So, it’s going to be a lot of fun showing him who’s the boss…because it sure as shit isn’t him anymore. Not here, at least.
While Grey drones on about the schedule, the format for the competition, etc., I take in every inch of my idol that my greedy eyes can see. If Renner ishot,Connor is quietly, confidently sexy. No one in our sport is particularly bulky, and Connor’s frame is currently buried under multiple layers, but I remember what I saw in the bar last night when he shed his coat.
It’s evident he’s spent a large amount of his hiatus from boarding in the gym.
His stomach is flat, and his chest and arms are huge. His short brown hair is messy in a stylish way. His stance is confident, and his hands are in his pockets, pressed against the tree trunks he calls thighs. To my teammates, he probably looks relaxed, but I see the tension in his shoulders.
I’m still perusing my prey when Grey wraps up the meeting.
“All right, I think that’s all for now. Why don’t you guys grab some breakfast and pair off with your primary coaches to get to know them better?”
Chairs scoot across the carpeted floor as my teammates rush the food lines, but I stay seated as I prepare to shake hands with my idol for the second time in my life.
A mix of emotions swirls within me.
Logically, I know my abandonment issues have nothing to do with Connor and everything to do with my parents making a hasty exit from my life, my grandmother dying, and having no close friends, butillogically, part of me is still pissed at him for dropping off the face of the planet when I looked up to him so much and needed the security his talent provided for me.
It was like, if Connor competed, Iknewhe’d win. And if he could get that good, so could I. I studied his style, his moves, and his training program. Hell, I even researched the gear he used. I wanted everything he had.
And then he was justgone.
And I was on my own again.
So, as excited as I am to work with him, I’m hesitantbecause I’m bringing baggage and resentment to the table that he knows nothing about.
In an effort to protect myself as best I can, I give himmedia-ready Vox. The surface-level shit he probably expects from me and the version that’s hellbent on cracking his armor before removing my own.
Snapping a cocky smile into place, Renner and I move toward him.
I let Renner do his introduction first. He’s practically vibrating next to me, and if I’m honest, I’d prefer to have my moment privately.
“Gentlemen,” Connor says, addressing us both, holding his hand out for Renner, who clasps it immediately.
“Oh man, it’s such an honor, dude…uh, Connor…uh, sir,” he corrects. Connor’s lips twitch in analmost-smile as his cobalt eyes travel to mine over Renner’s shoulder.
Once Renner finishes verbally vomiting all over him, Connor politely says, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Gentry. I look forward to working with you this season.”
Before Renner can respond, Tasha calls him over to the breakfast line, leaving Connor and me alone for our introduction, giving me the privacy I’d craved for this moment. Grey catches my eye and nods, and suddenly, the nerves come rushing in. Grey knows I’ve idolized Connor my entire career, and I can’t help but wonder if he brought Connor on formespecifically, to ease the burden of the new team format that he knows I’m less than thrilled about.
My chest grows tight at the thought, reminding me that Idohave someone in my corner. Suddenly, my plan to be an arrogant dick doesn’t sit so well with me, and I rein it in a little.
Connor holds his hand out to me. When I clasp it, he pulls me in and slaps my back like we’re long-lost friends. The way his solid chest feels bumping against mine distracts me…a lot.
Pulling away a second later, he nods and says, “Vox Montgomery. It’s an honor.”
Hearing my name fall from this man’s lips instantly has my cock reacting. AndChrist,he smells good. The familiarity of him catches me by surprise, and I huff out a laugh, trying to ignore the disappointment I feel that he obviously doesn’t remember our first meeting.
“I’m pretty sure that’s my line,” I say smoothly after taking too long to regain my composure.
Ignoring my statement, he releases me and motions toward a table. “Shall we sit?”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” I stutter, taking a vacant seat at a nearby table. Being in his presence is fucking with my brain.This is Connor-fucking-Lang, for Christ’s sake.
“So,” he starts casually, “Grey tells me you and Renner are entering individual and team events for snowboard cross and parallel slalom, is that right?” he asks, crossing one leg over the other, making no comment about how those have always been his events as well.
Connor’s in dark jeans and a tangerine-colored Patterson Performance pullover, and I’m trying like all fuck not to drool on his pant leg right now.
“Uh, yeah. That’s the plan,” I confirm, silently willing my mind to get on board the mentor-mentee train andoffwhatever debauched locomotive I’ve found myself on instead.
