Page 70 of The Groupie

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As soon as the plane lands in Utah, I text Chuck. Not that I’m anxious to see him, but I want to make sure he saw the report from Dr. Yancey. Almost immediately after I hit send, as I walk through the airport to the exit, he calls.

“I got your email. Checked out the report. I’ve seen sketchier results.” He pauses. “We can talk when you get here. For now, you still have a seat on the plane to Milan, Italy, if you want to risk it.”

“Of course, I’ll risk it. No strings attached?”

He sucks in a breath. “There were never any strings. Not unless you count my heartstrings.”

I laugh. “What heart?”

“I’ll show you if you’ll let me.”

I’m too tired to argue. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen to pick you up at the airport. Wait for me.”

I don’t argue. I’m not proud of taking advantage of the ride he’s offering, but my energy gave out halfway through the flight when I couldn’t stop the tears. Fucking tears.

I broke my own number one fucking rule over Zak Tomas, a professional hockey player. No crying.

It doesn’t take long before we arrive at the USANA Center for Excellence in Park City, or it feels that way because I fell asleep. Chuck insists on carrying my bag inside and I follow, still groggy as he walks down a hallway and opens the door to a two-room suite. I walk inside and collapse on one of the two beds.

Then I pop up again and level an accusing look at him as he sits on the edge of the bed, smiling. “Whose room is this? Mine or yours?”

“What difference does it make?”

“Plenty. I’m not staying with you.” I push him away and get off the bed.

“It’s my room, but you were so tired, I figured it would be easiest to let you rest here instead of going through the hassle of checking in.”

He sounds reasonable. He always sounds so reasonable, but I know what he wants because he makes no attempt to hide it. Like right now as he stands and slides his arms around me.

That’s when someone knocks on the door and Chuck calls out to come in because he’s Coach and has a literal open-door policy.

Only it’s not a member of the women’s Olympic snowboarding team who walks in the room.

It’s Zak.

Chuck immediately tightens his hold on me. But I’m too preoccupied watching the stormy expression on Zak’s face like I’ve never seen before, like he’s about to go supernova and break heads. Chuck’s head.

“You’re with him?” His voice is fierce and quiet and sends a chill of fear and excitement down my spine and straight to my pussy. When will I stop reacting to him this way?

“No,” I say and pull away from Chuck.

Chuck moves in front of me, closer to Zak, apparently unaware of the danger, unimpressed with the man twice his size and packed with hockey muscle, looking for a place to unwind. “What if she is? It’s no business of yours.”

Zak ignores Chuck and turns to me. “I called Mamma Cass to see how she was doing.” His voice shakes and I push Chuck out of my way and go to him.

“I…” I have no idea what to say to make this better. My heart thunders and my head hurts with the emotions whirling inside me like I’m caught in an avalanche about to tumble out of control.

“She told me you left, that you came here and gave me your contact information, or I wouldn’t have… I thought it would be all right.”

I nod.

“It’s not all right,” Chuck growls and tries putting an arm around me, but I pull away from him again. He stares at Zak. “This is my room and you’re not welcome here.”

Zak sucks in a breath and looks back and forth between us once, then he turns and slams the door on his way out.