Devoted to the Blizzard: A romantic winter thriller (Tellure Hollow Book 3) (8 page)

Josh leaned against the railing, the incredible mountain backdrop just behind him. “I thought I could be stealthy,” he replied, zipping up his thick black jacket. With the dark knit hat and cable scarf, he looked like something out of a fashion magazine. “I was going to leave these for you to look over, but now that you’re up…”

“Can we talk about something else first?” The paper in my hand felt like it weighed thirty pounds. I needed to address it straight away.

“Yeah, of course.” We both sat on the sides of two lounge chairs facing one another. I handed him the letter without explanation. After he read it, he looked up with questioning.

“I got it last night. It’s the second one this sicko has sent to me.” I was surprised by how much my voice trembled when I spoke.

“What was the first one?”

“They’d taken a bunch of the same photos of me and cut out the heads like confetti. There was a letter there too, number ten. It said something like, ‘see you then’ but I have no idea what the hell it’s supposed to mean. It’s beyond messed up,” I grumbled. Fear and exasperation battled each other for dominance in my mind. After a moment, I added, “I got the first one back in the States, too. So whoever it is knows my movements.”

“Do you have any idea who could be doing it?”

I snorted and took another sip of my coffee.
Do I even throw out the possibility? Should I invite the trouble if I’m wrong?
“I can think of one person who doesn’t like
and
knows my movements.”

“Nicole?” Josh asked with surprise. I nodded and glanced at the paper. He didn’t seem to care much about info I thought was shockingly important. “It’s probably not a big deal…” he started to say.

“Are you serious? Hold on,” I snapped, rushing into the room to grab the envelope. Just as I thought. “Look. It was sent from within New Zealand,” I declared waving it around before dropping it in his lap. “The first one was sent from America..”

“There’s no return address. How could you know?”

I blinked at him slowly, waiting for him to realize how silly that comment was.
Good thing he’s pretty ‘cause he’s not that quick…
“The postage. They were both mailed but neither of them have international postage.”

When Josh met my eye, I thought I might’ve seen a hint of worry there. He examined the letter again for a moment before folding and tucking it into the envelope.

“I think you should ignore it. It’s some nutter, or more likely, another skier, trying to throw you off your game. Maybe Nicole, maybe someone else. Best to just forget it. It’s not like you have any enemies.”

I scoffed hard enough it hurt my throat. “You’re joking, right?” Josh squinted at me but said nothing, surprised by my reaction. “Let’s put aside the very plausible idea that Nicole Drexel is the one screwing around. You don’t know anything about what happened to us?”

“Well, sort of. I read a couple articles but…” he said uncomfortably.
Awkward to think about, huh? Imagine having to live it and carry it around, buddy
, I thought.

“Yeah, well… let’s say my tolerance for this kind of bullshit has been completely used up. Of course, I’m entitled to a normal life, in between dodging crazy drug dealers and trying not to get killed. That mini-series they did on me and Bryan made it seem a lot more romantic than it was in reality.”

Josh leaned forward and touched my hand. “I thought that was all behind you now.”

“So did I. If it’s not Nicole or another racer, then…”

We sat in silence for a long moment. I couldn’t tamp down the sour taste in the back of my throat and the beginning twinges of a panic attack building in my chest. As I focused on controlling my breath, Josh spoke again.

“You really shouldn’t worry about this. Loads of people get stalkers and weird fan mail, but nothing ever comes from it. Trust me, New Zealand is a super safe country. Nothing is going to happen to you, I’ll make sure of it.”

I bit my tongue. I counted to ten. I did everything my therapist recommended to control my temper, I swear. “You can knock it right off with that
little lady
bullshit. I know how to take care of myself, and if you knew the first thing about me, you’d understand that.
That
,” I snapped, pointing at the letter, “is dangerous. One way or another, it’s going to the police. Do we understand each other?”

Josh leveled a look at me that I couldn’t read. It verged on respect, fear, and a touch of arousal. I tried my best to ignore that last one… He cleared his throat and nodded. “We’re crystal clear. I’ll take this to the police as soon as I leave here. Do you have anything else you want me to show them?”

“No. I left the other letter at home.” Still furious, I tempered my voice so it at least sounded calm and quiet. I wasn’t angry so much at him but the general situation. I remembered my therapist’s training and sighed. “I’m sorry for losing my temper. I’m already under a lot of stress and something like this…”

Josh put up a hand. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. I’ll take care of you… it! I’ll take care of
it
!” He stammered, his face turning pink over the slip of the tongue. I also chose to ignore it, but my attitude towards him softened.

“You had something you wanted to go over with me?” I said, changing the topic.

“Ah, yeah.” He fumbled with the manila envelope, pulling out a thick stack of paper. “These are some questions I’ve gotten through from the various interviews we lined up for you. The stuff for the live interviews, these marked in blue, are mostly prep work. They’ve posed a bunch of questions that you can go through and yea or nay. The other questions are for written articles and those will be the real pain in the ass.”

I flicked through them as he spoke, and fought a growing frustration. “It’s the same question over and over again. Can’t I just answer them once and they copy the answers?”

“Unfortunately, if you want to do this the right way, you have to answer them all individually. It’s time consuming, but the journalists have already agreed to forgo direct interviews in place of your written responses. These aren’t just for New Zealand. There are global publications in there waiting to hear back.”

“I just want to ski,” I groaned. All the other crap surrounding my career was more a means to an end. I did the publicity not because I wanted the attention, but for my sponsors. If the sponsors were happy and I won races, I’d get to compete more. They had been flexible enough to ward off the face-to-face interviews when I put my foot down. Of course, it’d taken my doctor to tell them my anxiety wouldn’t tolerate the stress, but it’s all the same in the end. “All right. How many are there?”

“Nine. Four or five questions each. You only need to give them a few short sentences they can quote, and you’re done.” Josh tried to put a positive spin on what equated to hours of dull, monotonous work.
Shit that’s keeping me away from Bryan and the mountain.

I’d snapped enough at him for one morning. The poor guy was only doing his job. I fixed a fake smile, and met his gaze. “I’ll get these done today. Thanks for bringing them over so early. I might have some daylight left by the time I’m done.”

I led the way back inside, chatting about the day as I saw him to the front door, and found Bryan in the kitchen. He stood at the oven topless, his back to us as we entered.

“Good morning, babe,” I said quietly, afraid of making him jump.

“Hey sexy. I wanted to wake you up that special way but you were gone when…” he started to say as he turned. He cut short when he saw Josh standing beside me. “Oh, sorry man.”

“No worries,” Josh chuckled. For a split second, he scanned Bryan’s body, taking in the scars before looking away. They were a little jarring the first time. Plus, even if he didn’t know my background, I’m sure he’d heard all about Bryan’s crash. Everyone had. “I was just dropping off some work stuff and now I’m pretty sure I’m on your missus’ hit list.” He turned to me and patted the envelope. “I’ll take this to the station straight away, let you know if they need anything more. Leave it with me. You have more important things to worry about.”

For once, I felt surprisingly secure. I’d freaked, he’d listened, and things were going to get taken care of. “Important things, huh? I feel like you just dropped a school assignment on me. We’ll see about the hit list,” I laughed.

“Again, sorry ‘bout that,” he grinned, touching my shoulder. I could feel Bryan’s eyes on the contact but didn’t move to brush Josh away.
You let that little cutie bartender flirt with you? Let’s see how you like it.

I said goodbye to Josh at the door, and returned to the kitchen. Bryan had plated up scrambled eggs, thick bacon, and a cup of fresh fruit.

“Reminds me of our first breakfast,” I said with a wink. His sweatpants hung low on his narrow hips with no hint of underwear. A surge of longing ran through me.
How long since we’ve been together?

“Hopefully we don’t have to run off again so quickly,” he replied. “I didn’t realize you were going to make breakfast.”

I frowned as I poked the eggs with a fork. “I didn’t. I thought you did.”

“Nope,” he smiled around a bite of bacon.

“That’s so weird. I don’t think I’d ever get used to people cooking and cleaning for me in the first place, but to do it sight unseen? It’s so elitist and bizarre.” I also didn’t want to admit it, but with the letters, I was completely freaked out.
Should I even be eating food I didn’t prepare myself?
But I knew Bryan would dismiss the thought if I’d voiced it. And, by the way he was wolfing down the food, he didn’t seem concerned.

“I think it’s kind of cool, for a short amount of time of course. Like little elves that come in and out,” he grinned with a mouth full of food.

____________

A couple hours later, I was deep into a second pot of coffee and slouched over the laptop. I’d attacked the questions with what I hoped would be a more clever solution. Most of them were very similar but phrased in annoyingly different ways. So I took the core question, answered it in my own words, and then tweaked that based on the exact phrasing the interviewer had put on it.

For instance, all but one of them asked something to the effect of, “How does he feel to be dating/engaged to/around The Blizzard? Do you think that gives you an advantage over the other competitors?”

My generic reply was, “Bryan and I manage to keep our professional and personal lives separate. While I respect his experience and take advice whenever he offers it, I have my own training techniques and methods. To be honest, I see Bryan as the man I’m going to spend my life with, not a professional skier.”

What I really wanted to say was, “Get your greedy, gossipy little nose out of my personal life. I was somebody before I met Bryan, I will continue to be somebody after I marry him, and if you can’t separate the two of us as individuals, then you aren’t worth my time and energy.”

Something told me an answer like that wouldn’t get by Josh. Nor would it win me any brownie points with the sponsors, reporters, and fans.

Bryan gently knocked on the half-open bedroom door and poked his head inside. “Want a little distraction?”

“Oh God, yes, please,” I replied as I pushed the laptop away. “You’re exactly the kind of distraction I was hoping for.”

His handsome face lit up as he stepped inside. My heart sank when I saw the binder in his hand. My expression must’ve betrayed me because he immediately went on the offensive.

“I know, I know, but it’s something we have to do. You can’t put it off any longer.” He settled on the bed and opened the thick book. “Pick one.”

“I can’t,” I protested, falling to my side like a grumpy kid. I’d wanted him as the distraction, not more decisions.

“It’s not difficult. Just point to the design you like.”

“Do I have to?” I whined. “My brain is already fried from this shit, and now you’re bugging me about invitations.”

“Most brides are excited about picking invitations and color schemes and cakes,” he chided. He shut the binder with a loud smack, and crawled up behind me. “You can tell me if you’re having second thoughts about the wedding.”

“No! Of course I’m not.” I spun quickly onto my back, his arm slipping neatly around my waist. “Don’t you dare think that.”

“What is it then? I thought you wanted a traditional wedding and all the crap that comes with it. If you can’t pick out what style invitation you want, how are we going to be able to decide on a menu or flowers or hell, even a dress!” Bryan was good humored, but there was a genuine edge to his voice. I knew I should’ve been helping, but the wedding was the furthest thing from my mind. I couldn’t force myself to care about such silly things.

I lifted my head and kissed him quickly on the lips. “Send everyone an email, serve chicken, purple roses. Done.”

“And the dress?” he asked with a smirk.

“I’ll walk down the aisle naked. It’ll be a nude wedding. The tabloids would go nuts, don’t you think?”

“Classy,” he laughed. “I’m being serious.”

I sat up on my elbow and tossed my hair back over my shoulder. “So am I! I know I said I wanted all this stuff, but now that it comes down to it, all I want is to be your wife. Is that so bad?” I batted my eyes at him, milking the moment.