With my face feeling like it's covered in dried-out cake frosting, I grab hold of the snowboard and step into the photo shoot area. Mia joins me minutes later with a fresh coat of makeup on her face. Not like she needed it.

“Give me a minute to set up your shot.” The photographer moves between the camera and the lights, talking with his assistant.

The two of us stand there with the green screen behind us, looking anywhere but at each other.

“You training later?” I ask, hoping to fill the void of awkward silence that’s developed between us.

She glances at me and then the ground. “No, the halfpipe has been a killer to get on at night. Not worth it to wait forever for only one run.”

That was the wrong question to ask since I've been boarding down my own halfpipe Gasoline Energy Drinks built for me the past few days. Now I'm going to seem like a dick if I don't invite her. Not that I think she’d take me up on the offer. She's stubborn, but she'd be an idiot not to at least use me for that.

“I saw your buddy the other day,” she says.

“Who? Dax?”

She shakes her head, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Well, I guess I'm using the word buddy loosely.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Peterson. He's really trying to nail that trick he's calling Peterson’s Bag of Nuts.”

Mia's not the first to fill me in on Peterson's endeavor to complete a new trick in order to win gold. If I said I wasn't scared of standing to his right on a platform at the Winter Classics, I'd be lying.

Mark my words, he'll never be invited to my halfpipe.

“Well, I wish him luck.”

I check the photographer's progress with the hopes he'll be ready to click his camera so we can get on with this and I get back to my halfpipe and out of my head.

“No, you don't.” She laughs. “Come on. He's your biggest competition and he's half your age.”

I sit down on the stoop that’s there for us to put our leg up. “Watch it with the age. I just turned twenty-six.”

She laughs again, a sweet sing-song type of laugh that sends a rush of exhilaration through my veins. “That just about makes you a dinosaur in this world. Peterson's a child, but he's got just enough guts to pull off that trick and you know it.”

I shrug. Does she really expect me to admit it?

“I have guts, too.”

Her eyes widen and she sits down in front of me. “Yeah you do, but he's got the whole teenage ‘I’m invincible’ belief that we don't have anymore.”

I nod. She's got a point.

“I'm the reigning champ. I'm not worried about some newbie that’ll probably choke when his big moment arrives.” The lie comes out convincingly enough.

“Ready guys,” the photographer announces.

Thank God.

Mia gets up on her hands and knees, crawling my way and then slowly rises up to her feet. “You as confident in that bet as the other one?” Her eyes dip between my legs.

“I'd take that bet every day and twice on Sunday.”

“Guess we’ll find out who's the best in front of millions of people.” She rests her arm on her board and her finger pats her lips. “How’s your shoulder?”

I stand and the photographer’s assistant takes Mia’s board from her momentarily.

“Is that concern I detect in your tone?” Could it be that Mia doesn’t hate me as much as I thought?

She laughs but this time it holds an evil edge. “No, I just want to make sure you don't drop me when I'm on your back.”

She nods towards the photographer’s set-up.

“So, Grady you stand in front of the stool, Mia you step up and onto Grady's back,” the photographer says. “I want huge smiles, and Mia, make sure you do your signature hang ten sign.”

Mia shoots me smug look and I get myself into position. She hops onto my back, her weight barely registering, but when I have her legs hooked in my arms, the smell of honey that can only be her, has my dick waking up in my pants.

The assistant hands Mia her board and she positions it in front of us.

“Why don't you head over to my halfpipe with me tomorrow?”

“Nooo...” She draws out in a breathy whisper in my ear.

“All right, if you don't want to join, cool.”

Her legs tighten around my waist and the photographer’s assistant rushes toward us with some contraption he’s using to measure the light or something. I mean I can hold Mia until the cows come home, but neither of these two seem like they’re in any particular hurry to get this over with.

“I didn't say that,” she snaps.

“If you're waiting for me to beg you, it's not going to happen.” I adjust her body and get her higher up my back.

“I still don't like you.”

“Noted. See you at seven am tomorrow?”

“Fine.”

“Okay, big smiles now, you guys. Pretend you just won gold.” The photographer positions himself behind the camera and begins clicking away.

Mia moves the snowboard in her hands around in a few different positions. “Oh, and don't worry, I’ll try not to show you up out there tomorrow.”

“Please, you'll be thanking me once I teach you a new thing or two.”

She laughs.

I smile at her cockiness, realizing that I miss the banter between us.

The shutter of the camera clicks away as we smile on.

“Perfect,” the photographer says. “The camera loves you two together. You look like you belong together.”

Clearly the old saying, “The camera doesn’t lie” is completely bogus.