by Erika Kelly
In this case, switching the channel meant having someone else get Delilah settled in, but Lachlan was unreliable and Marcella needed a break, so Will figured he could handle it.
He thought about the way she laughed, though. The way it lit up her whole face, made her hazel eyes sparkle, and wondered if he might be making a tactical mistake.
* * *
Lick.
Under a canopy of trees shading the sidewalk outside Bliss, the town’s ice cream parlor, Will forced himself to look away…until she moaned. And then he had to see her expression.
“Oh, my God.” Delilah’s eyelids fluttered closed, and her pink tongue made a slow pass around the edge of her melting ice cream cone.
Delilah Lua turned out to be nothing like he’d expected. Then again, other than her family owning a famous Italian restaurant, Callie hadn’t told him much. Maybe he’d expected a dark-haired woman. A harried, fast-talking New Yorker?
Not a blonde beauty with exotically-shaped eyes.
Not sexy as fuck.
Everything about her was sexual. The sway of her hips when she walked, the way her teeth sank into her lush bottom lip when she turned thoughtful, and that luxurious, long hair that shook and shimmied every time she used her hands to tell a story—which was all the damn time.
Expressive, energetic…she turned a basic tour of downtown Calamity into an experience.
Her eyelids popped open, and those warm, hazel eyes trained on him. “What is it about this ice cream?”
Just when Will pried his gaze off her mouth to answer, she ran that tongue along her plump bottom lip, kicking the hum of desire in his dick to a full-blown throb. “The owner’s the president of the Slow Food Organization. He uses all natural ingredients sourced from local farmers.”
“A-ma-zing.” She’d spent so much time savoring it—to let the “flavors linger in my mouth”—that the ice cream was dripping. Grinning, she licked it off her fingers. “Best I’ve ever tasted. Do you mind if I talk to the owner real quick? I promise I won’t be long.”
Liar. He’d planned on giving her a quick lay-of-the-land. Calamity wasn’t that big. Three long streets filled with shops, restaurants, and bars, faced the town green. The historic section sat a few blocks beyond Main Street, complete with wooden boardwalks and the original, now-faded advertisements on the wood and brick buildings built in the early nineteen-hundreds.
But she’d kept ducking into restaurants to check out the décor and meet the chefs. Just before stopping for ice cream, she’d spent twenty minutes with the owner of Coco’s Chocolates discussing her “sources” and “process.”
He’d never met anyone so interested in food. And people. And…everything. “No problem.”
She watched him with those clever eyes that didn’t miss a thing. “I don’t want to keep you. If you want to go, I can always catch an Uber back to the ranch.”
“I’m good.” He turned toward the set of picnic tables under the Ponderosa pine trees. He’d clocked the teenager watching him earlier, so he wasn’t surprised when she approached him the moment Delilah went back inside the ice cream parlor.
“Can I get your autograph?” She thrust the napkin and pen out, as if forcing herself to break through her fears. “I want to be just like you.”
Will Bowie liked the kid’s spirit. “You board?” He reached for the pen. “Or ski?”
“I grew up boarding, but I want to ski half-pipe like you. Especially after what Damien said.”
Will didn’t care what his closest competitor had to say. For five years the guy had come in second to Will’s first and bitched about it every time. Sore loser.
He scrawled a note to the kid.
Set goals, stay focused, and take home the gold.
Will Bowie
As he handed the napkin back, the girl said, “I don’t believe anything he says.”
“Good.” But the defiance in her tone got Will’s attention. “Thing is, any time you’re on top, you’re going to have people trying to yank you down. You’ve got to keep your eye on the prize. You’re Teflon, and the negativity’s water. Let it roll right off you.”
“My dad says Damien’s a jackass. Nothing but a showboater. You’re…you’re perfect. I’ve never seen anyone ride the rails the way you do.”
“Thanks.” He shook the teen’s hand. “Means a lot.”
As she read the note, her eyes widened. She gazed up at Will with a painfully earnest and hopeful expression. “You mean it?”
“You think I’m a superhero?” Will waited for the comment to sink in. “I’m just a guy. I won for two reasons. One, I work hard, and two, I never gave up. Nothing more to it. So, yeah, you can absolutely stand on that podium. You just have to want it more than anything else.”
“I do. I totally do. Thank you.” With a huge smile, the girl dashed back off to her skateboarding friends.
“Hey.” Wiping her mouth with a napkin, Delilah approached him. “Sorry about that.”
Most people wanted to see the elk preserve or Bazzo’s Mercantile. They got a kick out of taxidermy grizzly bears, antique brothel tokens, or jewelry made of elk ivory, agate, or opal.
Not Delilah. She seemed to find those the least interesting things about the area. With a thoughtful expression, she took in the crowded town green and the sidewalks busy with tourists. After a long hard winter, summer hit with a bang in June, drawing out the residents and attracting visitors. Most used Calamity as a base for their Yellowstone and Grand Teton adventures.
She smiled at the group of teenagers. “You’re quite the celebrity in this town.”
“I just got back from a pretty big competition. It’ll settle down.”
“What kind of competition?”
“I ski. Half-pipe.”
She glanced to the mountains that jutted out of the earth, snow glistening on their rugged peaks. “You any good?”
“I hold my own.”
“I’m totally kidding you right now.” She nudged him with her elbow. “I do pop my head out of the kitchen every now and then.”
“Yeah? You follow freestyle skiing?”
She laughed. “No, but a good friend of mine—Callie Bell? You might know her?” She gave him a mischievous smile. “She gave me the low-down on the whole family. Besides, I think about a hundred people have congratulated you so far.”
“Will, dude.” An old friend from high school approached them. “Proud as shit, man.” He slapped Will’s back.
“Thanks. Delilah, this is my friend Gunther.”
She reached to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same.” He turned his attention to Will. “Dude, your amplitude in the qualifying round?” Gunther tipped his head back and howled with excitement. “Holy shit, I thought you were gonna crash into a satellite or something. Never seen anything like it.”
“Thanks.”
His friend’s gaze darted over Will’s shoulder, and the smile faded. “Ah, hell. Looks like you’ve got company.”
Will turned to see a news van and a couple of paparazzi heading up the street toward him.
“And that’s my cue to head home.” He turned to Delilah. “You ready?”
“Sure.”
“Gunther, man, I’ll catch up with you later.”
His friend nodded. “I’ll distract them with my big—”
“Truck?” Will shook his head and smiled before taking off down the street.
Delilah fell into step beside him. “You don’t do interviews?”
“I do scheduled interviews before, during, and after events. I don’t bring my work home with me.” Actually, the paps didn’t usually come to Calamity. He thought about Ruby, and a sick feeling churned in his stomach. “They might be after something else.”
He’d parked on the other side of town, behind the yoga studio, so he ducked down a quiet side street, hoping to dodge the reporters.
“The fact that a celebrated chef’s staying with you?”
“Ha.” If only.
“They might know about Ruby.”
“Why would anyone care about your sister?”
She kept right up with him, and he appreciated the hell out of that. Especially in those fancy gold sandals she wore. He gestured to them. “Need me to slow down?”
“Oh, honey, I’m a New Yorker. I can chase down a purse snatcher in heels twice as high and not miss a beat.”
He couldn’t help smiling.
“So, Ruby?” she asked.
“You remember that World’s Worst Boyfriend thing last summer?” His youngest brother had turned into an international meme when a text he sent to a friend went viral. Thousands of spurned lovers from around the world had told their stories on social media, replacing their real-life lover with Fin’s name.
“Uh, yeah.”
The meme had trended for months. His fiancée, Callie, had even made a museum out of it. “It pretty much put Calamity on the map.”
“As adorable as the whole modesty thing is, it’s just me here, so let’s lay it all out there. It put the four hot Bowie brothers on the map.”
Delilah Lua was a trip. “Anyhow, a lot of that attention hasn’t died down. They’ve got fan groups that keep track of what we’re doing. They might’ve found out about Ruby.”
“And you don’t want the world to know about her?”
Hell no. “We’re trying to get her settled and adjusted. She doesn’t need reporters in her face.” He didn’t need to share his real concerns with a houseguest. “But there are plenty of other reasons.”
“Like?”
He wanted to be annoyed at her pushiness, but—at least for the next two weeks—she was involved in their lives. She should be aware. “Frankly, we don’t want her to become a target.”
“The whole billionaire thing?”
He cut her a look. Bingo.
“Yikes. You really think that’s a possibility?”
Kidnapping the children of billionaires? He and his brothers had grown up with security detail on the ranch, so yes. A very real possibility.
“Will?” a reporter shouted.
Another paparazzi came rushing at him from a side street. “Will, do you have a response to Damien’s interview?”
He remembered what the teenager had said just a moment ago. Especially after what Damien said.
What’s that asshole done now?
“It’s not about Ruby.” Delilah touched his arm. “Do you want to stop and give them a quick answer? It might get them to leave sooner.”
“I’m not dignifying anything Damien Brenner has to say.” In the old section of town, they reached the alley between the yoga studio and Callie’s museum. Two of the elderly staff came out the door and waved, inviting conversation. Just as Delilah veered toward them—her natural inclination to be open and friendly—he grabbed her hand. “I’ll take you there another time.”
“What is that place?”
“That’s Callie’s Museum of Broken Relationships.”
“That’s it? Oh, my God. I have to see it.”
“Wait up, Will,” a reporter called. “Is there any truth to what Damien said?”
Don’t know, don’t care. As soon as he got to his truck, he’d get his manager on the phone. See if he could get ahead of whatever trouble Damien had stirred up.
Just as they emerged out of the alley, though, reporters swarmed him. “Will, is it true? Does your family money have anything to do with your wins?” one of them shouted.
Delilah swung around. “What kind of question is that?”
Will caught her upper arm, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t engage them.”
“Can you verify whether your father invested in any of the Games’ sponsors, Will?” someone shouted.
Truck in sight, he dug into his pocket for his keys. He hit the fob and the tail lights flashed. Just before he reached the driver’s side door, he heard someone shout, “Running away only makes you look guilty.”
Guilty? He wanted to remind them his dad had been gone over two years. You think he’s paying off judges from the grave? But the whole thing was ridiculous, and he wouldn’t validate it with a response.
His manager would put out a statement, shutting down Damien’s latest bullshit. Will pulled open the door and stepped on the running board.
“Will!”
Just as he started to close the door, he heard, “How do you feel about being suspended?”
He slammed into the word with the same impact as hitting the ice wall of the half-pipe.
Suspended?
Chapter Five
What the hell could he have done to get suspended? Unless…had Damien uncovered a connection between his dad’s investments and a sponsor? If he had, no way would it have come with strings. In the World Freestyle Games, the judges were former athletes, and the idea that they could be bought was laughable. Extreme athletes were in it for the thrill of the sport.
He held the door open for Delilah, and then followed her inside the house. A cartoon blared on the television. “Ruby?” He found the remote and punched it off. “Mom?”
“Hey.” Alex, his manager, came out from the kitchen. “We need to talk.”
“Hang on a sec. Have you seen Ruby and my mom?”
“Your mom’s out back. And Ruby’s looking for…something. I don’t know.”
“She left Ruby alone?”
“I guess so. But she’s fine. I saw her a few minutes ago. Look, we’ve got to talk about this suspension.”
“Not until I find her.” He breezed past, needing to get eyes on her.
“Will.” His manager’s harsh tone stopped him. “This is serious. We’ve got decisions to make.”
“My sister’s a hell of a lot more important than some bullshit suspension.”
But Delilah was already heading into the kitchen. “I got it.”
He turned to his manager. “What’s going on?”
“A few days ago, Damien ran his mouth off with the press.” Alex pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Here. Listen to it yourself.” He pressed Play.
On the small screen, a reporter shoved a microphone in Damien’s face. “So, here you go again. Always a bridesmaid never a bride. How do you feel about that?”
Damien’s amiable demeanor hardened. “It sucks. But I guess if my family was rich as hell, you might see me on the podium seven years in a row.”
“Wait, what’re you suggesting?” the guy asked.
“The Bowies own half the world,” Damien said. “Figure it out.”
“Are you suggesting Will Bowie’s family bought the judges?”
“Look, Will’s a great skier, but he didn’t outperform me this time,” Damien said. “He just didn’t. So…come to your own conclusions.”
Alex killed the video.
Into the blaring silence came a sugar-sweet voice. “Hi.” Ruby, in blue and white polka dot pajamas, came bumping down the carpeted stairs on her butt. Under her arm, she clutched her big, white chicken.
“You okay, Rubes?” When she nodded, he checked the time on the phone. “Why’s she still in pajamas?”
“I don’t know.” His manager lifted both his arms in exasperation. “Come on, Will. This is serious.”
“It’s almost one o’clock. She should be dressed. She should be playing outside.” Will started for her, but his manager caught his arm.
“The League’s thinking about suspending you. Do you understand the impact of that?”
Heels clacked on the hardwood floor. Great. Just what he wanted his mom to hear.
“Suspending him?” In a silk blouse and slim-fitting skirt, his mom looked like she’d just walked off the page of a fashion magazine. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve got an issue with the League,” his manager said. “But we’re handling it.”
“Why?” his mom asked. “What’s he done?”
Jesus, not now. “I haven’t done anything. Damien’s a sore loser who’s shooting his mouth off again. No one takes him seriously.” He couldn’t get
suspended based on an unsubstantiated rumor. “This isn’t his first tantrum.”
“He just accused your family of buying the judges, Will,” Alex said.
“Is it true?” his mom asked.
He turned away from her, as if to dodge the bullet, but it glanced across his pride nonetheless. “Of course it’s not true. It’s so ridiculous it doesn’t merit discussion.”
“It merits a whole lot more than discussion.” Alex gave him a hard look. “It merits an investigation.”
What? He’d been a League member for nearly two decades. They knew him. They knew his family. “How? It doesn’t even make sense. They’ve got different judges every year. Besides, you think if we pulled a stunt like this for seven years it wouldn’t get out? You don’t think one of them would come forward?”
“You’re missing the point. No one thinks you paid off judges.” His manager’s expression sharpened. “Damien just questioned the integrity of the sport.”
“Okay, but they can’t suspend me based on some—” Will watched the little girl, still bumping down the staircase. He motioned impatiently for his mom to get her. “Nonsense from a poor sport.”
Ruby flashed a grin with her tiny, white Chiclet teeth. “Hi.” When she hit the bottom stair, she waved like she was on a float in a parade.
In her enormous chicken slippers, the girl padded over to the coffee table, flung her stuffed chicken on it, and climbed on top. Her little legs stretched out in front of her, and her tumble of auburn hair gleamed in the afternoon light. “Hi.” This time her voice wavered, and her elbow lowered a notch.
Delilah reached for her, whispering in her ear, but Ruby firmly shook her head and stayed put.
“They have no choice,” his manager said. “People watch sports to see athletes push the boundaries. To do things no one’s ever done before. If they think it’s fake, they won’t watch, and then the money dries up. Look, the half-pipe’s new to the Olympics. The League can’t afford to lose spectators. So, for the sake of appearances, they have to do an investigation. Keep everything clean and above board.”
