Chapter Four
Austin came home to a hungry dog and a sore knee—and, surprisingly, not a single message. He tried to focus on dinner, the next day’s practice, what he was going to do to get Amelia’s spark back. But getting Sam out of his mind was easier said than done. He kept returning to the sweep of her hair and the way her brown eyes crinkled when she smiled, like it wasn’t just a gesture her face did but something she actually meant.
He wasn’t sure if she was staying overnight, but as he stood under the shower, he kicked himself for not finding out. He didn’t have to go planning their breakup in his head when they hadn’t even gotten together. When are you going back to Seattle? Are you seeing anyone? Would you like to have dinner tonight? A million questions, none of them hard. He should have just picked one and asked.
He shut the water off. He knew better than anyone that there was no use rehashing the past. But he hadn’t gotten in any more skiing after practice and he was restless—too wired with thoughts of Sam’s lithe body to settle down for the night. He started in on a round of stretches his friend Claire, a massage therapist, had shown him to help with his knee. He blamed her for all this thinking. She was the first one to point out that his string of failed romances had one common denominator—him. But was that going to keep him from ever trying anything when a beautiful woman came his way?
Austin opened the fridge, closed it, and grabbed the keys to his truck. He had to get out of the house. Otherwise he might find himself calling Steven Park just to give himself something to do.
Chloe’s ears perked up from her bed. “Oh, live a little,” he admonished the dog. “It’s Tuesday! Why can’t we have any fun?”
Chloe seemed to think for a minute, then nudged her nose back down to rest.
“Fine,” Austin said. “You stay home and keep the Kanes away. But don’t wait up, okay?”
Chloe’s ear flicked. She was already asleep.
Tuesdays meant two-for-one beers at the Dipper, the local watering hole everyone called Mack Daddy’s after the bartender, Mackenzie Ellinsworth. The name enraged the chef, Connor Branding, who claimed he was the reason anyone showed up at the Dipper at all. But even though Connor was Austin’s best friend, Mack had worked there longer, and Austin couldn’t help thinking of the joint as hers.
The parking lot was mostly empty, but that was to be expected on a weeknight, just a few trucks built for snow and then, inexplicably, a silver Audi that was going to be unhappy if it stuck around once the storm started up. Austin had been right—the day’s blue sky had turned to clouds as the sun set. Now the darkness was deepening, and he could feel the damp promise of snow in the air. If it kept up through the night, tomorrow’s tracks were going to be good.
He lingered in the parking lot, watching the first flakes begin to settle, before kicking the slush and salt off his boots and stepping inside. As usual Mack was behind the bar. She waved as he walked in.
“Long time no see!” she called, and Austin laughed. He’d been there last night, playing poker with Connor after closing.
“What’ll it be?” she asked, grabbing a glass.
“You still have the Black Raven?”
Austin stood at the bar, and Mack poured the ale. He was taking his first sip when he felt a nudge on his arm.
He nearly spit his drink all over the bar. What was she doing here?
Sam had showered and changed from the afternoon, her hair no longer tousled by the helmet but smoothed in a sideways part and pulled back. She was wearing jeans and a sweater, so he could see what her ski pants had only hinted at. “Cute” didn’t seem like the right word—she had a way of carrying herself that was too self-assured for that. Beautiful felt like a cliché. What actually ran through his mind was fucking hot, but that made him sound like a caveman, so he tried to tame it down.
Still, that was all he could think of. Fucking hot.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she said with a wink.
“I had no idea you were sticking around. Did you get some work done?”
“A little. I was supposed to have some meetings, but I was able to push everything back.”
“You two know each other?” Mack asked, refilling Sam’s glass.
“Um—”
Austin started to speak as Sam said, “We met this afternoon.”
Austin flashed Mack a look that he hoped said keep your big mouth shut. “Where are you staying?” he asked Sam.
“Up at the Cascade,” she said.
Austin and Mack exchanged glances. The Cascade was the one fancy hotel on the mountain, so expensive only the wealthiest Seattleites stayed there. Usually they never left to venture into the cluster of businesses and shops that made up the actual town. They definitely never came into Mack’s.
“I know,” Sam said, as though she could read their look. “The place is ridiculous. Someone needs to break it to them that the seventies ended a few years back. That wallpaper is a crime.”
“They’ve got a nice bar, though,” Mack said, and Austin could hear the envy in her voice. Mack wanted a real bar. Not the three rotating kegs and tub of well drinks at the Dipper, but a place where she could make infused syrups and herbal concoctions and have full control over which eighteen kinds of local gin to buy.
“I popped my head in and it looked decent,” Sam said, “but even the guy at the front desk told me to come here instead.”
Mack’s eyebrows rocketed up. She never failed to show what she was thinking. “I’m shocked they acknowledged anything outside the hotel.”
“Me, too,” Sam said. “But I said I wanted to see what the area was like, and this was where they sent me. Looks like it must be where everybody hangs out, if I ran into this one again.” She raised her glass toward Austin.
“You had a one in three chance of getting it right,” Mack said. “The mountain, the gym in his freaky basement, or here.”
“Sounds like a wild kind of guy.”
Mack laughed. “You have no idea.”
“Hey,” Austin interjected. “I’m standing right here.”
“Maybe you should grab a seat, then.” Mack gestured toward the tables.
“And leave you alone at the bar?” Austin teased.
“I’m not alone, I have Connor back there being an asshole.”
“Who’s Connor?” Sam asked.
“My best friend,” Austin said, at the same time Mack grumbled, “The worst ever.” They stared at each other for a beat and burst out laughing.
A voice called out from the back, “Not to mention maker of the best beet burger you’ve never had!”
Sam stared at them both. “He heard what you said?”
“Trust me,” Mack said, wiping her eyes. “He’s heard worse.”
Connor popped out of the door between the bar and the kitchen. “Don’t listen to a word she says,” he said, nodding toward Mack. “She doesn’t even know how good a beet burger can be.”
“I hate beets!” Mack roared so loudly the other patrons dotting the restaurant turned and stared. She glared at Connor. “Get back in your kitchen hole.”
“And get me a flesh burger,” Austin called before his friend could disappear again. He turned to Sam. “They have an actual menu—I swear you don’t have to shout your order.”
Sam slapped her hand on the bar. “I want the beet burger.”
Connor grinned. “It’s not an official item, but you’re going to be a very happy guinea pig.”
“Go, get out of here,” Mack said to Sam as though it pained her. “Enjoy your last minutes before your dirt meal.”
Sam grabbed her beer and walked away, then stopped and turned. “Coming?”
Austin hadn’t realized what she’d meant. He always sat at the bar, chatting with Mack, calling to Connor when he was busy in the kitchen.
But who was he to turn down Sam’s invitation? She was beautiful, sharp, fun, and hadn’t seemed fazed by his friends. Who else could he say that about? He followed her to where she’d been sitting before he walked in. She had a laptop on the table and a stack of papers, but she quickly swept everything away.
“You sure I’m not interrupting?”
“I don’t want to be doing this anyway.” She gestured for him to sit.
“What are you working on?” he asked, but she had her phone out and was sending a message.
“Just some sales stuff,” she said, not looking up from her phone. “Totally boring.” She put the phone down. “Sorry. So it seems like you come here a lot?”
They talked about the bar, the mountain, the area, Austin’s friends. “You work in sales?” he asked when he felt he’d gone on long enough.
“Real estate, actually. But it’s nothing that can’t wait.”
Austin could tell she didn’t want to talk about it. But could he blame her? A chance to get out of the office and have an excuse not to work through dinner, and here he was trying to ask her more about it. He switched tracks.
“So how often do you usually get to hit the snow?”
She shook her head sheepishly, smoothing a lock of hair that had dropped from where it was pulled back. “Not often enough. I used to go a few times a year, which probably doesn’t sound like much to you but felt like a lot to me.”
“What changed?”
“Oh.” Her eyes fluttered up from her beer to him. He could see her searching his face. “I used to go with my father.”
“Really?” Austin tried to picture a father who skied—who did things with his kid at all. He knew that kind of thing existed. Of course it did. But you didn’t meet too many people who got that wistful pang in their eye when they talked about their parents. He felt a sudden throb in his knee and massaged it under the table, pressing his thumb to the tender spot that acted up whenever the weather changed. But he knew not to show the pain on his face.
“He was the only one I ever skied with, actually. I have it so permanently associated with him in my mind that it was hard when I—that I didn’t do a lot of—” She looked away.
“I’m sorry,” Austin said. “It sounds like a tremendous loss.”
Sam nodded. She looked saddened by what he’d just said, but also—he hoped—relieved not to have to say the words.
“How long ago?” he asked softy.
“Three years today, but sometimes it still feels like yesterday.”
He raised his glass. “I’m glad you came.”
She clinked his glass with hers and took a sip. “I’m glad I came, too.” She smiled. “Are your parents skiers? I bet you were on skis since before you could walk.”
“Actually, it was an uncle who got me started. He used to swing by to get me out of the house. And since we lived in Colorado, I guess he decided to stick me on skis.”
“And then you raced? Professionally? I mean, before you started to coach.”
Maybe it was the beer, or the intensity in her eyes, or the fact that she’d been open about her father and her grief, that led him to tell her what he so rarely talked about. It had taken him ages to work up to admitting it to Connor when they first met. If Mack knew, it was only because someone else had told her. But he could be honest with Sam without telling her the whole story.
“I was expected to medal at the Salt Lake City Olympics,” he admitted.
Sam’s jaw literally dropped.
“And then what?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t medal.”
“Shit happens.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Did you finish the runs?”
“I didn’t even start. Injured two weeks before.”
“You’re kidding.”
Austin raised his glass. “To bad timing. And even worse knees.”
“Wow,” Sam said. And then again, “Wow.”
He liked her reaction. No pity, no comfort. Just the facts.
“I wasn’t sure I’d ever ski again,” he went on. “But moving here, it’s the perfect place for me. It’s away from the major training circuits in the Rockies, but I still get talented kids from Gold Mountain. After everything that happened I wanted to be out of the spotlight, you know?”
“Of course. You do what you love.” She smiled. “My dad was so driven, so good at everything he did, it was nice he had a hobby. Something he did because he enjoyed it, not because he had to or because he expected anything in return. I’m not sure I can imagine skiing every day, though.”
“It becomes part of your schedule. Like someone else might go for a run or, I don’t know, knit a sweater.”
Sam laughed at the analogy. “We used to go during my school vacations. Sometimes I resented it because I wanted to be with my friends, but as an adult it felt special, getting to spend all that time with my dad.”
No matter how hard Austin tried to picture what she was telling him, he couldn’t. Parents who went on vacation? Together? All the yelling in his house was bad enough—he couldn’t imagine it in a hotel room.
He drained his beer. Better to keep the focus on her. “Did you come here a lot?”
“Some, if he wanted to pop up for a weekend or even a day trip if the weather was good. But he loved the big places—Taos, Vail, Park City.”
Austin had already guessed her family had money to burn. “This must have seemed like such a podunk place to him,” he said with a laugh, trying to hide his discomfort.
He was surprised when Sam shook her head. “He loved the mountain, the proximity to Seattle, how beautiful it is up here. He always talked about the potential in this area.”
Austin could feel his face darkening. “That’s what the developers keep talking about. Those fucking Kanes are going to gut this place, all in the name of ‘potential.’”
He saw Sam stiffen. On second thought, maybe he shouldn’t have cursed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m a little bitter.”
“Why?” she asked with a frown.
“Long story short, I own some land that I got for cheap when I moved here. Nothing huge,” he added, lest she get the wrong idea. “But Kane Enterprises wants to buy a chunk of it to turn into condos. Let’s just say ‘over my dead body’ isn’t an exaggeration.”
“They must be offering a good buyout, though,” Sam countered. “I mean, I’m sure the people at the company aren’t unreasonable. There’s nothing that could change your mind?”
She cocked her head at him expectantly, but Austin shook his head. “I’m not for sale.”
Sam was about to respond when her phone buzzed. She pulled it off the table and angled it down as she scrolled through the message. Austin was reminded of how the girls sat with their phones in their laps when they watched videos of their races, as though no one would notice when they weren’t paying attention. He thought about his indecision in the lodge, how if it wasn’t for her showing up tonight he would have let her get away. He leaned across the table.
“Is that your boyfriend?” he asked.
“What?” Sam looked up.
Austin nodded toward the phone. “Just wondering who the lucky guy is who’s got your attention tonight.”
She made a face. “You should know I’m in a long-term relationship with my job. But don’t worry. We’re not monogamous.”
She made a show of darkening the screen and sliding it into her bag behind her. “Out of sight, out of mind.”
So no boyfriend, and intentions that couldn’t be clearer. The look she gave him, a half smile, her head tilted so he could see the soft side of her neck, the arc of her jaw, her hair spilling over her shoulder—Austin felt himself growing hard right there under the table. He leaned closer. “I don’t want to make anyone jealous.”
“Are we really having the monogamy talk before you’ve even—”
Fucked me, he thought she was going to say. He hoped she was going to say. His dick strained up, expecting her to say it.
But there was a clatter from the kitchen as the door opened and Mack restarted her usual diatribe against Connor. Sam pressed her lips together, not finishing the thought. But under the table he felt the pressure of her leg slide against his, making sure he knew what she’d meant.
And he definitely did. Everything—everything—in him stiffened at her touch. He shifted in the seat as Connor came over with their plates.
“Two burgers at your service,” he said. “One extra delicious”—he pointed to Sam’s—“and one my usual mediocrity.”
“And yet your mediocrity is still the best thing going in this town,” Austin commented. For the first time, he hoped Connor wouldn’t join him, because he couldn’t ignore the bulge in his pants or the curve of the lips of the woman before him. But Connor seemed to get the hint.
“Bon appétit.” He flashed Austin a quick grin before ducking away.
“Please come back even if it’s bad,” Mack called to Sam from the bar. Connor flipped her off before retreating into the kitchen.
Austin looked at Sam as she surveyed her plate. “You didn’t have to do that just to be nice,” he said.
“You know, you’re the second person today who’s called me that,” Sam said. “And the second to ask if I have a boyfriend.”
Austin stopped spreading mustard midsmear. “Do I have competition?”
She laughed. “It was just Amelia being nosy.”
Austin narrowed his eyes. “And what did you tell her?”
“To quit pointing out how hot you are. I have eyes myself.”
She grinned and dived into her burger before Austin could manage a response. When she finished chewing, her eyes were wide.
“That,” she said, pointing to her plate, “is dynamite. Taste this.”
“You’re not trying to poison me, are you?”
Sam brushed his leg again under the table. “One thing you should know about me,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t fuck around.”
She held his eyes for so long it was almost disconcerting. He’d never want to cross this woman. He pictured her making deals, some nebulous, confusing thing she did for a living with that phone practically glued to her hands. She was obviously someone who got what she wanted, whatever it was.
He hoped for tonight that would be him.
He reached for her burger and took a bite. Not exactly a sexy meal, but he couldn’t help feeling a thrill about placing his mouth where hers had just been.
“Holy shit,” he said when he finished chewing.
“I know, right?”
“But that’s good.” Austin stated the obvious. “That’s really good.”
Connor poked his head out of the kitchen. “Are my ears burning?”
“They will be if you keep coming out here instead of paying attention to what you’re cooking,” Mack said, and then added, “You guys, stop making things up.”
“I’m not kidding. This is amazing,” Austin said before Connor went back to the kitchen. He suddenly felt terrible for all the times he’d joined with Mack in teasing his friend.
As they finished their meals, Sam chided Austin and Mack for not seeing what Connor had been offering them.
“I guess you get used to things,” Austin said. “You see the same people every day and you think you know what they’re about, what they do. And then it turns out you have no idea.”
“It’s not that you didn’t know,” Sam said. “It’s not like he’s somebody different. Now you happen to know more about him.”
“If you pay attention,” Austin said. He looked at Sam, at the way her eyes widened and narrowed as she spoke, her expression always shifting. Her voice was strong and firm, calling him out but in a way that made him feel like she cared, even though it had been only hours, really, that they’d known each other. I’m paying attention, he thought to himself. I want to know more about you.
“They’re scared,” Austin said quietly, not wanting Mack to hear.
Sam’s brows pressed together. “Of what? Success?”
Austin shook his head. “I’m not the only one personally affected by the Kane takeover. My friends are lucky not to be in the direct path of the development, but still. Everything they know is about to be taken away.”
Sam sat up so straight he could see what she probably looked like in a suit, the blade of a knife pressed flush against her spine. “You don’t know that,” she said.
“The owners of Gold Mountain and every landowner for miles around are selling everything—except for me, that is. You don’t think that’s going to bring changes?”
“But why do you assume those changes will be bad?”
“You obviously haven’t seen the plans. Sure, everybody wants more skiable acreage. But massive expansion means tons of trees cut down, more snowmaking, and the Kanes have given no indication they know or even care about how to make any of that sustainable. Four new luxury hotels, hundreds of condos—half of them in my backyard—and then there are the restaurants and stores you need to support the influx of people who’ll come up a few days a year, dump their dollars, and leave everyone starving the rest of the time.”
“Jobs?” Sam countered. “Opportunities? Convenience? Are you saying you couldn’t use a larger supermarket, or a medical center that doesn’t require driving to Bellingham?”
He couldn’t believe she was parroting the developers’ arguments. “I’m not stuck here, if that’s what you’re getting at. I live in the woods because I like it. I may not be able to stop the development outright, but that doesn’t mean I have to cave.”
He thought she was going to disagree, come back with some line that would make him even more incensed. But instead she cocked her head and looked at him like she was reading something printed in the back of his mind that even he couldn’t see.
“What?” he asked warily.
But all she said was, “Here, have the last bite of my burger. You’ve been skiing all day and I’m stuffed.”
Austin reached for the burger, but he wished he were reaching across the table for her instead. She’d pulled her leg away, and he felt the emptiness. All he wanted was to get it back.