Mountain Delights (Wild Mountain Men 2)

Cy gave me another look, one that said don’t fuck with her. Clearly, they were exhausted and frazzled. What a nightmare. I had to hope we could all laugh about it. Later.

Now, it was time for all of us to crash. Hard.

“Really.”

“How did this happen?”

“Two words,” Cy said. “Hot tub.”

Oh shit. Now I really wanted to laugh, but knew I’d be killed on the spot, and I had a feeling it would be a joint effort on their part.

“Move over and make room for me. I want to hold my girl.”

I went to Hailey’s side of the bed and climbed in. Cy moved over to make room, and I pulled Hailey into my arms so I was wrapped around her. I sniffed as she rested her head on my bicep. “Nope, no skunk.”

“That was awful and I’m so tired,” she whispered, snuggling in. My dick liked it but now was not the time.

I looked to Cy who was staring at Hailey. He reached out, stroked her cheek and said, “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be right here.”

He dropped down onto his pillow, threw the blanket over all of us and closed his eyes.

They might not have had the night they wanted to get to know each other, but it seemed they had anyway. The way Cy had looked at her, the way Hailey just nodded in response and snuggled into me, they were tight now, tight in a way perhaps good sex couldn’t have done.

10

HAILEY

I was cranky. It had been five days since the skunk incident and since then, I’d grown more and more restless. Irritable. Not because I smelled, because that had been resolved, thank God.

I could confront a mountain and ski the hell out of it, but I couldn’t confront someone else. I hated confrontation. I didn’t want to race anymore. I’d known that for months. I’d been kicking that can down the road, avoiding it, avoiding Mark.

I didn’t want to say the words aloud to myself, let alone him. He was going to be pissed. Yell at me for throwing my career away. Wasting my talent. I was too young to give up. Besides my knee, I was healthy, and my knee had recovered enough to ski again. It could take the abuse; the doctors had said so. I probably wasn’t even at the peak of my career. He saw more championship wins, more sponsorships, and he was probably right. More money for me, but more importantly, for him.

I was his meal ticket.

I never cared about the money. Fine, it was definitely a perk, but I had enough now. I didn’t live lavishly. Hell, I drove a SUV that was older than me. I could walk away. Be a coach myself, get a gig as a commentator on a sports channel for the sport. Work in the ski manufacturing industry. I had plenty of opportunities off the slope.

Or I could get back out there, ski the shit out of the hill, as Cy had put it. I’d wiped out before, recovered and got back on that lift. Did it all over again, faster and better.

What had changed?

Me.

I still craved that rush, that desperate need to control the mountain, my skis, even me. I was also scared. Scared to fall. To fail. To get hurt even worse.

I had Lucas and Cy. I loved what we had together, what we could become if given time, and that scared the hell out of me. I wanted to give up my racing career for two men.

It went against every feminist bone in my body.

Racing again would take me away from them, from the life we were slowly building. It hadn’t even been a week, but I didn’t want it to stop. But it could be yanked away just as quickly as I’d fallen on that rough turn. I was putting my heart in the hands of two men, and they had the ability to crush it. I shouldn’t want them. I should be back in the Springs, working my ass off.

I should be at training camp, then I’d jet off to the first race and never look back, not getting back to Cutthroat until the snow melted. April, if I was lucky.

April. Ugh.

But even knowing what Lucas and Cy could do to me, I wanted to quit. I was done. I’d lost the edge. The focus.

I had to meet with Mark to tell him. I dreaded it. He was intense, which was good as a coach. I needed his intensity, his drive. It matched mine, perhaps even more so. I didn’t mind all that aimed at me before a race, but now? It wasn’t going to be pretty. He’d hate me.