The moment just turned a little more enjoyable.
Her scent reaches me before her voice, something soft and crisp, like fresh snow layered over citrus.My grip tightens slightly on the glass.
She spots me, gives a slight nod, and walks past to the counter.Orders a glass of wine.She leans one elbow on the bar while she waits.Her jeans hug her shapely figure, caressing every curve like I would.Gosh, I would even trade my place with the team fleece that warms her sensitive neck.
I lift my drink in her direction."You off-duty now?"
She turns, smirks."For fifteen minutes.Then I have to prep for the travel meeting tomorrow.Jet lag briefing."
I don’t need her attention.But for some reason, I want it anyway.The way she looks at me after a race sticks more than the stats.
I nod."Sounds thrilling."
She walks over slowly.Not an invitation.Not a dare.Just… natural.
"Mind if I sit?"
I gesture to the chair across from me."Only if you admit I looked fast on the top split."
"You did," she says, no hesitation."You just didn't keep it."
I smile, but something shifts in my chest, faint, unwanted.Her words hit closer than they should.Not cruel, just honest.That’s worse.
We sit.The silence isn't awkward.It never is anymore.But it's always loaded.
I swirl the drink in my hand and glance at her."You really think second place looks good on me?"
She doesn't flinch.Just lifts her glass to her lips, then lowers it again."Not even you can win all the races."
I lean back in my chair, eyebrows raised."Ouch."
"You'll survive."
We both smile.
The eye contact is held too long.She doesn't look away.Neither do I.
Then she picks up her glass, stands, and says, "Besides… the season's just getting interesting."
And just like that, she's gone, leaving me with the drink, the second place, and the strange certainty that she wasn't talking about skiing.
The words settle into my ribs, warm and dangerous.I finish the beer, but it doesn’t take the edge off.
Chapter 4
The Press Line
Playlist:
Roxette: The Look
Sofia Carson: One Kiss
