Shredded - Wolff Tracy - Страница 2
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“Come on, let’s go get a table.”
“Why can’t we wait outside like we usually do?” She’s almost whining now, and any other time I’d give in to her. But not now. Not tonight.
Because if I can’t board, can’t smoke, and can’t fight, there’s only one option left. And we’ve already had one too-close-for-comfort call. “It’s cold out there, in case you haven’t noticed.”
She looks me up and down. “You’re wearing three thousand dollars in top-of-the-line snowboarding gear and you’re worried about a little cold?”
“A little cold? No.” I point toward the doors we just came through. In the last few minutes the wind has picked up even more and snow is flying in all directions. “But it is fucking cold out there. I was starting to worry about getting frostbite on my nuts.”
She rolls her eyes, makes a sound of disgust. “Nice, Z.”
“Hey, you asked,” I tell her as I shed my jacket. It might be approaching blizzard conditions outside, but inside the resort the heat is cranking full blast. It feels good after half a day on the mountain, but the last thing I want to do is start to sweat, not when we’ll be back out there in a matter of minutes. “Besides, your lips turned blue about an hour ago. I thought you’d appreciate the chance to thaw out.”
“Yeah, that’s why we’re in here,” she says, finally getting on board and making a beeline for the only available table in the coffee bar. “Because you’re worried about the condition of my lips.”
I ignore her as we weave through tangles of people and snow gear alike. The place is crowded, but that’s nothing new this time of year. Everyone from serious hobbyists to firsttimers and everything in between hits the Park City slopes once winter closes in, all hoping for a rip-roaring time. Of course, most of the tourists don’t know what the hell they’re doing—one of the many reasons I, like most of the locals, normally avoid the hotels here like the plague. It’s a lot easier to get hurt on a run when half the people out there with you don’t have a clue what they’re doing.
In fact, if I had my way, I’d be boarding the backcountry every day instead of just on weekends. But once Lost Canyon started paying Luc and Ash to ride here when they’re in town, I started coming with them instead of heading into the non-resortified areas. Because while I might spend my life doing crazy shit, even I’m not screwed up enough to go backcountry on my own. At least most of the time.
Cam slides into the booth, then looks at me expectantly. “I’d like a Power O,” she tells me. It’s the snowboarder special here at Lost Canyon, a specially mixed energy drink that slams you with a shot of pure adrenaline. It’s her favorite, but it’s never really done much for me. I prefer my adrenaline delivered straight up.
“I thought it was your turn to buy.”
She snorts, tries to look tough. “Dude, stop fronting. We both know why we’re in here.”
“Oh, yeah?” I ask, brow raised. “And why is that?”
She zeroes in on option number four and we both pretend there’s no hurt behind the snide look she gives me. “The blonde with the big boobs and don’t-fuck-with-me attitude currently taking orders behind the counter. You’ve been looking for her ever since you saw her on the slopes last week. I’m just surprised it’s taken you this long to make a move.”
To be honest, so am I. She caught my eye the first day she stumbled out to deliver a message to the magic carpet attendant in her tight jeans and way-too-light coat. I almost introduced myself to her then, but by the time I got to the top she was walking away.
She’s been skating around the edges of my mind ever since. So yesterday, when Ash mentioned there was a hot new blonde working the coffee stand at the top of the mountain, I put it together and filed the info away for future use.
It looks like the future’s tonight. I figure I’ll head over and chat her up while Cam and I are waiting for the others. Find out her name. And see how long it takes to convince her to take a break so I can get her up against the nearest dressing room wall.
It’ll solve two problems for me—get rid of some of this itchiness that just won’t go away and make sure Cam understands just how little that near-miss out there means to me.
When I don’t immediately respond to her taunts, Cam narrows her eyes at me. “What? Are you afraid you’ve lost your touch or something?”
It’s my turn to snort. “Like that’s ever happened.”
“I don’t know. There’s a first for everything.”
“Not that,” I tell her firmly.
“Well, then, go get my drink.” Her phone beeps and she glances down, reads the text. “And get one for Luc and Ash, too. They’ll be here in about ten minutes.”
“Small or large?”
She looks at me pointedly. “You sure that’s a question you want to be batting around right now? You were the one concerned about frostbite, after all.”
I flip her off, and she returns the gesture as I walk away. I’m not paying attention anymore, though.
Instead, all my attention is focused on the girl working the register. She’s talking to a customer—an older man clutching a cup of coffee in each hand—and grinning at whatever he’s telling her. She’s got a great smile and I can’t help wondering why I didn’t notice that the other night. It’s not as great as her body, which is smoking hot, but it’s still pretty awesome.
And so are her eyes, which are an intense shade of green. They’re kind of wide and sexy, especially when she glances at something out of the corner of them, like she’s done a bunch of times in the last few minutes. She’s got a good mouth, too, and for a second I’m so wrapped up in thinking about what it’d feel like wrapped around my cock that I don’t even notice when Lila darts straight into my path.
She grabs on to me, wraps her arms around my waist, and presses her firm, sweet body up against mine. I try to move past her, but she’s got a good grip and she’s not letting go. Short of shaking her off—which is a dick move, even for me—there’s not much to do but grin and bear it.
“Hey, Z!” Her voice is breathier than normal and she’s batting her eyelashes so hard I’m afraid she’s going to pop out one of her colored contacts. “You’re looking good tonight.”
“Thanks. So are you.” I reach around, slowly untangle myself from her octopus grip. But she just grabs on to my hands with both of hers.
“You think so?”
Not really. “Yeah, of course.” I look her over, try for something nice to say. “That sweater looks good on you.”
She preens and again I start to move past her, but she won’t let go of my right hand. Instead, she runs her fingertips over my knuckles before prying my fingers out from the fist I’ve unwittingly made. Then she looks at my palm. “Ooh, you have a really deep love line,” she tells me as she strokes one long pink nail along the chained crease. “Do you know what that means?”
“Haven’t got a clue.” My tone implies that I don’t care, either, but she’s not listening. She’s too into the big seduction she’s mapped out in her head, and I rock back on my heels, resigned to the worst she has to offer. Nothing short of a five-man extraction team is getting me out of this before Lila’s ready to let go.
She moves even closer, so close that her mouth is pressed against my ear and her tits are resting against my arm when she whispers, “It means that you are very good in bed.”
Call me crazy, but— “I didn’t think you’d need to read my palm to know that.”
She giggles again, and to me it’s like nails scraping against a chalkboard. “I don’t, silly. I remember every minute of our night together.”
Interesting, since I don’t remember any of it and I wasn’t even drunk. Or at least I don’t think I was. All of the parties—and the girls—are starting to blur together.
Again, I don’t say what I’m thinking. Instead I work on prying her hand off mine. I finally manage to escape, but I only get a few steps away before she throws herself in my path once more.
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