Chapter 1 #2
Renner is objectively hot, and his face has more settings than ’sup bro, which would be enough to make him attractive on its own, but he’s also got nice hair, a straight nose, straight teeth, and a killer body.
And he’s competing in the same events I am, so he’ll be a lot of fun to watch.
Might even be enough to keep me entertained this season.
Unfortunately, the way he keeps checking Angel’s ass out tells me everything I need to know, but honestly, that just makes him safe territory to flirt with.
My mind takes a dive down a debauched rabbit hole, envisioning a night with them both sweating and panting my name, but the no-fraternization rules Grey has in place are there for a reason.
“Yeah, sure,” I finally answer, realizing no one else will know where to go. “There’s a bar on the eastern boundary called Meltdown. A lot of tourists avoid it because it’s not part of the base village. Let’s go there.”
We all exchange numbers, and just like that, we’re bonding.
I’m the first one here. Kat is working the bar tonight, so I let her know to expect the group.
“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll take a group of professional boarders who have something to lose over the frat guy, wannabe boarders who think the world should bow down to them because they hit an intermediate slope without breaking their neck, any day of the week.”
I hear that.
Moving to a table by the window, I start pulling chairs up to accommodate everyone. Shockingly, Gibson, Trent, and the other girl, Tasha, all arrive on time. The others aren’t far behind.
When Kat comes out from behind the bar, I introduce her and make sure these guys know they’ll answer to me if they give her shit.
Kat and Stone are the closest things I have to friends here.
Fuck-buddy is actually the term Kat chose, but she started seeing someone a few months back, and I’ve been in a dry spell ever since.
Nonetheless, I take my turf very seriously. And Kat definitely falls under the purview of ‘mine.’
“Listen up, fuckers. This is Kat. She’s the best bartender this mountain has ever seen. She and I will be here long after you’ve moved on, so be kind to her, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”
Everyone fist-bumps her and offers high-fives as they place their orders.
Renner even addresses her as Your Royal Highness, earning a smirk from Kat and a head nod from me.
Kat laughs as she moves around the table, and a pang of loss moves through my chest.
A few minutes later, once everyone has been served, I’m pleasantly surprised by how well the conversation flows. Halfway through my beer, Renner switches places with Angel and asks for the seat next to me.
“Hey man, nice to finally have a conversation with you. Never got the chance to congratulate you for kicking my ass in the West Coast Trailblazers Competition last year.”
I turn toward him, offering my best media smile.
The one that makes my dimples pop. I also take the opportunity to clap him on the back.
Knowing he’s off-limits makes me want to flirt with him even more, and I have to admit, it feels fucking good to have my hands on a man again. It’s been too fucking long.
“Thanks. You made me work for it. It was a fun competition,” I tell him, even though I don’t remember much about it.
He throws his head back in laughter. “Dude, I didn’t make you work for shit. I didn’t even podium in that competition.”
Oh. Oops.
Playing it off, I shrug. “Doesn’t mean you didn’t play a role in my performance anyway.”
“If you say so, man. I’m just glad we’re on the same team this year.”
“You doing any indie events?” I ask, knowing Grey promised I’d have the opportunity to do a few myself.
“Aw, hell. I forgot about those. Looks like I’m going to get my ass kicked again.
” He takes a gulp of his beer, and the way my dick twitches at the movement of his Adam’s apple tells me I need to get laid.
Soon. Way before Renner Gentry distracts the fuck out of me.
The idea of fucking him and Angel is seriously appealing, but again, it goes against every rule created for thick-skulled imbeciles like me.
The no-fraternization rules within Patterson Performance apply to teammates, coaching staff, and anyone paid by our organization.
Not to mention, fucking your teammates is seriously shit on your concentration, and I need to concentrate on winning.
Prize purses in these competitions are really my only option for a decent income if I don’t want to work until I’m ninety, and this competition has the biggest I’ve ever seen.
Patterson Performance and the resort pay me enough to cover my bills, but what the hell I’m going to do after thirty is a constant worry.
“You have any idea who they’re bringing on to finish out the coaching staff?” Renner asks, pulling my attention back to the present.
I don’t, actually, and I’m a little butt-hurt over the fact that Grey wouldn’t tell me. All he said was, ‘I don’t want to get your hopes up. I’ll only believe it once he’s arrived.’ But the mystery coach has to be here by now if we start training tomorrow, right?
I shake my head at the same time Gibson looks our way and says, “I heard it’s Connor Lang.”
No fucking way.
No.
Fucking.
Way.
Connor Lang is my idol.
He also disappeared off the face of the earth five years ago. He was at the top of his game, took home two Olympic gold medals, and then just…vanished.
“Nah, you either heard wrong or someone just wants to fuck with you,” I tell Gibson. “I’ve followed Lang’s career my whole life. Dude’s in the wind. He’s probably in rehab somewhere.”
“Well, we won’t have to wait long. He’s supposed to be here for our first run tomorrow,” Gibson finishes.
“Anyone know the new coach’s specialty?” I ask.
“I’m assuming snowboard cross and slalom since those are the only areas that don’t have a designated coach yet,” Angel offers.
Shit. She’s right.
Which means whoever the new guy is, he’ll be assigned to Renner and me. It’s hard to find someone who has the combination of speed and technical skills we need for those events, and we’re the only two left without a primary coach.
Conversation continues swirling around me as I get lost in my thoughts until the door to the bar opens, letting in a gust of cold wind.
When I turn my head out of habit, none other than Connor Lang stands on the threshold, rubbing his bare hands together.
And fuck if my world doesn’t tilt on its axis.