The Winter Games

by Sharp, Dr. Rebecca

  With Wyatt, I didn’t have to try to be as good a rider as Chance, I didn’t have to try to be one of the guys, I didn’t have to try to be a girly girl. All I had to be was Channing Lily Ryder—and that was enough.

  We walked out of the coffee shop and I promised myself that come hell or high-water, I was going to the registration office on Monday and pulling Chance from the Games. At which point, I would come clean to Wyatt about everything.

  Pulling up in front of his and Zack’s condo, I said, “I’ll see you later, Mr. Olsen.” Grinning, I looked into his eyes.

  “That’s Mr. Milk-Frother to you,” he whispered just before his lips crashed hard onto mine. Then, he was gone—and I was left counting down the minutes until tonight.

  I dropped him off at his place so that I could go pick up Ally and get ready for my afternoon lessons; I’d never been in the Aspen Grove’s development before but holy shit were those condos and townhomes nice. Leaving the cul-de-sac of easily half-a-million dollar homes, I fought with myself over whether to tell Ally about what happened and ask her if she’d seen or talked to our brother.

  In the morning light, what happened last night seemed silly. I told myself that there was no way I could be sure it was Chance. Whether that was the truth or it was that I didn’t want it to be him, that I didn’t want to believe that he’d actually come home and deliberately tried to avoid me. Instead, I told myself that he’d probably given Emmett or Nick the key to get into his room because they were like brothers. What I’d felt wasn’t the eerie tug of my twin nearness but the anxious, tired, and sated sensations of a long, productive, and passionate day. And because I couldn’t be sure, I’d thrown the e-brake on my Jeep and the notion that I should say something to my younger sibling.

  When she got in the car, I was immediately bombarded with questions about my night with Wyatt—most of which I answered. There was no mention of the ‘break-in’ on my part and no mention of Chance on hers. I told myself that if she had seen him or he’d contacted her, she would have told me.

  Ally turned to look at me, pausing her makeup application. “I mean, I assumed you wanted something sexy, otherwise you wouldn’t have asked me.”

  “Well, yeah… but, you don’t think this is too much? It’s only Big Louie’s.” I chewed on my lip, looking down at the scrap of black cloth that was going to somehow transform into an entire dress.

  “No, I don’t. Plus, who cares? You want to look good for Wyatt; what does it matter if it’s a little nicer than what you might normally wear there? It’s for the best, honestly, because some of the things I see women walk in there with. Good God. It’s like the Wild West out here when it comes to fashion sometimes.”

  She had a point.

  “You’re going to look hot in it, Chan.” She winked at me. “He won’t be able to keep his eyes—or his hands—off of you.”

  I held the dress up against me again, my head darting back up as Ally threw her brush onto her vanity. “Oh! Wait! I know what else you have to wear.” She blew right past me, grabbing my arm as she went and pulling me back into my room. I watched her start to open and close all of my drawers.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Stockings.” She rifled through my sock drawer. I raised my hand to my face, something itching underneath my eye. “Don’t touch your face!” Shit. I forgot I had makeup on again. This was probably the third time in the last thirty minutes.

  “I don’t have stockings.” Did she not know me? At all?

  A huge smile spread on her face. “Oh yes, you do.” She slammed the drawer. “Yes, you do. When I made you dress up with me for Halloween, part of the costume you bought was fishnets. Where are they?”

  I stared dumbly at her. We’d dressed up as sexy pirates, except the only thing I had in common with any kind of sailor was that I could swear like one; thanks, Emmett. She was right though, the costume had come with fishnet stockings.

  “Well, where are they?” She tapped her foot. “I don’t have all night. I’m already running behind after doing your makeup.”

  I turned. “I-I don’t know.” I tossed the dress onto my bed and thought for a second. “Maybe…” I opened my closet door, looking in the one corner on the floor, pulling out the box of random clothes—the ones you don’t wear, but also don’t get rid of. “Here.”

  I stood and opened the plastic bag, pulling out the stockings I had worn that night.

  “Perfect.” She smiled deviously. “Put those on with the dress. And then just wear casual black boots to help bring it down.” She walked out of my room before I even had a chance to protest, leaving me standing there holding the damn hooker-tights in my hand like they were toxic.

  “I don’t know about this,” I grumbled to myself, laying the stocking out next to the little black dress.

  Closing the door, I stripped down and stared at the kicker in front of me. A dress. Tights. At least there were no heels involved.

  You can do this, Channing.

  Hands on my hips, I sucked in a deep breath. I had on a black lace bralette and matching lace cheeky’s. The fabric on the dress was so tight that every floral detail on my ass was sure to show through.

  And then I found myself smiling. I may not be a skilled seductress or anything even remotely close to it—but sometimes, I had good ideas. And by good, I meant sexy.

  Wiggling out of my bottoms, I reached for the tights.

  Wyatt wanted to tease me about my matching underwear, well, let’s just see how playful he decides to be when he realizes that tonight, they won’t be matching—they’ll be missing.

  Damn.

  I’d thought the tights were cheesy when we bought them. I thought it when I’d first worn them. Heck, I’d thought it right up until I turned and looked at myself in the mirror, wearing nothing but the fishnets and my bra. The tasteless tights had transformed like Cinder-freaking-ella into a tantalizing temptation, obscuring and revealing just enough…

  I shivered. I couldn’t wait for Wyatt to see.

  Then came the dress. I unhooked my bra, knowing there was no way I could wear anything under such a low-cut top. Picking up the black sheath, I shimmied it over my head, surprisingly remembering to keep it away from the makeup on my face lest Ally have a heart attack.

  I turned and looked in the mirror.

  The only way to tell the front from the back on this dress was because of where the tag was since both dropped into a dangerous V on both sides. I had no idea how Ally wore this with her boobs; it was only because I had none that there was no wardrobe malfunction when I turned or bent over. That was really the only detail on the dress. It clung to my body like my Under Armour, only this was making me hot for an entirely different reason. The dress was short, but so was I compared to my sister so thankfully, it wasn’t too exposing—the top half was revealing enough.

  Opening the other side of my closet, I dug through the mess of shoes on the floor that I never wore, searching for my pair of black ankle boots that did have a small, thick heel on them.

  I slid them on, doing the buckles on the side.

  “Smokin!” Ally stood in the doorway, grinning. “Oh! Wait!” She spun and ran back down the hall—in her heels, no less. I swear, running in heels sounded more dangerous to me than the triple cork. She returned a few seconds later holding her arm out with a leather jacket grasped in her hand. “This will be perfect!”

  I stood and took the moto-looking piece from her, putting it on and turning back to the mirror.

  My outfit walked the fine line of classy and sexy, a sophisticated rock chick with my fashionable dress and tights paired with the leather and buckles on the boots and Ally’s jacket.

  I glanced over at my stylist, willingly admitting to her skills at knowing just what would look good together. My baby sister looked good, too, in a small skirt, cut-off top, and thigh-high boots. But for the first time, her appearance didn’t put a complete damper on my own.

  I looked hot.

  “Told ya
.” She winked at me.

  “You did.” I moved closer to the mirror to fix some wayward strands of my hair.

  “Ok, I just have to put my setting spray on, fix my hair slightly, and then I’ll be ready to go. We are meeting them there?” I nodded in answer to her question.

  Wyatt had offered to pick us up, but that would have put the four of us in the same car at the end of the night and I knew Wyatt wouldn’t be keen on staying with Ally in the house; I wished he would believe me when I said she slept like a freakin’ rock.

  My eyes kept going to my reflection in the mirror, obsessed with what I saw because I knew Wyatt would be, too.

  “Ready!” Ally sang as her heels clamored down the staircase.

  I grabbed the purse she lent me because I sure-as-shit didn’t own one of those either, and followed her down.

  “Wow! It’s packed tonight!” Ally exclaimed as she walked through the door and I trailed closely behind her. Big Louie’s was a happening place—especially when the Broncos were playing, which thankfully wasn’t tonight. There was a small entryway room right through the door where the bouncer, Todd, checked our ID’s; the second door that we’d just walked through put us directly in front of the huge pine bar that had at least forty beers on tap—many from local breweries. During the week, the place could be a little questionable, but on the weekend, it tended to draw a somewhat nicer crowd, especially with the Games coming up; not that that mattered to Nick, Emmett, or my brother—they loved this place.

  The bar was in the center of the room with four widescreen TVs hanging above it; two had on college basketball and two were showing some coverage of Snowmass and the preparations for the upcoming events. It was probably the basketball game that was drawing the crowd, because all these people certainly weren’t here for Nick.

  Ally hooked a right, attempting to circle around the bar on that side to the back of the building where there were tons of high-tops and large windows that had snowy vistas of the mountain.

  “Do you know where they are?”

  “No,” I practically yelled. I’d texted Nick after we parked, but I didn’t get an answer. I knew he and Emmett were here though because I saw their trucks in the lot. I also noticed Zack’s Range Rover parked out front too, so our guys were here, too. “Is there no karaoke tonight?” She stopped and asked as though if I said no, it would be a deal-breaker as to whether we would be staying or not.

  I pushed my hands against her back. “Just keep moving before we both get run over.”

  We squeezed through the crush around to the back where the fewer number of TV’s ensured fewer people. “There.” I pointed over Ally’s shoulder. Emmett’s bright red halo glowed like a beacon in the crowd. As soon as I found our crew, my eyes immediately scanned for the one I was dying to see.

  “There they are!” Zack exclaimed, hauling Ally against him for a kiss while Emmett stared bloody murder at them both. Where was Wyatt?

  I walked up to Nick and gave him an awkward congratulatory hug for finishing his semester.

  “Hey! Thanks for coming, Lil.” His eyes glinted at me. “Or should I call you ‘Pride?’”

  He knew. I froze.

  The world stopped.

  How? What was he going to do?

  “Lil.” Emmett came over to us and restarted reality. “I see you’ve got that shit on your face again.” The slight smile—and the fact that I’d grown up with him—told me he was teasing me. It appeared our delicate truce was continuing to progress—at least while he was preoccupied with being pissed at Ally and Zack.

  “Well, you know how much I like to do things to annoy you.” I shrugged with a laugh. His eyes quickly diverted back to my left—where Ally and Zack were talking and laughing amongst themselves.

  “Fuck, I need to get something stronger,” Emmett swore, downing whatever alcohol was in his cup.

  “Have you seen Wyatt?”

  “At the bar getting drinks for you and him,” Nick responded. “It’s a fucking disaster over there. I told him he should get two. Who knows how long it will take to make it back up there.”

  My eyes immediately went to the crowd waiting to be served. “Are a lot of your friends from school here?” I was still looking for Wyatt. Where was—Found him.

  Hair done. Nice jacket. Button-down shirt. He was the only one here who looked like he could leave and go to a business meeting without having to change clothes.

  “Some are. I think a bunch of them just parked.” He pulled out his phone. “Walking in now.”

  I looked back over to Wyatt who finally looked like he was being served whatever it was that he had ordered.

  “There they are!” Nick exclaimed, walking around me to the group of two… three… six… ten people—mostly women—that spilled into our corner of the room, leaving me effectively alone at the table; Ally and Zack didn’t count because they were too engrossed with each other. I looked again for Wyatt, but he was gone.

  No, he wasn’t. Icy-hot shivers shot up my spine as my eyes found what I was looking for.

  Mr. Milk-Frother was walking right towards me.

  Narrowly avoiding the people in between us, his eyes were focused on the two drinks he was holding until he was just a few feet away from me.

  I’d stopped him in his tracks.

  “CHANNING.” THE DEEP RASP OF his voice made my insides crazy. He set the drinks down onto the table, his eyes never leaving mine. It was like the entire room disappeared as his hands found my waist underneath Ally’s jacket, pulling me towards him. “You’re killing me,” he growled just before his mouth claimed mine.

  God, how was this man so good at everything he did?

  If the X Games had a competition for best kisser, he would take gold in that, too. Hell, he’d take all the medals because there was no competition. I sighed into the kiss, knowing that we were probably worse than Ally and Zack right now the way we were blatantly making out by the table. Did. Not. Care.

  He tugged me hard against him, jamming his tongue deep into my mouth before he pulled away. “What the hell are you wearing?” he rasped.

  “A dress. Tights. Boots. Jacket,” I answered casually, trying not to smile. No big deal. “Why? Don’t you like it?”

  His eyes left mine to look over his shoulder; I followed them only to realize it was a cover-up as he gripped my hips and ground his erection into me for a split second. “Does that answer your question?” Now, I smiled.

  “What did you get us?” I turned towards the martini glasses he’d set on the table filled with murky white liquid and garnished with a cucumber.

  “It’s called an ‘Effin’ Good.’” Our mutually intrigued stares met. “I don’t know. For some reason, I pegged you as a martini girl—somewhere between strong and sweet.”

  “I know what it is.” One of my favorite martinis. “I’ve made it for customers at Breakers.” I took a sip, letting the cool, refreshing cucumber flavor soak over my taste buds. Somewhere between strong and sweet was exactly what this drink was.

  “Do you like it? I can get you something else.” He picked up the other glass, watching me savor my first drink.

  “It’s one of my favorites.” I licked my lips. Suddenly, I felt his finger tracing down along my sternum, stopping when it came to the lowest part of the V.

  “Do that again and I’m throwing you over my shoulder and taking you out to the damn car to have my way with you.” His low growl made me choke on the liquid that I’d already swallowed. I crossed my legs, watching as he took a long swig of his own drink.

  At this moment, I realized how I hadn’t quite thought through my seductive plan. These tights were not ideal at keeping my desire at bay.

  I needed to sit.

  Grabbing the nearest barstool, I pulled myself up onto it making sure my legs still remained crossed. Clearing my throat, “I’m surprised to see you drinking tonight, Mr. Olsen.”

  “What the fuck are you drinking, Olsen?” We both turned to see Emmett stroll over to our tab
le. He eyed both of our drinks with interest as he set down his glass and pulled himself onto another stool.

  “Emmett,” Wyatt greeted him. “Effin’ Good.” Emmett’s face belonged in the dictionary under ‘what the fuck?’

  “It’s an Effin’ Good,” I replied, taking another delicious sip. “I’ve made them for you guys before.” He nodded.

  Ally’s laugh radiated over to our table; she and Zack had joined Nick and some of his school friends. It looked like Zack had said something that had all of them laughing. Except Emmett. He took several long sips of the amber in his cup—Powers whiskey, neat, if I had to guess. “So, how’s your training coming, Lil?”

  “Good. My triple will be as good as yours by next week.” That had him smirking.

  “I’ll be happy to prove you wrong there.” He was responding to me, but I could tell that I wasn’t the Ryder he was focused on. “Glad you’ll be giving some of the other assholes a shot at the Open this year, Olsen.”

  My body tensed. Wyatt hadn’t officially decided that he was retiring from competition yet; it had been suggested and apparently, Emmett decided to assume.

  Only for Emmett, assuming didn’t make him an ass; he was the ‘ass’ in ‘assume.’

  “Well, I figured it was only fair. Must suck to lose all the time.” Damn. I bit my lip trying to restrain a smile. Touché, my dear boyfriend. Touché.

  For the first time that night, Emmett cracked a smile—ok, maybe more like an exaggerated smirk, but close enough, Wyatt’s inflammatory response creating some weird sort of respect for him in Emmett’s eyes. “Well, pity combined with being almost as damn good as the best still attracts the ladies.” My eyes followed his nod over to one of Nick’s classmates—a busty brunette who looked like she’d been eyeing my friend up for quite a few minutes.

  “And being the best landed me a Ryder.” Wyatt put his arm around the back of my chair, draining the rest of his cocktail. He hadn’t meant anything by the comment, but I saw the way Emmett’s hand clenched around his glass and his jaw muscle spasmed.