He texted her back. If she’s not made of powder, I’m not interested. Just wanna ski.
In a week, the competitive ski season would be over, and Rush could have all the women he wanted without worrying about them messing with his head and, in turn, screwing with his ability to win. But getting laid by some random woman wasn’t anywhere on Rush’s agenda. Rush had planned on revealing to Jayla that he finally realized he was truly, madly, and infuriatingly in love with her. Now his plan was shot to hell, and he had no interest in doing anything other than making it through the week and coming out on top of the North Face Competition, the last race of the season.
He didn’t have to look at Jayla to know that her eyebrows were drawn together and she was reaching for that empty bag of gummy bears, hoping to find just one more to calm her nerves. Or to know that Marcus fucking White was eyeing every move she made.
Rush followed the other members of the ski team who had volunteered to teach the ski workshops off of the van. Cliff Bail and Patrick Staller looked like they had just walked out of Skier magazine with their strong physiques and dirty-blond, sun-streaked hair. They checked out the female reporters as they headed for the resort with Kia Lyle and Teri Martin on their heels. Rush hung back, hoping the reporters would get their fill of interviews with his teammates and give him a break. He inhaled the crisp, cold mountain air, kicked the blanket of fresh snow with the toe of his boot, and surveyed the grounds of the place that he’d call home for the next week. The majestic three-story stone and cedar lodge was set against the backdrop of snowcapped mountains. Curvy slopes carved wide white paths through the trees, snaking from the mountain peaks to the valleys below, and it took his breath away.
Reporters and cameramen were on him seconds later, shoving microphones in his face and snapping photos.
“Rush, do you have anything you’d like to say to your fans?”
Rush answered the male reporter without breaking stride on his way into the lobby, with a serious look in his eyes and a practiced media-worthy smile. “I appreciate their support, and they can count on me to be ready for the next Olympics.”
He wondered if they’d even caught his last words as Jayla stepped from the van and every camera turned in her direction. Since winning two Olympic gold medals, Jayla had been hounded by the press even more than he had. Nothing beat a hot female Olympic medalist. Having been friends with her for years, he was thrilled for her success, though he couldn’t ignore the ego slap at being cast aside by the press. He didn’t blame them really. Jayla was America’s sweetheart, the new face of Dove, and the best damn role model young girls could ask for.
The Olympic ski team had been sponsored by leading ski manufacturers and clothing manufacturers. After winning his Olympic golds, Rush had secured several of his own sponsors, ranging from sunscreen manufacturers to energy drink manufacturers, and since winning her Olympic gold medal for the downhill event, Jayla had also received sponsorships from hair care and beauty product manufacturers.
“Dude, you a statue? Let’s go.” Marcus pushed past Rush, carrying a leather bag thrown over his shoulder.
America’s sweetheart and the new girlfriend of this asshole.
“Three bags. Over there,” Marcus snapped at the twenty-something bellboy who looked like he’d just come from at a day at the beach, with his long sun-streaked bangs covering his eyes and tanned face.
Rush gritted his teeth to keep from giving him a two-fisted lesson in manners. Asshole. He and Marcus had trained together for the last three years. At the Olympics two years earlier, Marcus failed to qualify to compete in the medal rounds while Rush had gone on to become one of the few men to win Olympic medals in all five disciplines: gold in the slalom and giant slalom, and silver in the Super-G, downhill, and combined. Marcus had been a prick before Rush won, and he’d turned into a prick extraordinaire ever since. And for the last three weeks, he’d monopolized every second of Jayla’s time—a harsh reminder that Rush had waited too long already, and he needed to tell Jayla how he felt about her before she and Marcus got in any deeper.
Rush watched him barge through the glass doors with his chin held high. He’d like to knock that pointy chin into tomorrow.
Marcus shouldn’t even be there. He hadn’t volunteered like Rush and a few of the other team members had to help his buddy Blake Carter’s wife, Danica, teach a ski workshop for kids from her youth center, No Limitz. Community outreach was important for Rush’s and his teammates’ images, but Rush hadn’t volunteered for that reason. Blake was his buddy, and he liked to promote the sport to youth. Hell, if it were up to Rush, he’d teach kids to ski the minute they could walk.
Rush held the door open as the volunteers from the women’s ski team filed through, listening as Jayla tried to disengage from the press.
“Any messages for your fans?” The red-coated reporter shoved a microphone in her face.
Since winning her gold, Jayla had been all over television and radio commercials as well as print ads for Dove and a few of her other sponsors, and young girls from all over had emailed her in support, many thanking her for inspiring them. Jayla wasn’t the type to get an inflated ego. Prior to Marcus consuming Jayla’s personal life, Rush had been by her side when she personally answered many of those emails, and her genuine gratitude had reeled his heart in even more. Then again, gratitude and sincerity were integral parts of Jayla’s sweet nature.
“Yes. I appreciate their support. I love hearing from them, and I hope to make them proud next weekend.”
“Any plans for the next Olympics?” a different female reporter asked.
The next Olympics might be two years away, but Rush, Jayla, and the rest of the team practiced as if it were right around the corner.
“Train and win.” Jayla slung a bag over her shoulder and waved as she walked away. A reporter hurried beside her, and Jayla slowed just long enough to say a gracious thank you before catching up to Rush.
“Thanks, Rush,” she said as she came through the door.
Rush leaned in close and tried to mask the storm brewing in his gut. “Thought you were coming alone.”
She narrowed her eyes. “So did I.”
He’d seen her flinch when she lifted her bag, and since she’d had two previous shoulder injuries, Rush did what he’d always done. He reached for her bag.
She glared at him. “I’m fine.”
He held up his hands in surrender.
Most women were needy, clingy, and while Rush was all too happy to spend a few hours getting his groove on and pleasuring them, he wasn’t the type to listen to bitching and moaning and to answer questions like, Do these jeans make me look fat? He’d learned this lesson early in life, when he’d answered honestly on more than one occasion. No, the lard in that cake you just downed makes you look fat. Jayla wasn’t like most women. She was intense, competitive, strong. Those were just a few of the many qualities he loved about her. She was a freaking bulldog when she wanted to be, and she was also stubborn as a goddamn mule.
He tried to ignore the clutch in his chest as she flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder and flashed a smile at Marcus. Rush and Jayla had met at ski camp as teenagers, and they’d quickly become as close as two friends could be. He trusted Jayla with his dirtiest secrets, and he knew her deepest fears. He was surprised that after all these years she still put up with him and that he hadn’t fucked up their friendship, especially now that he realized—or rather, accepted—what a womanizing douche he’d been for all those years, something he’d never tried to hide from her. He had his eldest brother, Jack, and a comment from Jayla to thank for that little eye-opening nugget of truth. Although they’d shared the details of their personal lives, they’d never judged each other, and for the first time ever, he was having a hard time keeping his mouth shut. In order to make it through this messed-up week, he pushed aside thoughts of Jayla and Marcus and focused on the upcoming North Face Competition, the last race of the season.
“Ow!”
<
br /> Rush turned and caught a glimpse of Jayla rubbing her arm. He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, locking a heated stare on Marcus. He could hardly believe she’d gone out with him once, much less that they were still together after three weeks. It made no sense at all. Marcus was a total controlling prick, and Jayla was…He wouldn’t allow himself to think of the litany of qualities he loved about her or how long it had taken him to finally open his eyes and realize just how much he loved them.
Jayla was facing the opposite direction, and without walking over, he’d have no way of knowing if Marcus had hurt her or if she was bitching about breaking a nail. Then again, Jayla didn’t give a shit about her nails. Never had.
Marcus slung his arm around Jayla’s shoulder and turned away with a smirk. Rush didn’t miss the way Jayla’s body went rigid beneath his touch.
Not my problem.
To continue reading, be sure to pick up the next
LOVE IN BLOOM release:
SLOPE OF LOVE, The Remingtons, Book Four
Book Thirteen in the Love in Bloom series
The Complete Love in Bloom Series
Check online retailers for availability
SNOW SISTERS
Sisters in Love
Sisters in Bloom
Sisters in White
THE BRADENS
Lovers at Heart
Destined for Love
Friendship on Fire
Sea of Love
Bursting with Love
Hearts at Play
THE REMINGTONS
Game of Love
Stroke of Love
Flames of Love
Slope of Love
Read, Write, Love
MORE BRADENS COMING SOON
Taken by Love
Fated for Love
Romancing my Love
Flirting with Love
Dreaming of Love
Crashing into Love
Acknowledgments
My readers are a constant source of inspiration and support. I enjoy hearing from you, and I hope you will continue to reach out to me on social media and through emails. Thank you for connecting with my stories and with me.
I would like to thank all of the firefighters who risk their lives on a daily basis to keep us safe. I think many people don’t fully recognize the fear and risk they face when they’re on the job. I know I didn’t before speaking with Gary Hoffman, paramedic firefighter with the Williamsport Company 2, VFD-EMS. Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions, Gary. I have taken many creative liberties, and all errors are my own.
Many thanks to all of my friends and family who have reached out in support of my writing, read through my various scenes, and talked me off the ledge on a few occasions when perfecting scenes. My editorial team continues to amaze me on a daily basis with their patience, persistence, and meticulous attention to detail. Tremendous gratitude goes to Kristen Weber, Penina Lopez, Jenna Bagnini, Juliette Hill, and Marlene Engel.
I would like to thank my cover artists, Natasha Brown, and my formatter, Clare Ayala, for their patience and expertise.
Last, but never, ever least, Les, thank you for supporting me while I fall in love over and over again with fictional men. I adore you.
Melissa Foster is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling and award-winning author. Her books have been recommended by USA Today’s book blog, Hagerstown magazine, The Patriot, and several other print venues. She is the founder of the Women’s Nest, a social and support community for women, and the World Literary Café. When she's not writing, Melissa helps authors navigate the publishing industry through her author training programs on Fostering Success. Melissa also hosts Aspiring Authors contests for children, and has painted and donated several murals to the Hospital for Sick Children in Washington, DC.
Visit Melissa on her website or chat with her on The Women’s Nest or social media. Melissa enjoys discussing her books with book clubs and reader groups and welcomes an invitation to your event.
www.MelissaFoster.com
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