Slope of Love (Love in Bloom: The Remingtons)

by Melissa Foster

  Tension rolled off him in waves. “But?”

  She wrapped her fingers around the waist of his jeans. “But we both know this can’t go very far. There’s a reason you’re so focused when you train, and there’s a reason the coach is giving me the stink eye.”

  And I have to find out if I’m going to be a competitive skier next year or a nobody, which just might change the way you think about me.

  Chapter Eleven

  AS EXPECTED, THE second day of teaching was more trying than the first, not only because several of the kids had more confidence than skills, which meant Rush and Jayla had to be hypervigilant about their safety, but also because Rush could barely think past his conversation with Jayla. She had exposed the elephant in the room—real relationships and competition didn’t mix—and the wind had once again changed, cooling the heat between them. Now Rush stood at the top of the bunny hill with Suzie Baker, thinking about Jayla.

  “I really don’t think I can do this.”

  Suzie’s voice pulled him back to the more immediate issue, getting her down the hill safely. He tucked away his worry and brought Suzie into focus. Her blond hair stuck out beneath a pink knit cap, which matched her new pink and black parka and her black snow pants. Her mother had bought her all the right clothes. Too bad she hadn’t put as much effort into building her confidence outside of her reliance on gaining the attention of men.

  “Suzie, tell me something you feel like you are really good at.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I guess dating doesn’t count?”

  Jesus. He knew Jayla should have taken her up, but Jayla had her hands full with a few of the other kids. “A sport, Suzie. Dating’s not a sport.” There was a time he’d have disagreed with that statement. He felt proud knowing he’d changed and knew that only Jayla could have had that sort of impact on him.

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Swimming.”

  “Swimming. Cool sport. That takes strength, confidence, and agility. Okay, and what makes you good at it?”

  “I’m fast.” She pushed her hat farther up on her forehead.

  He ignored the incessant blinking of her heavily mascaraed lashes.

  “Okay, you’re a strong swimmer. Tell me what scares you about this hill.” Rush watched her look down the slope. The color drained from her face, and if she didn’t lose that fear, she’d never make it down on her feet.

  “Falling.”

  “What happens if you fall?”

  She shrugged. “I could break a leg.”

  “True. You could, but I highly doubt you will. Look at me a minute.”

  She looked at him and smiled.

  He waited for her smile to falter, so he knew she was doing more than just trying to get his attention. “I bet you don’t remember what it was like to learn to swim, do you?”

  “No, but my mom said I pitched a fit because I thought I’d drown.”

  “And did you? Drown, I mean?”

  She laughed. “No.”

  “This is the same thing. In here”—he pointed to his head—“you think you’re going to fall. But also in here”—he pointed to his head again—“your brain sends messages to your body about what to do to keep from falling. You fell twice, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Once while learning the wedge and once while walking up the hill sideways, when you lost your balance.”

  She nodded again. “But then I did the sideways thing fine the next time.”

  “Exactly. When you look down that hill, I want you to remember that when you swim, you don’t drown, and if you feel yourself falling—”

  “Center my balance.” She grinned and her eyes widened.

  Rush smiled. “That’s exactly right. I knew you were a good listener. When you’re on the slope, I want you to stop thinking about boys, and clothes, and school, and anything else that steals your focus.”

  She nodded and drew her brows together.

  Rush knew that the instant he saw the confidence in Suzie’s eyes, he had to act on it. Otherwise, she’d have time to talk herself right back into her worries. “Do you remember how I showed you to ski in an S rather than straight down the hill?”

  She nodded. “To control my speed.”

  “Good, then you’re all set. Remember, faster is not always better.” He pointed to his head. “You control everything, and just like swimming, you’re strong, you’re confident, and I have faith in your skills.”

  He skied close by her and was impressed at how she kept her body centered, her arms tucked in, and her chin level, just as she’d been taught.

  When she reached the bottom and had to catch herself with one of her poles to keep from toppling over, she faced Rush with wide smile. “Can I go again?”

  “You know what you just proved?”

  “That maybe I can ski after all?” Suzie looked back up at the bunny hill.

  He felt the stare of Suzie’s mother like a laser beam. He’d made an effort not to make eye contact with her after the way she’d leered at him yesterday.

  “Can I talk with you a minute?” Suzie’s mother called to him.

  Shit. He held up a finger and answered Suzie. “Yes, that you can ski and that the power of positive thinking can pull you through even the things that you’re most afraid of. All that peripheral stuff slows you down. Focus, Suzie. You can absolutely do it again. I’m proud of you. Join Jayla and the others and I’ll be right there.” He wondered if the power of positive thinking could bring Jayla into his arms—or get rid of Suzie’s mother.

  Team practice started in less than an hour, and he had hoped to catch up with Jayla and clear the air beforehand. They both needed clear heads for practice. Dealing with a mother with hunger in her eyes was the last thing he needed. He knew exactly what Ms. Baker was after in her knee-high black boots and tailored coat—instead of the bulky parka she’d worn the day before—and if he wasn’t mistaken, much more makeup than she’d had on yesterday. He cast a quick glance at Jayla, her face free of makeup, a thick hat pulled down low over her ears, and ten times more beautiful than Ms. Baker or any other woman could ever hope to be, because Jayla had a warm heart and good intentions. When she looked up and met his gaze, she smiled—until her eyes shifted to Suzie’s mother, and she quickly turned away.

  He could almost hear her thoughts—See? You haven’t changed—as if he were up to his old tricks.

  Only he had changed.

  Chapter Twelve

  JAYLA WAS READING a text from Jen—Any decision yet about RR?—when Rush joined her after their last workshop was over. She texted back, Thinking.

  Rush pulled off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. “Did you see Suzie?” His cheeks were pink from the cold, and his eyes shone with pride for Suzie’s success.

  “Mm-hm.”

  He bristled at her cold response, and it sent a wave of guilt through her. She’d been stewing over their conversation all day, trying to dissect it, to make the truth of how relationships and competing didn’t mix come apart. As if that wasn’t enough to make her belly twist and her nerves burn, to then have to watch Suzie’s mother flirting with Rush? She’d watched women flirting with him for years, and she’d never been clutched by jealousy the way she was today. Our kiss changed everything. Not to mention the dull ache that decided to set up camp in her shoulder. She had no idea how she’d focus at practice.

  Rush took her hand in his. “We have twenty minutes before practice. Let’s go someplace and talk.”

  Talking leads to kissing, and kissing got my head scrambled in the first place. He led her into the lodge. Rush pulled out a chair for her by a small corner table that overlooked the slopes.

  “Want me to get you something warm to drink?”

  It struck her how considerate Rush was of her. Always.

  “Sure.”

  “Hot chocolate with mini marshmallows or hazelnut java?”

  She smiled up at him. “You choose.” As she watched him walk away, she noticed several othe
r women also watching him. Rush had always been Rush to her. He was above all else her confidant and friend, but he was also handsome, funny, kind, and now she could add a damn good kisser to that list. But if she pushed away all that she knew of him and saw what the other women did, she wondered what she’d find.

  Jayla closed her eyes for a second, then opened them and pretended that she didn’t know that his father was controlling or that his mother evened that out with her soft nature. She tried to forget the tattoos on his upper back and his arm and the scar he’d gotten during camp one summer that ran along the index finger on his right hand. She pushed away the sound of his young voice as he’d whispered urgently to hide so the counselors didn’t catch them out after curfew and the way his heated breath had made her entire body shudder last night. And as he came toward her with two steaming mugs in his hand, she saw a man who looked at her like she was the only woman in the room. He had a kind, handsome face, which, if she were really a stranger, would seem open and welcoming. She dragged her eyes down his body, and a shiver ran through her as she remembered the feel of him against her. Oh yeah, she knew just what the other women were seeing. He was not only damn hot, but as warm and inviting as a summer’s breeze.

  Rush set the mug of hot chocolate in front of her and sat down. “I gotta admit, I felt a little like I was being checked out just then.”

  She felt her face flush and covered her eyes with her hand. “I just wanted to see what all the other women saw.”

  “And?”

  She glanced up at the amused look on his face. “And now I’m completely mortified that you caught me doing it.”

  “Why? I check you out all the time.” His smile reached his eyes, and when he lifted his mug and took a sip, his smiling eyes were still locked on her.

  “You do?”

  “Hell yes. I’d be crazy not to. But to be honest, I used to check you out from a different perspective. You know, to make sure you didn’t have spinach between your teeth or anything.” He laughed under his breath.

  She was still stuck on Hell yes.

  “I’ve only been checking you out like that for the past, oh, I don’t know, year or so. But now…”

  “Year?” Year! “Now?” Stop, stop, stop.

  He leaned across the table and motioned her closer. “Since we kissed,” he whispered, then sat back with a satisfied look in his eyes.

  She tugged at the end of her hair. “You’re just trying to rattle me.” She took a drink to buy herself time to learn how to breathe again. “Brat.”

  “Okay, so we should talk about this.” He ran a hand between the two of them. “Us.”

  Why does jumping across the table to kiss you suddenly seem like an option? Not only was that a crazy-ass idea that went against everything she was trying to accomplish, but it would not go over well with clunky ski boots weighing her down.

  “Us? I don’t remember committing to an us.”

  “No. You sure didn’t, which, I might add, is not great for my tender ego.” He set his mug down. “But don’t you think we should at least talk about it?”

  “I can’t even think about all this. I’m still reeling from…” She noticed Patrick and Cliff sitting at another table and she lowered her voice. “You know.”

  He laughed. “You can’t even say it? The kiss?” He leaned in close again. “The hot, sexy, passionate kiss that left me practically unable to walk?”

  “You’re doing it again, saying things just to get to me.” Her eyes darted to the other tables.

  “Get to you?” He cocked his head.

  “Make me uncomfortable. You know I’m private about that stuff.”

  “I probably know about at least ninety percent of the men you’ve kissed.” He furrowed his brow. “How can you say you’re private about it?”

  “Well, private between us. You’re my closest friend, but I don’t like other people to know those things.”

  “I’m sorry.” He lowered his voice. “I wasn’t doing it to get to you in that way. But I was doing it to bring it back to your mind so that it would be tougher for you to put me back in the friend zone.”

  Coach Cunningham walked by their table, square chin held high, broad shoulders squared. He paused, shifting his serious eyes between the two of them. “Ten minutes.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ll be there.” Rush nodded and watched him walk away.

  “Rush, maybe we should table even talking about it until after the competition this weekend. Then we’ll have a few weeks to decide if it’s worth it.” Her stomach sank thinking about all of it—her shoulder, the competition, delaying what she really wanted…being with Rush—but she was already on thin ice with the coach. The women’s coach had spoken to her about her loss of focus before they came to Colorado, and she was sure that was why Coach Cunningham had zeroed in on her during the meeting. What she wasn’t sure of was whether her coach had attributed her lack of focus to her shoulder injury or to her relationship with Marcus—or both.

  His jaw twitched. He pressed his lips together, then scrubbed his face with his hand and nodded. “If it’s worth it?” His eyes filled with pain. “Is that what you want to do?”

  “I…” No. She was staring at the man she’d loved forever, and she couldn’t form a single sentence to save her life.

  He gripped the edge of the table. “I’m gonna make this really easy for you. The competition is only a couple days away, and by the look in your eyes, you’re more than a little conflicted about the two of us.”

  He rose to his feet, and her heart nearly stopped.

  “Friends. Until you decide what you want.”

  He was being considerate, and still his words pierced her heart. She knew all it would take was for her to stand up and tell him that wasn’t what she wanted at all, but she caught sight of Coach Cunningham and a different worry gripped her. She had to get back on track.

  “Is that what you want?” she finally managed.

  “I think you already know the answer to that.” He picked up his mug and looked toward the door. “Ready to hit practice?” He asked the question without an ounce of resentment, and it stole the air from her lungs.

  No. I’m not sure my legs will work any better than my mouth.

  RUSH SQUINTED BENEATH his goggles against the frigid air pelting his face as he raced down the slope. Coach Cunningham’s words rang in his ears. If you can feel your face, you aren’t going fast enough. The coach was a hard-ass, which made him the perfect mentor for Rush, who had grown up under the strict tutelage of his father. Do your best. Be better than every other person in everything you do. He leaned into the curve with his heart slamming against his ribs, and his mind drifted to Jayla. He fought to pull it back to the slopes, knowing damn well that any distraction would cost him time. He hunkered down lower and leaned forward, eking out a little more speed. Racing at speeds upward of fifty miles per hour meant that the smallest mistake could cost him his career in injuries—or his life.

  The lights of the lodge came into view, and he pushed himself harder, drew forth more speed as he hit the last leg of the run, and finally plowed to a stop at the bottom, spraying snow in his wake.

  Coach Cunningham looked at his stopwatch and shook his head.

  Shit. “How bad is it?” He skied over to the coach. His lungs burned from the cold air—a good burn.

  The other team members came in after him, and the coach and his assistant, Chad, clicked off their times.

  Rush knew better than to hound the coach. He’d tell Rush when he was damn good and ready and not a second before. He skied over to Jayla as she took off her goggles, which left marks just below her eyes. She was breathing hard, and she wasn’t smiling.

  “How’d it feel?”

  “Not as good as it should have.” She turned to look at the coach, and Rush didn’t miss the way the coach narrowed his eyes. She shifted her poles to her left hand.

  He had the urge to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay. It wasn’t okay
, and he of all people knew that.

  “Well, then, we did the right thing. You need to train harder and focus more. The last thing you need is me messing with your sexy little brain. Big brain. Shit. Never mind.”

  Another week and the competition season is officially over. One week. That’s all it is.

  Only it wasn’t. Even when they weren’t in training or actively in competition, they lived and breathed for the day they would be. The sadness in Jayla’s eyes told him that she knew it as well as he did.

  “You’ll fix this, Jayla. I know you. You’re just distracted. First there was Marcus; then I came roaring in with feelings you didn’t know were there. And damn it, I knew better.” He shook his head, feeling guilty as hell.

  “Rush.”

  The way she said his name was a halfhearted effort at best, and he didn’t blame her one bit.

  “Jayla, look at me.”

  She lifted her eyes, her lips slightly parted.

  He focused on her eyes, because focusing on her lips would bring his directly to them. He leaned in close. “You sure your shoulder is okay?”

  She rolled her arms backward, as if proving to him it was. Her eyes turned to liquid steel. She wasn’t about to show any sign of weakness. Not even to him. The Jayla he knew had returned, and she’d booted vulnerability to the curb.

  Unfortunately, she might have booted him right along with it.

  Friends. Despite the fissure he felt in his heart, he had to be supportive of her. He wanted to, even if he was hurting. “You’ve worked your whole life to get here.”

  He saw determination in her eyes and in the lift of her chin. When he touched her left shoulder, he felt her gathering strength through the slight pull of her muscles as she drew her shoulders back.

  “All that matters right now is that you fix this,” he said. “Concentrate. Practice until that run feels like fucking heaven. You got it?” His eyes drifted to her shoulder, and he wished like hell he knew what was really going on.