Slashed (Extreme Risk 3)

“You laugh, but that just might be far enough. Maybe.” She shudders.

Shit. She’s really nervous. I think of everything I have to do today, then ask, “you want me to come with you?”

“You don’t have to do that, Luc.”

“I know I don’t have to. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to say yes, but if you want me to be there, I’ll totally come.”

She lifts her head then, and looks at me. Really looks at me. I keep my eyes steady on hers, and hope I’m not revealing too much.

“Don’t you have something else to do today?”

About a million things, but none of them are as important as being there for Cam if she needs me. “Not a thing,” I lie blithely even as I mentally rearrange my day.

Her smile, when it comes, is more than worth the hassle.

“Then I would love it if you would come.”

“Okay, then. Give me two minutes to get dressed and we’ll be out of here.”

“I do have one more request,” she tells me as I pull my SUV into traffic ten minutes later.

“Sure. What is it?”

“When we get to Salt Lake City, can we please stop at Target and get me some underwear? Going commando’s not really my thing.”

Chapter 7

Cam

“So, what are you going to do about snowboarding clothes?” Luc asks as we get close to the address our agent, Mitch, gave me for the shoot. “Since we didn’t go back to your place, do you want me to run to REI and pick you something up?”

“They told me they’d have everything there—I mean, except underwear, obviously,” I say, holding up the Target bag I’m clutching like a lifeline. I really hope I don’t sound as nervous—and as nauseated—as I feel. “I just need to show up by ten o’clock.”

“Looks like you’re right on time.” He shoots me a grin as he makes one final turn and then we’re cruising up a long, winding driveway that ends in front of a huge, elegant house that would definitely give Z’s a run for its money.

“Are we sure this is the right address?” I ask, glancing at my phone, and the address in my text messages, for what has to be the millionth time since we left Park City. “I thought I’d be at a photography studio or something.”

“I think they change it up for everyone,” he tells me with a reassuring smile. “Z did one shoot at a resort in Aspen, then another at his house in Park City. And Ash did his in L.A., I think.”

“Oh, right.”

You’d think the fact that two of my best friends have already been on American Snowboarder covers would have made me less nervous—instead, it just makes me freak out a little more. Z and Ash are totally hot—not to mention the most amazing snowboarders I’ve ever seen. I mean, I know I’m good on a snowboard, especially for a girl, but still, I’m not in their class. And I’m definitely nowhere near as good-looking as they are. Girls swoon whenever Luc, Ash, and Z show up anywhere. As for me…well, no one’s ever swooned when they see me. I’m just one of the guys. Always have been, always will be.

Except I wasn’t one of the guys last night, a little voice whispers in the back of my head as Luc pulls his Range Rover to a stop at the top of the driveway. Last night, Luc treated me like a girl—and not just any girl, but a girl that he totally desired. A girl that totally made him hot.

I still can’t believe it.

The first time we slept together everything went to hell. I admit that was mostly my fault, since I’m the one who freaked out about it. But that was because I was still in love with Z at the time, still determined that one day he would wake up and really see me. I gave that hope up a while ago, not long after Ophelia showed up on the scene, and somehow that makes this thing with Luc—whatever it is—a lot easier to handle. I know we’re going to have to talk about it at some point, but I’m in no hurry. Not when things seem to be going okay between us for the first time in a really long time. And if it’s the calm before the storm…I’ll deal with it. After the photo shoot is over.

Until then, I’m putting it on the back burner. And ignoring the little voice in my head that keeps reminding me that he turned me down when I tried to start something this morning. If I let myself think about that—and worrying about whether he was telling the truth about not having condoms—I’ll end up losing my mind. And since I’m already skating close to that edge, I figure avoidance is totally a valid choice.

“You okay?” Luc asks, and that’s when I realize I’ve just been sitting here in a parked car, not moving, for God only knows how long.

“Yeah, of course. Absolutely.”

“You’ve got this,” he tells me for the second time and his confidence warms me, despite my fears. Because even if I don’t actually have this, for the first time in a long time, Luc has me. And that makes all the difference.

At least until we get to the house and the front door flies open and a harried-looking woman beckons us inside.