“I can’t let you sleep on that torture device. You’ll wake up in knots, and I need you to be functional. This is a king bed. We can easily share. We’re adults.”
I climb in on one side, he takes the other. We settle facing opposite directions. It takes a few minutes for each of us to relax. I’m drifting off when I hear his low murmur. “Sleep well, Wynter. We’ll make this happen. I promise.”
Morning light pours through the window, and from outside I hear the truck and plow. He’s already up and working. At the window I see he’s finished in front of the cabin and is heading down the drive to the main road.
By the time he’s done, I have a potato frittata warming in the oven. I’m waiting at the door with a mug of coffee.
He smiles, taking it from me and drinking down half in one go. “Perfect. Thank you.”
“Go shower. Breakfast will be ready when you are.”
Later, he wipes his mouth on his napkin and looks across the table at me. “That was incredible. Thank you.”
I grin back. “Before we leave, you need to change. You can’t go into town wearing your name-branded everything. You said you’re laying low. You’ll stand out.
I nod toward the couch. “I put one of my dad’s flannel shirts and his old coat there. The sleeves might be a touch short. A plain ski cap and the fact that you’ve grown out your beard will help. Jeans are fine, and lots of people spend the money for that brand of boot. And here are a pair of generic snow glasses. Don’t wear yours. Oh, and I found a Yankees cap. Pull the coat hood up over it when we get to town and you’ll look like a local.
He smirks. “What’s my story. Hired muscle… or your boyfriend?”
“Good Point. They’ll know you’re not local and we’re driving in together. You’ll be my boyfriend from Albany. I’ll call you Nick.”
“No—Niko. On the circuit I’m called Vasi. Niko’s just for family. If you need a last name, use Doukas, my mother’s. I do have relatives in Albany, since that’s where we ‘met’. And I do have some carpentry skills, if that helps.”
“That’s perfect. We’ve got this.”
He hesitates. “One more thing. My mom sent a couple photos. If Ed has time… would more new shirts help? Like your brother, I don’t want anything for it. I only want to help the town.”
My heart stutters. “Are you serious?”
He laughs softly. “Yes. Mom even came up with a caption for one.”
“Show me.”
The photo shows him face-down on a snow mound, ski snapped in half. The caption readBefore he broke records, he broke skis. Lots of skis.
“Niko, it’s perfect. Just perfect.” My eyes sting. “I?—”
He touches my arm. “We should go. You said there’s a lot to do, boss.”
At the end of our road sits the rental car, reminding me I need to call the agency. One more nightmare to be dealt with. I handle that while Niko drives to town. The public works department has already cleared the main roads and shop owners are digging out their store fronts.
We stop at the factory first. Ed meets us at the door.
“Ed this is my friend Niko. He’s stepping in because Dom couldn’t make it. You’ve got the all clear on Dom’s shirts, and you should have gotten the signed waiver via email.”
“Yep, that’s already setup and we’re starting the printing now.”
“I think I have more good news. One of Dom’s teammates offered the same deal if you have time and stock. I’ll can get you a waiver this afternoon.”
“I’ve got the shirts and people needing the hours. Come on over to the computer. Send it to me like you did Dom’s. Did he sign it the same way?”
“Yes.”
Let’s see what we have to work with.”
Once he pulls it up, studies the signature scrawled at the bottom and turns to me. “That’s Andreas Vasiliou. He holds the overall speed skiing record.”
“Yes. He and Dom are teammates. He heard about the town and wanted to help.”
