“You expect me to believe you didn’t go plead your case to Carter?” There’s no venom in his tone as he spins away and grabs for a box on a shelf along the back wall. It's just out of his reach, and before I have time to weigh the pros and cons of helping him my body is pressed against his to retrieve it.
His smaller frame goes still, causing me to freeze, too. The woodsy shampoo floods my nostrils again, and my chest goes all warm and tingly where it meets his back. It’s… not as unpleasant as it should be. Yet despite knowing it’s wrong, despite my brain screaming at my limbs to move, I linger there long enough for my cock to take notice of his round ass.
The realization that my junk is coming to life has me in full retreat, and I back up until I hit the counter, putting as much distance as possible between us. When he finally turns around, I thrust the box toward him with a little half-shrug. “I don’t give a shit what you believe, Frosty. I’m just here to do my time and get out.”
That puts a scowl back on his face, thank God.
“How the hell did I end up reporting to you, anyway. You seem a little young to be in charge.” I’m grasping, but I need to get us back to our little pissing match, so I don’t dwell on what just happened.
“Age has nothing to do with experience.” He snatches the box away from me.
“Spoken like a man still trying to prove himself.”
“Or like someone who works for a living instead of expecting handouts.” He lifts the lid and digs through the contents so furiously I can’t help thinking he’s not actually looking for anything so much as trying to appear busy.
“You think I expect handouts?” I get a full breath now that we’re back on familiar ground, and lean against the counter with crossed arms, daring him to retort.
“I think you believe your actions shouldn’t have consequences.”
My lungs seize up as the words leave his mouth, and the aftermath of all my recent decisions scroll through my mind like a film reel.This little game just got too serious. “I know more about consequences than you ever will, Frosty.”
I can tell my grim tone confuses him, but before he can call me on it the door bangs open and a couple with a young son rushes in from the cold. They’re carrying a bunch of gear, so I’m not prepared for them to come in my direction. But the kid swings his head my way for a split second before stopping cold, jaw hanging open.Shit.
“Ryder Vorhees?” His little eyes grow wide as my heart morphs into a skittish beat in my chest.
This is the part of riding pro I liked; the fans. Especially the little kids who look at you like you’re their hero. But I’m no hero, not now, and I’m not prepared to act like one.
My throat is suddenly parched, my lips dry, and I grip the counter to hold myself steady. I know what Ineedto do, though my body won’t respond. I can’t make my mouth form words. All I can do is nod, and hope the scowl directed at Hayden isn’t still plastered on my face.
The kid wobbles toward me with a giddy smile on his face. From the corner of my eye, I see Hayden drift back with a stunned look—guess Carter didn’t mention I’m kinda famous in certain circles. I’d find that amusing if I wasn’t on the verge of passing out.
Please don’t ask about racing. Please don’t ask about racing.
“Are you gonna be my instructor?” the kid asks.
Though my pulse is still racing, the wave of nausea starts to recede as his words register. “Nah,” I clear my throat. “I’m just helping behind the counter here.”
“Oh.” His little face falls. “I thought maybe I’d get to ride with you.”
“Sorry, buddy.” I’m shocked to find I kind of mean that, but rush on before I can dwell on it. “They’ve already got teachers for that.”
“Who would be better than you? You’re a pro. And I wanna race one day like you.”
“That’s great.” I offer what I hope is a genuine smile, though my lips still feel too numb to know for sure.
The kid’s parents try to usher him toward the lockers, but after a few stilted steps he turns to face me. “Hey, wait. If you’re here, does that mean you aren’t racing this year? Are you hurt?”
Bile threatens to rush up my throat, but I swallow it down, licking my lips nervously when the danger has passed. “I just needed a little break from the snow.”
“Isn’t that what summer is for?” He cocks his head comically to the side, and it’s such an innocent gesture, so purely confused instead of probing for answers, I feel the corner of my lip tick upward in a mixture of amusement and relief.
“Usually, but not this year.”
He doesn’t get it, but his parents successfully drag him away by warning that he’ll be late if they don’t hurry and change. He gives me a tiny wave, which I mimic easily, before disappearing down the hall. Then I drop my head to the counter before Hayden can see my face. I’m not sure what it would say, I just know I don’t want to open that door.
Chapter eight
Hayden
