Chapter Five
Luke
Luke didn’t get much sleep after his talk with Dad, despite being flat wiped out. Still, his dad had taken the news surprisingly well.
“My health scare showed me that if you want to do something, you shouldn’t wait around,” he’d said. “But…let’s keep all this as our secret until after Christmas. Then we’ll figure out how to break it to your mother.”
Dad’s plan was good, but the secret would burn a hole in Luke’s chest. He didn’t like hiding things—he was a straight-talking guy and hoped the people around him would tell it like it was, too.
Now, he stood outside the little café at the resort, staring through its fogged windows. The server from yesterday was working. From the looks of things, they were really busy again, but Luke could use a little fun this morning. Maybe she’d even deign to talk to him.
Smiling, he went to the door, pausing as a group of guys headed out of the café.
“What’s up, bro,” one said in passing.
Luke jerked his chin in a hello to be polite, but didn’t answer. These guys looked like they belonged in a cutthroat hedge fund office, not at Snowmass. One even had slicked back hair, of all things. Poseurs.
He turned to walk in and was almost mowed down by Charlotte. Her face was flushed bright red, and her hair was falling out of its ponytail as she ran out of the café. Shit, had he pissed her off just by showing up?
“Stop right there!” she yelled at the guys who’d just passed. “You will pay this bill, or I’m calling the cops!”
They all laughed and broke into a run, Charlotte huffing after them.
Anger sparked in Luke’s chest. What kind of asshole dined and ditched in Aspen? No way was he letting this go down. He took off, streaking past Charlotte and catching the slowest guy. Luke tackled him, sending him sprawling into the snow. The guy came up spluttering and took a swing at Luke, who dodged the flailing fist with ease.
Definitely a poseur.
“I believe you owe the lady payment for a meal,” Luke growled.
“Fuck you!” The guy spit at Luke.
Mistake.
Luke shoved the dude’s head into the snowbank. “Cool down, asshole.”
“Watch out!” Charlotte screamed.
Luke, seeing a shadow of a guy reflected in the snow, ducked instinctively. The fist still caught the top of his head, and Luke saw sparks. Pissed, he kneed the downed guy in the gut to keep him on his back and jumped up. Five guys stood right in front of him, all of them angry.
Luke loosened his stance and clenched his fists. “Pay your bill, and we’re done.”
“And apologize for the creepy frat-boy boob graze.” Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest.
Heat crept up the back of Luke’s neck. “What did you say?”
“That asshole”—Charlotte pointed at one of the guys—“felt me up while I was serving him breakfast.”
Luke growled, feeling out of control and dangerous. He liked a girl with fight, but he’d finish this one for her. “So, we going to do this, or are you going to cough up…” He looked at Charlotte. “How much?”
She waved a piece of paper. “Eighty-two dollars.”
He turned back to the guys. “A hundred bucks. Eighty-two for your meal, and a tip for your server.”
“There’s five of us and one of you. How’s that math work?” the ringleader asked.
Luke stared him down. “He’s the one who groped you, right?”
“Yes.”
Luke nodded, then sucker punched the guy in the jaw. The impact sent pain through his knuckles and up his arm, and the guy went down hard. Shaking out his hand, Luke sighed. “Where’s the hundred bucks? Only douchebags run out on a tab.”
Two of the four guys still standing pulled out their wallets and peeled twenties from stacks of cash. One of them shoved it into Luke’s hand, trying to act tough. “Better watch out on the mountain.”
Luke snorted. What a joke. “Noted.”
He stood there, watching as they pulled up their buddies. The group walked off, glowering and muttering that they’d “see that place shut down.” And something about “mouthy waitresses.”
Luke waited until they were out of sight, then handed Charlotte the wad of cash. “Sorry about that. I’ve lived in Aspen my whole life, and we see a lot of jackass weekenders like that. Best just to own them on the mountain and send them home.”
Charlotte started walking back to the café. Her cheeks were still pink. “I don’t even ski, so…I’ll stick to avoiding them when I can.”
“You work at a ski resort and you don’t ski?” Luke followed after her, admiring the view. She was built like a goddess. Not that he was ogling.
Much.
Charlotte huffed a breath. “I have to work too much to take the time. Are you coming in? There’s room at the bar.”
He took the seat she pointed at and smiled when she brought him the coffeepot. She set a mug in front of him, along with a baggie of ice. “Coffee’s on the house, and the ice is for your knuckles. Thanks for helping me with those guys.”
“My pleasure.” He toasted her with the mug. “I hate shit like that.”
She nodded, rubbing at her eyes. They had dark circles under them.
“You okay?” he asked.
“What? Oh, just tired. I, um, didn’t sleep well last night, and four a.m. comes early.” She gave him a fake smile. “What’ll you have?”
This would be the point he’d usually ask the girl in question out, but after Charlotte’s experience with the frat boys from hell, he decided to play it straight…for now. “Eggs and bacon and a side of fruit.”
“Protein and fruit. Got it.” She scratched it down on an order pad. “I’ll have it out in a bit.”
He watched her walk away, her hips swaying, and held back an appreciative sigh. Goddess, definitely.
Luke shook his head. No sense in getting caught up in the chase right now. He had stuff to do, and today was going to be busy.
He pulled out his phone to check the schedule he’d made. His trainer wanted him to take a few runs on some trails, then head to the SBX practice course at three thirty. Luke would get a good, close look at his competition then, too. Snowmass’s SBX practice course was rumored to be close to Buttermilk’s, so the best SBXers had descended on his home turf to work out.
Winning those regional races out of Colorado and New Mexico had been key. He’d managed to jump into the top thirty ranking. A top-two finish here would give him a spot at nationals. If he did well enough there, started the World Cup tour, and maintained his ranking, making the Olympics next year would be in his grasp.
Okay, so today, hit the course and work out with Michael. Tomorrow, meet Michael at the gym to train. Weights, then cardio, then a massage. Then it all starts over again. He only had a few weeks to get ready. If he blew it at the qualifier, he’d dropped out of school for nothing.
His heart skipped a few beats. God, what would Mom say then?
“Hello? Luke?”
His head popped up to find Charlotte holding a tray with his breakfast on it. By the way she was trying not to smile, she’d probably been calling his name for a while.
“Oh, thanks.” He set his phone on the counter, his plans for the day disappearing the second he was caught by her gaze. “Hey, what time do you get off today?”
She raised an eyebrow, and he laughed. “Off work.”
“Ah.” She shrugged. “Two thirty, usually. Sometimes three. Why?”
Thinking fast, he said, “You said you didn’t ski. That makes you a perfect student to learn to snowboard—no habits to break. How about I pick you up around four and give you a lesson?”
Charlotte flushed and wrapped her arms around her waist. It made her shirt tighten across her breasts, and Luke couldn’t help taking a look. They were goddamned magnificent. When his eyes flicked back up to hers, she pursed her mouth in annoyance. “I’ve had enough of being ogled today, thank you.”
Luke winced. “Uh…sorry. I—shit, sorry. Um, yeah. How about that snowboard lesson? I have gear you can borrow, and I swear I’ll keep my eyes in the right place.”
Mostly.
She frowned—not a good sign. “Look, I really appreciate your help today, and you seem like a decent guy…”
He fought to keep his expression neutral. Decent? Decent? My brother is decent.
Luke wasn’t anything of the sort.
“…but I’m really busy, and I’m usually exhausted after work,” Charlotte went on. “Snowboarding sounds tough after standing on my feet for eight-plus hours.”
Luke gave her a dose of his lazy smile, the one that usually launched a dozen girls his direction. Charlotte flushed again, and he leaned on the counter, flexing his arms so they strained at his T-shirt, smirking when she took a look. “When’s your next day off, then?”
Her mouth dropped open slightly. “I…I’m going home Christmas Eve. Not until then.”
“But if you had time off, would you go out with me?”
Charlotte’s expression warred between annoyance and interest. Finally, she said, “Maybe.”
He reached out to touch her hand, grinning inwardly when she didn’t flinch away. “I’ll keep trying, then. Thanks for the coffee.”
She nodded, then turned to go to the kitchen. He watched her, waiting.
“Look back,” he whispered.
And she did.
Luke’s pulse leaped. He had her.