CHAPTER TWO ALARA #2
There is not a single soul in this town who doesn’t know or remember who Diego is. He’s a star around here. He’s worshiped, loved, admired. Being an Olympic champion doesn’t go unnoticed. Everyone knows he’s a snowboarding prodigy, and everyone knows about his recent injury.
“Diego is going to be home for the next couple of months, and he’s looking for a job,” Gaby informs me. “And maybe he could work here with you guys?”
Unable to hide my puzzlement, I lift my brows, and my gaze clashes with Diego’s again.
That’s why he’s here? The last time I saw him – truly saw and spoke to him – was ages ago.
He barely comes back for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and, when he does, he doesn’t make himself known or seen.
Suddenly, he’s back home for more than a week? Months, even?
Shouldn’t he be focusing on his recovery?
And why is he asking around for a job? As a sales assistant? At Rock Snow?
Honestly, I want to laugh.
This is a joke, right?
I’m only hallucinating because I haven’t had any coffee yet. Right?
“Really?” I manage to ask, through the turmoil fogging my mind. “We could definitely use some help around here.”
“That’s what I was saying,” Dad chimes in, grinning like this is the best news he’s gotten in a while. With his constant smiles, the lines around his eyes have deepened. “I’m more than happy to help you out, man.”
Diego all but nods again.
As I piece everything together – Dad being close to Wyatt and Diego being unable to compete because of his injury – I pin my father with a suspicious look. Does he know something I don’t?
Jordan, on the other hand, seems genuinely surprised and excited to have one of his best friends back. He’s already talking Diego’s ear off with his plans, like having poker night every Saturday night at his apartment.
Dad turns to me, his smile unfaltering. “He has also signed up at the lodge to help you with lessons.”
What is he doing?
A rapid glance in Diego’s direction tells me he doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to do this, yet he nods at my father’s words. There’s a certain reverence in the way he looks at my dad, a kind of respect I can’t seem to fathom just yet.
“You’re giving skiing lessons again?” Jordan asks. I don’t blame him for not remembering, even though I told him over dinner last night. He’s too focused, too deep in his own business to acknowledge the people around him.
“I start on Monday.”
Since I secured my Level 1 training back in high school, I’ve been giving lessons to beginners and children when I can.
When I was in college, I used to teach class during breaks.
Now, I can do it part-time. Besides, the paychecks and tips will tide me over just enough until I figure out what to do with myself, especially since I’ve decided not to rely on my parents financially.
Jordan grins. “Good for you.”
I turn to Diego and, again, his eyes are on me. I try my hardest not to give way to my timidity or the way his presence makes me feel – nervous and hot and bothered. I take a small breath, smiling softly. “That’s cool. You’re welcome to help me. Managing a group of kids can be tough.”
The resort actually called me yesterday evening, asking if I was okay with having an assistant. From what it looks like, everything has been planned out, and they have already assigned Diego to be my partner.
What is going on?
Not that I’m complaining, though. I just find it strange that he’s back. That he needs a job. For the next three months.
“Sure,” he says gruffly, looking away.
“Oh, he talks.”
The words have slipped out before I could think. I realize I’m annoyed by his lack of interest, his silence. I don’t understand why he is standing there when it’s painfully obvious that he wants to be anywhere but here. And I’m not talking about Rock Snow.
His brows knit together. “Excuse me?”
I shrug, irritated by him. He doesn’t say hi, he doesn’t break a damn smile, and he has the audacity to be offended when I fire back at him? He might be my best friend’s brother, but he’s not royalty to me.
“You heard me.” I don’t usually act on my annoyance, but that slip of the tongue was out of my control.
“Oh, shit,” Jordan chuckles. “Did you forget to drink your coffee this morning?”
“I was running late,” I mumble.
“Diego’s just shy,” Gaby quips. “Don’t take it personally if he doesn’t say much.”
“I’m not shy,” Diego retorts tersely.
If he could let that mask slip for a split second to show me what he’s feeling, I’d perhaps feel more inclined to help. I don’t like the idea of working with him – both at the lodge and Rock Snow.
“Did your doctor tell you how long he’s expecting for a full recovery?” Jordan asks.
“Weeks.” Diego gives Jordan a weighted glance, indicating he doesn’t want to elaborate right now.
My brother, as clueless as ever, winces and gasps. “But . . . the X Games. You’ll be able to ride, right?”
Diego shakes his head and sighs.
At the realization that he’s undoubtedly frustrated to be injured instead of training for the upcoming X Games, sympathy crashes over me and douses the small flames of irritation.
I take a calming breath, realizing I shouldn’t be rude.
He doesn’t deserve my misplaced bitterness, so I brace myself to give him an apology.
Jordan’s phone rings just then, cutting the thick, heavy silence. He squeezes Diego’s shoulder, while digging into his pocket to grab the device. “It’s great having you back, man. You wanna grab a beer sometime soon?”
“Sure.”
God, he’s infuriating with those short replies.
If he’s so damn displeased being here, why doesn’t he say so? Why doesn’t he tell my dad or Gaby or Jordan he’s not interested in the jobs that have been lined up?
“It’s really good to see you, Diego,” my dad says, when Jordan heads off, talking on his phone. Gaby is wandering around the store, trying on a pink vest. And me? I stand there, motionless, dumbfounded.
Diego’s throat works up and down as he swallows. His shoulders drop. “Thanks, Joe.”
My dad claps Diego’s shoulder, albeit with delicacy, mindful of his injuries. “Too bad you’re not back permanently. But you know you’re always welcome here, right? It’s your home, after all. Nothing has changed.”
“Yeah.” Diego clears his throat, scratching the back of his head.
“Alright.” There’s a silent conversation flying between the two men as they hold eye contact for a moment. “Let me show you around. When do you want to start? Alara will train you.”
At the mention of my name, Diego looks back at me, as if he suddenly remembers I’m standing there.
The way his eyes fall upon me makes heat creep up my cheeks, but I keep my chin high, nodding enthusiastically to show how happy I am to have a new coworker.
Truth is, I don’t know how to handle my emotions and nerves.
It’s not a big deal.
We’re both adults now.
I’m going to forget about the crush.
What’s the worst that could happen now that we’ll constantly be around each other?
“Any time that works for you both.”
Dad smiles at the response. “Tomorrow? Can you be here for opening? We open at ten; it’s mostly slow at that time of the day. Won’t be a long shift.”
“Okay.”
“That good for you?” Dad asks me next.
With a small smile, I nod my agreement – hoping it’s enough as an apology for now. “That works for me.”
Diego listens intently to my dad explaining all the tasks he’ll have to do around the place, and I’m just standing there staring at him. I wish I could find a sliver of strength to look away, though.
There’s something different about him, and I’m not sure what it is that makes him so cold and unapproachable now.
As he wanders that dark gaze of his around for the millionth time, it connects to mine. Intense. Unrelenting. He’s the first one to break contact, his jaw ticcing, but he quickly looks back at me before sauntering after my dad, who tells him to follow.
His arm brushes my shoulder and, at that moment, I’m thankful for the thick sweater concealing the chills arising on my skin.
His cologne is annoyingly intoxicating as he passes. Then, he bends to pick up the gloves laying at my feet, his murmur akin to a cool, chilling breeze caressing my ear when he towers over me again. “Looking forward to working with you.”
I swear the corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s fighting his own smile. I swear I can hear my own breath hitch as I realize how minuscule the distance between us is. I swear my head is spinning and I’m desperate for some fresh air.
And coffee.
Snatching the items, I smile sweetly. His sardonic tone makes me want to mess with him. “I can see that you’re excited. I promise we’ll have fun.”
For what feels like an eternity, he studies my face, the intensity of his scrutiny leaving a residue of sparks trailing down my spine. “Can’t wait.”