turned in early. Jet lag left me feeling like I didn’t know up from down, but I was glad to climb into bed with her snoozing by my side.

When I cracked one eye open to check the time, I wasn’t sure if it was 6 a.m. or p.m. With the pale, dim light outside, it could’ve been either. I rolled over to find Liz’s side of the bed empty, and as I wandered through the house calling out her name, I found my only company was a note in the kitchen.

Didn’t want to wake you. Early training today. Meet you at the lodge for dinner at 7?

Liz x

It hadn’t been easy for Liz when we’d first moved in together. She was such an independent person that it had been difficult sharing her life with someone else. The first few months were rough, I’m not gonna lie. We both struggled with our demons, and our place in Tellure Hollow sometimes felt like it wasn’t big enough to house all of them.

I smiled at the note and tucked it away in my pocket. One of the biggest fights we had was over a note just like this one. Well, specifically, it was the lack of a note. Liz had a habit of taking off without telling me, leaving for hours at the strangest times, which made me understandably anxious. When she came home and found me pissed off, waiting on the sofa like some stereotypical housewife, we butted heads big time.

“You don’t own me! I can come and go as I please,” she had shouted.

“It’s not a matter of possession. I worry about you. I want to make sure you’re safe,” I’d countered.

“It’s not your job to keep me safe. I don’t need you to be my protector!”

It was when I absentmindedly said, “I care about you. The last time I couldn’t find you…” that the fight finally ended.

I remember the way her face dropped. Struck with an intense realization, her keys fell to the floor, and she collapsed into my arms with a sob. With all the traumatic stuff we’d been through, it was important we remained empathetic. I was holding on too tightly, she was pushing away too hard. That had been a real turning point.

So needless to say, finding a note from her waiting on the counter was second only to being able to have breakfast together.

A fresh pot of coffee was waiting on the warmer, presumably from one of the mysterious staff who worked invisibly behind the scenes. I helped myself to a cup, and made my way through the living room to the deck beyond. The morning was fresh, and splashes of pink and orange streaked across the sky as the sun rose. The glassy lake perfectly reflected the rocky edges of the mountain range ahead. A snow had come in overnight, dusting the tops like confectioners’ sugar.

I’ve been all over the world, thanks to my skiing career. I never tired of the mountains, the cold, and the rugged beauty. The last three years in Tellure Hollow was the longest I’d stayed in one place since my dad began training me as a kid. This trip brought mixed feelings for me. I enjoyed our quiet little home in Colorado, our simple, normal life. But I knew Liz dreamed of bigger things, and I wasn’t going to hold her back from that.

Doesn’t mean it was easy for me. I’m as competitive as they come. You don’t fight your way through qualifications, race after race with your eye on the Olympics without sacrificing a lot of yourself. There’s Liz, carving up the mountain like a pro, focusing all her attention on training… and here I am, working hard with my physical therapist so I can stand up from the couch without groaning.

I sipped my coffee and smiled grimly to myself.
It’s funny how life works out sometimes.

____________

A few hours later, I drove into town looking for a bite to eat. Queenstown, and all of New Zealand for that matter, was almost more beautiful than I’d imagined. Even in the monochrome gray and white of winter, the colors and scenery were turned up like God had messed with the saturation levels. Nature was absolutely vibrant. Rows of shops, great little pubs, the center shopping area that gently sloped to the edge of the lake. So picturesque. I wanted to explore, to fill the time when Liz was off training so I wouldn’t get bored, but I also didn’t want to see everything without her.

I pushed on to Kawarau Peak, and figured I could get a quick drink while I waited for her to finish up. In all the places I’ve skied, the resort lodge remains consistent. You’d be hard pressed to find a lodge that didn’t include, in some form or fashion, roaring fires, a well-stocked bar, and comfy seating. Throw in an assortment of antlers, old skis, and thirteen different kinds of wood paneling, and you’ve built yourself pretty much every lodge I’ve ever seen. The Double Diamond was no different.

Not wanting to look like a complete loser sitting at a table by myself, I pulled up a stool at the bar. A petite blonde strolled over and laid a bar napkin down.

“Hi, I’m Paige. Can I get you something to drink?”

I was taken aback by her accent. “Hey now. I was expecting a Kiwi, not another American. Does no one care about authenticity anymore?”

My joke was rewarded with a bright smile. “Guess we’re both a long way from home. On vacation?”

“Not exactly,” I chuckled.

Her green eyes sparkled with excitement. “Oh! Are you a racer? I heard people are starting to arrive for the competition.”

“Oh, no, no. My fiancée is, though. I’m far too out of shape to compete anymore.” It came out bitterly, rather than self-deprecating. I winced a little, afraid I’d dumped out too much attitude at once.

She rested her hands on the edge of the bar, and leaned forward. Her eyes shamelessly studied what she could see of my body. “You look like you’re in pretty good shape to me,” she replied with smirk and a shrug.

Too stunned to react, I let out a nervous laugh. I’ve lived a sheltered life. Angie and I got together when we were teenagers and I simply wasn’t used to such aggressive women. Hell, Liz was so forward she terrified me at first, and I don’t think even she would hit on a guy who’d just revealed he was already taken.

Paige apparently thought my embarrassment was cute and was kind enough to spare me, at least for a little bit. Still, her gaze twinkled like I wasn’t completely free from her grasp. “Lemme get you a drink.”

Perfect, calm my stupid nerves.
“What can you recommend? I want a New Zealand beer but I have no idea what’s good.”

“I know just the thing for you to start on.” She spun around and bent at the waist, reaching into a small fridge at the back of the bar. I averted my eyes, making a point to not stare at her ass as she grabbed the bottle.

“Speight’s,” I said, reading the label as she set it down on the bar.

She gave me a coy, knowing smile, probably thinking I’d checked her out. “They make it in Dunedin, just south of here. It’s good. Do you want a glass or just the bottle?” she asked turning back to the fridge.

“No,” I said a little too quickly. I just didn’t want her bending over again. “Bottle is fine.”

She moved down the bar to greet a new customer and I pulled out my phone, hoping my stubble hid the blush rising in my cheeks. I checked my email and nearly choked on my beer when I saw what was waiting for me. A message from Angie. I blinked a couple times, unsure I was reading it correctly. It’d been years since she’d made any contact with me…

Hey Bry!

Totally had a dream about you last night and felt like the universe was telling me to get in touch. How are you? How’s life? I feel horrible that we haven’t kept in touch this whole time. Well anyway, I hope you write me back.

XOXOX,

Angie

Paige smiled and tilted her head to the side, a cutesy move that made her look young but still sexy. “Want anything to eat? There’s not a lot on the menu, but the samosas are delicious.”

I shook my head, setting the beer back down on the bar after taking a sip. “I’m all right, thanks. I’m just chillin’ here until she gets done in an hour with training, then we’re heading out to dinner. I’ll probably only have this.”

But one hour turned into more than two. One beer became three. The slow bar gave Paige plenty of time to stand around and chat with me. She was bubbly, energetic, and incredibly upbeat. Even though she looked young, I was still surprised when she revealed she’d only just turned twenty. I discovered she was in New Zealand on a working holiday visa with her cousin. Not knowing what to do with herself in college, she figured she’d spend the tuition on a flight around the world and try to find herself.

“So far, all I’ve found is a shit ton of hard work,” she laughed. “I don’t have the trust fund my cousin does. Lazy cow is probably still in bed and I have to leave for my second job in a couple hours.”

“It’s good, though. A strong work ethic will take you far in life.” I took a sip of beer, cringing at how old and fatherly that advice had been. She seemed to ignore it, flicking the bar towel over her shoulder casually. She crossed her arms and I fought my natural inclination to check out her cleavage.

“Well, work ethic or not, I’m never going to look at a fruit cup the same way. Picking fruit in the middle of an Australian summer should be in the Geneva Conventions.”