Chapter 32
Connor
I’m on cloud-fucking-nine. This is the first time I really feel like I’ve taught Vox something helpful. That run was also eye-opening for me.
I’ve still got it.
I haven’t sailed down a mountain like that in a really long time. I was confident riding next to Vox. He kept me calm while also pushing me. Elite-level athleticism is hard to find, and once you reach it, it can make everything else feel weak and insignificant in comparison.
Clarity struck me on the way down the mountain, confirming something I’d already known to be true, but was too afraid to voice…
I will never meet another man like Vox Montgomery.
Not only does he share my passion for boarding, but he also shares my skill level.
He calms my storms while fueling my passions.
He’s not afraid to give me a fight when I’m looking for one, but he’s also strong enough to be my safe harbor when all the fight’s gone out of me.
He opens himself up to me, commanding my trust and respect, and makes me want to do the same for him.
Since meeting Vox, I’ve healed, I’ve grown… I’ve come back to life.
“Do I have something on my face?” Vox says, pulling me from my epiphany as we slink back closer to the edge of the slope so we’re out of the way.
“Um, no?” I answer, totally confused.
He laughs. “Then why are you staring at me like that?”
To my horror, the words leave my lips before I can catch them, think about them, or fully process them.
“Because I think I’m starting to fall for you.” My eyes go as wide as his, which I can see since his goggles are on his helmet, and I clamp a hand over my mouth. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“Is it true?” he asks. His chest is still heaving, and I can’t tell whether it’s still from the race or the words that just erupted from my mouth.
“Vox, I—”
“I asked if it’s true, Connor,” he says again, interrupting me.
“Yeah, it is. I’m sorry,” I apologize for just throwing the words out there. It somehow feels both too soon, and like I should have said them sooner.
Vox rips his glove off and smacks my ass. It’s a hard slap, but I barely feel it because of all the padding in my clothes. I arch a brow at him in question and listen as this man throws my own words back at me.
“That was for apologizing. Don’t do it again.”
I tip my head back in laughter.
“Oh, hotshot, trust me, I wasn’t apologizing for the way I feel about you. I’m sorry that I just let it spill out like that. It’s fast, and I don’t want you to feel any pressure where I’m concerned.”
Vox undoes his chin strap, drops his helmet in the snow, and reaches for mine. I can’t help the way my eyes dart around as he rips it off, but no one is paying us any attention.
As soon as my helmet lands next to his, Vox’s mouth is against mine. He sucks my top lip between his and rolls his tongue across it in a way that makes me want to fall to my knees in the snow right here.
“I want to feel all the pressure where you’re concerned. Do you hear me? I’ve had a crush on you since I was fourteen fucking years old, Connor. I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up.” He licks across my lips again, and I can’t resist.
“Consider me caught up.”
After two more languid strokes of his tongue, Vox asks, “How about that drink now?”
“Lead the way,” I tell him, reaching down to grab our helmets.
We hold hands on the lift this time, and it’s the most peace I’ve felt in five years.
When we reach the restaurant, there’s a line outside, and I assume our mission is a lost cause until Vox marches right up to the host’s stand and starts chatting with the host like he knows him personally.
Hell, he probably does. Since he lives here year-round, he probably knows a lot of the staff.
“Hey, Freaky Zekey, how’s it hanging?” he asks the host while another employee looks on from his spot next to the heater.
“Vox, how many times have I told you not to call me that?” the host asks. He’s trying to act annoyed, but it’s really fucking hard not to be a little smitten with Vox, especially when you’re the object of his attention.
“No,” Vox corrects. “You told me not to call you Zekey-Dekey, which I didn’t, so you’re welcome.”
The man, whose actual name I’m guessing is Zeke, rolls his eyes.
“What do you want, Montgomery?”
“A table—”
“You know you have to have a reservation,” Zeke says, cutting him off.
“If you’d let me finish, Zeke, I was going to say ‘in the bar.’ We’d like a table for two in the bar. Now, could you please check and see if you have one of those since they are first-come, first-served?”
Zeke looks down his nose at Vox before sliding his eyes to me. He looks me up and down before turning back to Vox. “How’d you manage to land him? He looks like he would put up with exactly zero percent of your shit.”
Sweat breaks out on the nape of my neck, and I step forward to correct him.
“Oh, we aren’t—” but Vox holds up a hand before I can finish and leans an elbow on Zeke’s host stand.
“Not only am I incredibly charming, Zeke, but I can suck dick better than a Dyson sucks dirt, and I can ride one better than a porn star posing as a cowboy. Both of which you would know if you’d ever taken my advice and dumped that shit-for-brains asshole you call a boyfriend.”
Excuse me? Vox came on to this guy? The kid looks like he would play the lead in Cats and knock it out of the park. Doesn’t seem like Vox’s type.
Zeke swallows hard, and I briefly feel bad for him.
He’s maybe five-foot-ten. He’s got nice teeth, but doesn’t seem to smile much.
He has wire-rimmed glasses that went out of style a couple of years ago, and the poor guy has to stand outside in the freezing cold all day.
He does have an outdoor heater right behind him, but still.
He seems kind of lonely. The way he’s interacting with Vox makes me feel like this is the highlight of his day.
And based on Vox’s last statement, maybe it is.
Nonetheless, the urge to scream ‘mine!’ is bubbling just below the surface. I take a step closer to Vox, ready to claim my territory if needed.
Zeke looks away and mumbles, “I told you, it’s complicated.” He quickly takes inventory of the available tables from the app on his iPad. “But I can seat you. You know the rules, though, so I’m assuming you have something on underneath?”
My eyebrows hit my hairline as I look at Vox.
“The restaurant doesn’t allow snow gear inside. So, we take our boots off and place them in the heated cubbies just inside the door. Snow pants, too.”
As soon as we strip down, follow Zeke to our table, and are left alone, I dive in.
“What was that all about?”
“Zeke’s a super nice dude. Nerdy little guy, but a total firecracker when he needs to keep guests in line.
He’s dating this total meathead douchebag, who I suspect is manipulating the fuck out of him.
I tried to get him to go out with me just so he would see he can do better, but to my absolute shock, it didn’t work. ”
I choke back my laugh. Vox is exceedingly cocky, but he’s earned the right.
“I think it’s sweet you made the offer, but just so we’re clear, that offer is no longer on the table; am I correct?”
Vox runs his socked foot up the pant leg of my fleece-lined joggers. It’s weird to be in a fancy restaurant in socks.
“You tell me, Coach.”
Suddenly, Vox’s foot is gone, as is the playful smile on his face. Wondering what has him spooked, I turn in my seat to see Grey and Rachel Patterson approaching our table.
Thankfully, our server beats them here and takes our order for two beers before disappearing.
Grey holds his hand out to me while Rachel hugs Vox, and then they change positions.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Grey says. I think he’s aiming for a joke, but his brow is too furrowed for it to land just right.
“Oh man,” Vox jumps in without missing a beat.
“We just ran this sick line. Connor…uh, Coach Lang, I mean, raced me, and I almost had him. He totally got the jump on me, though, but he taught me how to anticipate a boarder’s moves, you know, like when they pass each other in NASCAR?
Anyway, it worked, so if someone gets in front of me on the cross course, I can totally head them off. ”
Grey smiles at Vox’s enthusiasm, but he turns a stern look on me.
“I’m glad you seem to have recovered enough to give Vox a run for his money, but he’s supposed to be on break. You know, resting?”
I really dislike the fact that Grey thinks he knows Vox better than I do. Athletes like us don’t take rest days.
“Tell him that,” I say evenly. Desperately wanting to add, I was perfectly content staying in bed with my face buried in his ass. He was the one who wanted first chair.
It’s next to impossible to choke back the other comment: if you’re so concerned about him resting, why did you cram his schedule so fucking full the last four days? But thankfully, I manage to keep that to myself.
Vox just smiles at Grey, and the older man folds. Shaking his head, he claps a hand on Vox’s shoulder. “Just make sure you’re at a hundred percent on race day, okay?”
“I’m always at a hundred percent.”
I can think of a time when that wasn’t true. I chew the inside of my cheek to hide my smile.
“Well, just wanted to say hello. Thought Rach and I would enjoy a nice cocktail while things are quiet. Enjoy your…uh, whatever this is,” Grey says, eyeing me curiously as he waits for an explanation.
Except I’ve got nothing.
“Victory beers,” Vox says. “We’re celebrating how far I’ve come since working with Connor.”
My foot slips off the rung of my barstool, and the grin that spreads across Vox’s face makes me want to drag him from this mountaintop and punish him until his ass is bright red.
“Connor, it was lovely to see you again. Vox, honey, don’t be a stranger,” Rachel says, bidding us both goodbye.
“Are you trying to get me fired?” I ask, turning back to face Vox.
“Of course not, but if I didn’t play into what this looks like, it would have made the fact that it’s exactly what it looks like way more obvious.”
Okay, he has a point.
“Well, drink fast. If Grey and Rachel are up here, we don’t need to be.”
“Where should we be instead?” he asks, settling back in his chair, clasping his hands in his lap, the picture of total relaxation.
Before I can answer, our server places our cold beers on the table in front of us, and I watch as Vox raises his glass to mine. Certain that he’s going to ‘cheers’ his snowboarding prowess, he stuns me to silence when he says, “To seeing you back on a board without fear.”
My hand is shaking as I clink my glass to his.
Instead of taking a sip right away, I watch as Vox brings his glass to his lips. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows once before sending me a wink as he tips the glass up, relaxing his throat and spilling the contents down his esophagus, expertly displaying his ability to shut down his gag reflex.
I drain my beer as well, flag our waiter down, and pay.
“Go say goodbye to Grey while I sign the bill,” I tell Vox.
“Don’t you want to say goodbye?” he asks.
“Not while I’m hard in these flimsy joggers,” I point out with a tight smile.
“Mmm,” Vox hums. “Why, Coach, is that for me?” Vox asks, placing a hand on his chest.
“It sure as hell isn’t for anyone else,” I tell him. “Now go say goodbye so we can get the hell out of here.”