Make Me Stay (Men of Gold Mountain)

by Rebecca Brooks

  Good. Let them try to intimidate him. It would be even more satisfying to tell her off to her face than it was to rip up her company’s letters and shove them in the recycling bin.

  Three days a week Austin worked on the ski patrol team before practice, but today was an off day, so he hit the gym in his basement and planned his lessons for the week. He did plyometric jumps and balance holds until his muscles were shaking and he’d purged all thoughts of Kane Enterprises from his mind. Then he showered and ate as he went over the videos from last week’s race.

  Amelia, his top skier, had won by a huge margin. Anyone scanning the times would be thrilled. Amelia Derringer was the best Gold Mountain had ever seen. For the first time in the school’s history, there was an opportunity for a kid from Gold Mountain Academy to race in Park City, Utah, and try for the U.S. Ski Team.

  But to the trained eye, Amelia’s recent victory was a careless win, the seconds between her and silver fewer than they should have been. He’d been going easy on her. That was going to have to change.

  Chloe came up to rest her head in his lap, and he rubbed the soft tips of her ears between his finger and thumb. He felt bad when it was time to rouse her to load up the truck.

  “I’ll be back soon, baby doll,” he promised. “You can come, but it’s cold out there.”

  She poked her nose out the door, but he’d tired her out on their run and she retreated back into the house.

  “That’s what I figured. If that Kane lady comes poking around, don’t forget to growl. Amelia can do it,” he added as he grabbed his keys. “She’s done that same run two seconds faster, and that was on a practice day.”

  Chloe cocked her head, confused as to why Austin was still standing in the doorway. I’m really losing it. So alone he was talking strategy with his dog, trying to figure out the magic words to say to Amelia to remind her she knew how to win.

  No one had ever told him that in his own life. But it didn’t matter that he’d missed his chances. He wasn’t the kind of person who backed down anymore. He wouldn’t let the kids on his team accept defeat.

  And he wouldn’t show a hint of weakness to that damned Samantha Kane.

  Chapter Two

  Sam coasted down the slopes, getting used to skiing again. Getting used to skiing without her dad.

  Surprisingly, she was having a good time. She knew he wouldn’t have wanted her to stay away from the mountain. He would have insisted she keep going without him, even though they’d always skied together.

  The day kept getting better as her confidence on the slopes returned. But every trip up the chairlift took her by a giant clock at the base of the mountain, reminding her she was no closer to sitting down with Mr. Reede.

  This is the last run, she resolved as she squinted up at the afternoon sun. You’ve had your fun. Now it’s time to go in.

  She hopped on the lift, and that was when she spotted the man skiing down.

  Sam had watched plenty of good skiers—her dad was one of them. But she’d never seen anyone ski like the guy coming down the trail. His turns were so fluid it was more like skating, big round S’s making a clean line all the way down.

  But it wasn’t just the turns. It was the gracefulness, the confidence, an essential now-ness in the way his body moved. She couldn’t figure out what he was doing on a normal run with normal people like her until she saw the trail of skiers snaking behind him, mimicking his turns. The five girls had Gold Mountain Race Club stitched in gold lettering on their matching blue jackets.

  When Sam got to the top of the lift, she turned down the same run where she’d seen him, as though she could soak up some of his skill through osmosis alone. She wasn’t sure she’d catch them, but she was in luck. They were clustered on the top of a knoll, the girls standing in a horseshoe while the man demonstrated something in the middle. She stopped above them, pretending to take a break on the run as she tried to listen in.

  Like the girls, the coach wore racing skins with a bright spiderweb design. He had a fitted fleece vest over the top, partially unzipped. Sweat dampened his chest. He was wearing a helmet and goggles so she couldn’t see his face, but she could say with certainty that the scruff along his jawline worked plenty well. That, along with the fact that every muscle in his thighs showed through the racing skins, made her slide shamelessly closer to where the group stood.

  Not that she was seriously on the market. But she could look, couldn’t she? Out of the office, out on the prowl, and—for a few hours at least—just a regular red-blooded woman enjoying her day.

  She was surprised when the coach held out his hands and gathered the poles from the girls. He stuck them on the side of the trail and motioned for them to watch. Sam had no idea what he was doing—what racer didn’t use poles? But then he began to ski.

  His body crouched low as he crossed the trail. As his weight shifted and he began to rotate, everything lifted. His arms, unencumbered by the poles, rose like wings. He brought his hands fluidly overhead and then settled down into a tuck, only to spring up again around the next curve. He made it look effortless, as though he were floating, his whole body heaving a sigh. It was something Sam had never seen or thought about before, not just good skiing but beautiful skiing, a strong, graceful dance across the snow.

  The man came to a stop and watched the girls as one by one they tried to imitate his movements. They were awkward, still learning flight, but Sam could see how the exercise forced them to reconsider their weight, their relationship to their skis and their own bodies. They were lighter, somehow. More connected to the snow. The team gathered around the coach, and he set off again. This time, they followed directly in his tracks. They snaked down the run in a long line, a single organism turning and rising at the same time.

  Sam latched on to the end, following along. She still had her poles, and she didn’t want to draw attention to herself by raising her arms overhead, but she let her legs come up and her breath fill her with each turn. The timing was different than what she was used to. She felt herself shift into the next arc before she’d finished the last, so that she never really ended a turn but flowed into the next. It was such a simple shift and yet it changed everything. When she veered away from them at the bottom of the trail she felt like laughing, her whole body buoyant and filled with light.

  There was no way she could go inside now. She had to practice that new shift to her weight, the swell of the turns. She’d already taken the day off anyway. Surely a few more hours wouldn’t hurt.

  Sam wasn’t sure she’d see the ski group again, but a few runs later she found herself turning down a new trail and there they were, the same gold embroidered on blue jackets, the same gorgeous man with the spiderweb skins hugging his thighs. She knew the men in her office complained she didn’t take direction well, but that only meant she didn’t fawn over their half-baked ideas. If a coach with an ass like that ever wanted to instruct her on anything, she was sure he’d find her plenty teachable.

  They were going down a racecourse section by section, practicing the moves they’d been working on before. Blue and red flags flapped in the breeze, the gates spaced out over even intervals. Sam stayed at the top and watched the girls ski. The coach called to them as they went, giving notes about where to shift their weight, offering praise when they got to the bottom. It made Sam think, with both a smile and a pang, about her father, how he used to push her and encourage her at the same time. For a while after he died she thought she’d never be able to put her skis on again.

  But here she was, surrounded by bright fields of snow, and she knew the young women on this team were going to remember their coach’s words for the rest of their lives.

  The last one to tackle the gates was far and away the best. It wasn’t only that she was faster. It was more the way she carried herself. She didn’t ski like the coach, relaxed even when his muscles were straining. She skied with fierceness, desperate to spring free.

  “Forward!” the coach called. “Push down thro
ugh your toes!”

  The girl shifted and everything erupted in front of Sam’s eyes. The girl flew in the air, her boots ejected from the skis. Her body was a blur of color as she somersaulted and landed with a thud.

  The coach and the rest of the team were well below the fallen girl. Sam sprang into action and skied down. She pulled to a stop and popped out of her skies next to the girl. She had on a helmet, thankfully, but there was blood on her face and a bright smear of it across the snow.

  “Are you okay?” Sam asked as she knelt down. The girl’s shoulders racked with sobs and Sam couldn’t tell if she was nodding or simply shaking all over.

  “Say something,” Sam prodded.

  “I’m fine,” the girl choked.

  Sam wasn’t convinced, but she waved down to the coach, who was shouting, “Amelia!” in a panic and trying to climb up to reach her.

  “She’s okay,” Sam called, and turned back to the girl. “Is it broken? How much does it hurt?” She helped her sit up and fished in her pocket for a tissue.

  Amelia pulled off her gloves and touched around her nose. “I don’t think I broke anything. I’ve done that before. This doesn’t feel like that.”

  “Press the tissue around the bridge to stop the bleeding,” Sam instructed.

  “You don’t have to stay,” Amelia said. “Tell Austin it’s fine.”

  “Austin?” Sam asked. She tried not to let her panic register. There could be plenty of people in Gold Mountain named Austin. Maybe even more than one coach by that name.

  But she knew it was unlikely.

  Fuck.

  “My coach,” Amelia said. “He’ll go crazy if he thinks I’m injured.”

  “It’s too late, he seems to already be losing it. Nothing’s broken!” Sam called down the hill. She had to act normally. She couldn’t very well introduce herself to him this way, without any of the power of her company name behind her.

  At least she was wearing a helmet and ski clothes. If she showed up to a meeting in a suit, heels, and her game face on, she doubted he’d recognize her.

  It wasn’t like he was paying attention to her anyway. Sam’s reassurances had only made Austin redouble his efforts to climb up the mountain on his skis. It wasn’t until Sam got an unsteady Amelia back on her feet that he stopped and waited for them to ski down.

  They pulled into a hockey stop next to him. “Let me see,” he said, and gently lifted away the bloodied wad of tissue, one hand holding Amelia’s face, the other pressing around the bridge of her nose to see if she winced. Finally he shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s just as I suspected.”

  Amelia’s eyes widened. Austin heaved a dramatic sigh. “It looks like it’s going to be death by bloody nose.”

  Amelia whacked him.

  “Your punching muscles work, so you must be okay,” he said, then looked over to Sam with a smile. “Thanks for helping. I really appreciate it.”

  So he was gorgeous, athletic, funny, and incredibly kind? Sam wished she were the one submitting to his ministrations—minus the bloody nose and the whole part about having to relive high school while busting her ass on a competitive ski team.

  She was going to have to rethink her entire approach to this meeting. She didn’t think strong-arming him was going to work. She wasn’t even sure she’d be able to do it. He’d distract her just by walking in the door. She’d completely lose her usual edge.

  She could use this to her advantage, though. When she saw him later, why not act surprised and introduce herself as the woman who helped him on the mountain? He might realize she wasn’t some monster threatening his turf. He might decide there was, in fact, a price she could offer that would make him change his mind.

  “It’s no problem,” Sam said warmly and put a hand on Amelia’s shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Amelia sniffled, not quite nodding, not quite saying no, either.

  “You were getting your weight down,” Austin said, demonstrating on his own skis. “It felt different because you were in the right position on that last turn. We’ll practice holding it so you can get used to how to take that corner with speed.”

  “Okay. But I’m still gushing blood?” Amelia held up the crimson wad of tissues growing less useful by the minute.

  Austin lifted his goggles, squinting down the trail at the girls waiting at the base of the run. Sam had been eager to see what he looked like, but as soon as she saw him she had to dart her eyes away, her cheeks warm in the cold bite of air. Austin didn’t just ski beautifully. He was beautiful, with large green eyes and a strong jaw accentuated by a short beard that drew attention to his lips. The two stern worry lines wrinkling his brow only added to the picture. If Sam had been in the middle of a turn when she first saw the face that went with that body, she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to keep her legs up.

  But if he noticed Sam staring, he didn’t show it. He was entirely focused on his charge. “You know I can’t cut you loose before the bus comes,” he said.

  “Come on.” Amelia scowled. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can. But you’re seventeen and a student, and I’m still responsible for you.”

  “What if I take her inside?” Sam interjected. She was trying to make a good impression, but it was more than that. The kid was bleeding, and Austin’s hands were tied.

  Amelia and Sam both turned to look at her. “I don’t mind,” she went on. “The lifts are going to close soon anyway.”

  Austin was already saying no, but Amelia begged him. “I’ll have someone there, so it’s not like you let me go early,” she argued.

  Austin looked at Sam. She could tell he was torn. “Promise me you’re not some crazy kidnapper?”

  “What if you take my number?” Sam offered, pulling out her phone as though her motives were totally selfless. “We’ll go down to the lodge and get cleaned up, and by the time you guys are done with practice we’ll be ready to go.”

  Sam thought Austin might not have a phone on him, since everything fit him so well there was no place he could hide yet another bulge. But he pulled off a glove, worn and wrapped with duct tape around the fingers and across the palm, and unzipped the pocket of his vest. Out came a small, beat-up flip phone.

  “It’s Sam,” she said after she took his number and texted him hers.

  “Oh, right.” Austin grinned over that minor detail he’d forgotten. “I’m Austin.”

  Sam grinned back. “I know.”

  His smile seemed to light a flame in her, a warmth that started in her core and blazed out. She had to remind herself she needed his cell number for work—not to get in his bed. She’d better not forget to change her voicemail greeting, so he wouldn’t wind up with a nasty surprise if he called. Keeping the upper hand meant controlling all information. He’d know her full name when she was good and ready to tell.

  Then he reached out to shake her hand, and she felt good and ready for something far different from the meeting she’d come here to schedule with him. It felt foolish that such a simple thing could make her pulse play tricks, but there was no denying it—his touch alone made her heart trip over itself. His skin was warm but in a pleasant way. It reminded her of how he skied, how strong he was.

  By now Sam wished she weren’t wearing ski pants and a helmet. Or surrounded by a ring of teenage girls ogling them. Or preparing to meet him in a totally different setting, where he wouldn’t be nearly as happy to be shaking her hand.

  The reminder of why she was here helped bring Sam back to reality. She dropped his hand.

  “Well, that settles that,” she said. “We’ll be inside. See you in a few. Amelia?”

  They skied down and went into the lodge. Amelia headed straight for the bathroom. Sam paused. Should she follow? Leave her alone? But Amelia didn’t give her a choice. “If you’re my babysitter, then aren’t you supposed to be coming?” she called without turning around.

  Sam had just wanted a quiet day away from the office before meetin
g with the elusive Mr. Reede. A Mr. Reede who was supposed to be difficult and recalcitrant but would ultimately prove amenable to reason. Not a Mr. Reede whose green eyes, stubble, and thigh muscles made reason vanish from her mind. How had she gotten into this mess?

  Still, she wet paper towels and gave them to Amelia, who wiped the blood crusting around her nostrils and blotted her puffy eyes. “Why are you being so nice?” she asked.

  “Me?” Sam was used to people calling her plenty of things, but nice wasn’t one that usually got a lot of airtime.

  Amelia laughed. “You’re like Austin, way too nice to people. He’s always trying to take care of everyone on the team, and now you’re like—you don’t even know me but you stopped skiing to help me. Nice, you know?”

  Sam shrugged. Was she nice? Really?

  Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She’d turned it off silent, and now she pulled it out, thinking it was Austin. But of course there was no such luck. Another text message from Jim. Why had she ever gotten into bed with him?

  She knew why, and it was two words: “pinot” and “noir.” Before she knew it, the whole thing had spiraled out of control. But when she saw his name pop up on her phone, the first thing she thought of wasn’t his wide face or his booming voice or his hand on the small of her back, steering her around a room as though she were the prize and not the reason all those CEOs were congregated in the first place.

  No, the thing that came to mind was stubble on a strong jaw and green eyes pierced with concern.

  “Is that my coach?” Amelia asked, as though Sam had a giant Austin sign flashing over her head. For all Sam knew, she did. Every girl on the team must have had a raging crush on him. They must know exactly what Austin-face looked like.

  Sam shook her head to rid herself of thoughts of Austin and his beard scraping her skin. “No.”

  Amelia raised an eyebrow. “Is it your boyfriend?”

  “No,” Sam said way too fast. “Definitely not.”