Chapter Two

Wade

The grunt that fell from my lips wasn't exactly planned as I lifted my legs onto the desk. My ribs and left shoulder were still sore from the impact yesterday, a raging headache flaring up my neck and wrapping its fingers around my skull.

"Any plans for more kids, then?"

Jackson laughed over the phone. "God, no. Not right now at least. We've got our hands full with Cassie."

Rubbing my shoulder with the hardest part of my palm, I groaned into the pain. "Yeah, but you can't just raise her without a sibling. I mean, you grew up with Tiana. Surely you'd want the same for your own kid."

"Mandy was an only child and turned out fine." Mandy, Jackson's wife of nearly a year, had been one of my only friends in high school. I spent half my time on the slopes training and the other half barely getting by in classes. She'd taken pity on me, thank God, and after my accident that devoured any chance of me ever competing again, she was the only one I could turn to. Did that mean picking up and moving to New York? Yes. It also meant pursuing a degree, meeting Jackson, and knowing damn well he and Mandy would be suited for one another. "Why are you groaning, anyway? Please tell me you didn't call me mid-session with one of your hookups."

I chuckled, wincing from the pain that shot through my chest. "Absolutely not. I'm not that depraved, Jack. I thought you knew me better than that."

Soft coos and giggles could be heard in the background. "Then what's it about? Fall on the slopes this morning?"

I sunk further in my chair. It was hard to hear things like that, innocent questions about my ability to simply standon my skis. I wasn't anywhere close to my former glory and probably never would be again, but I took a million falls in the past as well. The trophies dotted around the room enclosed behind glass cases stared at me almost in mockery, as if I'd never fallen before today. "Some psychotic ski bunny thought the best way to get my attention would be to crash into me going thirty miles per hour."

"Aww, but I thought you loved your ski bunnies. Isn't it about time for you to settle down with one of them?"

"Ha-ha, Jackson. Love is a strong word." The glimmer of the sun reflecting off a mounted platinum ski caught my eye, and I narrowed my gaze at the writing along it. I knew what it said, of course I did. But it still made me feel like shit. FIS World Cup ? 1st Place. Wade Colchester. "Not like I would actually have a relationship with any of them." Not like I wanted to, anyway.

Jackson grunted his distaste. "Why? They're not bad people."

"Perfect for a good time, not a long time. I'm not looking for anyone anyway."

More adorable giggles poured through the phone, a hiccup, and then Jackson's answering laugh at whatever Cassie was doing. "Not like you'd have any luck anyway. Finding a blonde, leggy woman that knows how to ski and doesn't want you for your status isn't exactly the easiest thing in the world."

If only Jack could see me roll my eyes. "They don't have to know how to ski. They just need to be amiable and have at least half a brain. The rest wouldn't hurt."

He tsk'd over the phone. "So not the psycho ski bunny from earlier, then?"

She popped up in my mind for what was easily the twentieth time today. She wasn't tall, wasn't blonde. From the little bit of hair that had escaped from beneath her helmet, she had curly chestnut hair. Curvy but fairly slim. Had she not had such a nasty mouth on her, I probably would have given her the time of day, even with the blood trickling from her nose onto the snow.

But she just had to go and call me a brute after slamming into me at full speed.

"Absolutely not Blunder Bunny."

————

The early afternoon sun glinted off the snowy hills and peaks outside my resort office's window. "Have all of them shown up?"

"We're only missing one. They called about an hour ago saying they got an offer elsewhere," Holly said, her nose buried in a small stack of paper as she flipped through it. "Why do people make their resumes more than one page long nowadays? It's incredibly annoying."

"Because they're desperate to sell themselves." I chuckled and leaned back in my seat, extending one hand out toward her, palm up. Her glasses slid down the bridge of her nose as her blue eyes locked with mine. "Pass me whichever one you like the most."

"There are only two decent ones," she sighed. Fighting with the papers in her grasp, she slid one out from the stack, inspecting it briefly before placing it into my waiting hand. "Douglas Conway. He has an exceptional amount of experience. He's a former ski champ like yourself and knows the area and this resort well."

"He sounds perfect?—"

"He also has a lengthy criminal history with multiple charges for smuggling cocaine across the Mexican border."

Fucking great."Let me guess. He didn't say that on his cover letter, did he?"

"Of course not," she snorted, flipping through the papers again. "We did background checks on everyone. So if you'd prefer someone who doesn't have ties to the cartel, this…" she slid another resume into my hand, "is the only other good one. Raylene Harleson."

I skimmed the first few lines of her resume as Holly spoke behind me.

"She also has an exceptional amount of experience. Fairly local. Doesn't have a history with skiing, but of course that wasn't a prerequisite."

"Any history of cocaine smuggling?" I joked, my eyes catching on one of her previous employers. James Holman ran that business. Asshole.

"None."

"Bring her in, then." I passed back the resumes to Holly, my gaze lingering a little too long on Raylene's CV. "She can go first."

She nodded, her long black hair falling over her shoulders, and turned to walk toward the door. "Try not to look like you take up the entire room," she added, flashing me a sarcastic grin.

The moments between Holly leaving to retrieve the candidate and coming back felt like an eternity. I'd made a point not to bring my phone into my office this morning—I knew myself better than that. Distractions were inevitable and I needed to be on my A-game. Whoever I hired needed to be someone I'd get along with, someone I'd be able to tolerate being around me the majority of the time. And that meant I needed to be observant, present, and most importantly, likable.

Not that that was difficult with women.

Two pairs of heels clacking against the ground was my only cue that Holly was returning with the candidate in question.

The door opened. One dull pair of khaki slacks and a white button-up, black pin-straight hair, and glasses. Holly. One tight, black skirt that hugged every curve, a white blouse hanging loose around her breasts and tucked in, and a head of neatly set brown curls and eyes that shone like golden honey.

Blunder Bunny.

Fucking hell.

My nostrils flared as she locked gazes with me. Her skin paled in return.

Pushing my chair back, I stood, making my way around the desk. "Raylene Harleson, I presume?" I asked, plastering an award-winning smile on my face as I held my hand outstretched for her. "I'm Wade Colchester."

She blinked up at me, her stature so slight in comparison to my height. Her lower lip, plump and stained dark red, caught itself between her teeth before she spoke. "Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Colchester."

The whites of her eyes were visible from every angle. She couldn't stop staring—exactly like she was the other day when she claimed she wasn't—and I could tell the realization was far more startling for her than it was for me. For me, this was simply a unique turn of events, a hilarious coincidence, but for her, it was more serious. She needed a job.

From the way my mouth was salivating and the way the blood was pooling in my lower half, I definitely thought she needed more than a job. And I probably would have given her a night of morehad she not been such a mouthy little thing on the slopes yesterday.

"Have a seat," I said, stepping out of her way and motioning toward the chair opposite mine. "Let's get this show on the road."

I watched as her jaw moved, a visible gulp shifting the muscles while she stepped around me. The door behind us closed quietly, Holly's usual exit. The leather of Raylene's chair squeaked as it gave way to her hips and thighs when she sat down.

"So, Raylene," I started, making my move from behind her to my own chair. Her eyes followed me every step of the way, a nervous cat too scared to pounce. I curled my fingers around the backside of my office chair, leaning forward over it, taking up more space than I should. Holly's advice be damned.

"It's Ray, if you don't mind."

I nodded. "So, Ray. Tell me," I drawled, the smirk I was holding back slowly making its way to the surface. "Do you know how to ski?"

Chapter Three

Raylene

I was fucked. So entirely, utterly, horribly fucked.

I cleared my throat, sending out a silent fuck you to my ski instructor from yesterday for not saying a word. "No," I said. I forced myself to sound far more confident than I felt. "In all honesty, I feel much more comfortable in a pair of ice skates. But I can learn if that's a necessary prerequisite for the job."

The Brute chuckled and stared me down, his knuckles whitening around the thick leather of his chair before he abruptly released it. "It's not. But I doubt you'd pick it up very easily."

Don't say it. Don't say it. You need this job, Ray. "What's that supposed to mean?" For fucks sake.

"It means that after your performance yesterday, I don't think you'd be capable of standing on two feet in the snow, let alone with skis attached." I watched every muscle in his body move as he sat down in his chair, his elbows on the desk and fingers steepled.

He was every bit the asshole I saw yesterday.

His dark blonde hair was slicked back professionally, much different from his helmet hair on the slopes. The smallest dusting of stubble ghosted his cheeks and jawline, both of which were annoyingly chiseled to perfection. Hard lines made up his entire physique, and even through his suit, I could tell he had an amazing build. Hell, through his snow bibs I could tell. The man clearly worked out and likely spent more of his life out there on the slopes than he did in his office. Lucky me.

"Are you going to ask me genuine questions to find out if I'm qualified for the job or just insult my skiing abilities on my first day trying?"

Long, dark blonde lashes batted at me as he centered himself. "That was your first time?"

I nodded.

"Why were you out there?"

Shit. Might as well be honest. "I was checking out the building. Meeting some of the staff. Trying to get a leg up, really."

He nodded, his gaze wandering toward the window. "That's actually… smart. Really smart." The muscles and tendons in his hand moved as he massaged the hinge of his jaw. "Why do you want to work here? And don't give me any of that standard bullshit as in ‘I love what your company stands for.' Those spiels do nothing for me."

Well, that was unexpected. "Uh," I began, racking my brain for something that didn't sound entirely rehearsed. Spiels were what I was used to in interviews, not necessarily honesty. "I need the money. I'm from Boulder. I'm a good employee and I have the experience."

"I know you do. That's why I brought you in first."

"So you didn't just desperately need to get your irritation out from yesterday?" I joked, daring him to tell me otherwise.

"Obviously I didn't know it was you until you walked in. We didn't exactly exchange pleasantries yesterday." Dark, almost black eyes clashed with mine. "Do you genuinely want this job?"

I shifted in my chair, the leather suddenly more uncomfortable than it was seconds ago. "Need and want go hand in hand."

He exhaled through his nose quickly, a little half-hearted laugh following. "That could apply to so many things, Raylene."

"It's Ray," I repeated, cursing myself internally for not being more restrained. "And please don't make this into something sexual."

Wade leaned forward onto his desk, his smirk growing bigger. "I wasn't." A ringlet of deep blonde hair fell from where it had sat neatly on his head, resting against his brow. "I was talking about your blunder on the slopes. You needed—no, wanted—to crash into me."

I narrowed my gaze. "I definitely didn't."

"Then why did you?"

"I had nowhere else to go," I insisted. "You were in my way."

"So you neededto."

I bit my tongue. I knew where he was going with this.

"You wantedto."

"How is this related at all to the job you're interviewing me for?" I snapped. My fingers tightened around the hard wooden arms of the chair, the pressure pushing against my nail beds. "Is this even an interview? You can just tell me right now if you're not going to give it to me instead of wasting my time."

His brows rose high, little wrinkles deepening on his forehead. "If this were an interview, you're not being very professional, Ray."

I was going to kill him. Right there in his office, blood everywhere, just like how it dripped from my nose onto the pristine snow yesterday morning. I'd do it with his own damn trophy that sat on the bookcase behind him.

I breathed in deep through my nose, then slowly out through my mouth, the same way I did when Mom wasn't doing well and I needed to keep my cool. "Neither are you, Wade."

His jaw hardened, his tongue rubbing against the front of his teeth. "Then maybe this isn't going to be a good fit after all."

"You haven't even given me a chance. You've barely asked me any questions, nor have you given me the opportunity to ask questions of my own. I haven't seen you look down at my resume once?—"

"Because I don't need to."

"Humor me, then. Ask me an actual interview question so I don't feel like every second I've spent in here has been entirely worthless." I didn't bother to hide the venom in my voice. Anger bubbled in my blood, and I wasn't going to leave without at least giving it my best shot, even if I'd most likely ruined my chances before we'd even begun.

He grunted as he tore his gaze from me, looking instead down at my resume. "Why did you leave your last place of employment, Ms. Harleson?"

God fucking dammit.

"I didn't," I answered. I released the arms of the chair, my nails and muscles thanking me, and sat back. "I was fired."

"You're really not selling yourself," he mumbled.

"I was late twiceand had to leave early a handful of times with minimal notice," I explained. "My mom has special medical needs. They weren't very understanding, to say the least."

Wade glanced at me through thick lashes, his fingers thumbing the edge of my resume. "I know James well enough to believe that."

Shit. He knew my old boss?

"He was always an asshole to his employees. We've picked up a few of his spares over the years, mostly to run the hotel side of the resort. But you were working quite closely with him, weren't you?"

I nodded. "Same role as I'm interviewing for now."

"Oh, so you do think it's an interview then?" He lifted his eyes back to me, his smile crooked. "Interesting. Do you have any questions for me?"

I bit my lip, my thoughts starting to mingle together. Should I be honest? Forward? Meek? "Salary. I want to know the salary."

"I believe it was listed on the job post."

"It was. I want it confirmed."

"The current salary for the role is seventy-one thousand," he explained. Fuck, I need this job. The sound of a drawer opening made me jump, and I watched the way his arm moved as he rustled through it. "Overtime is paid at two and a half times the base rate."

"And what are the hours?"

The tendons in his hands flexed as he pushed a small packet of papers across his desk toward me. "It's all in there. Ideally, I'd have you five days a week. I'm flexible on which days those are, but I'd prefer if the days off could be taken together as we have another assistant to fill those."

"You work seven days a week?" I asked, the words falling from my lips before I could stop them. You need this. Don't ask unnecessary questions.

"Not always. But having someone to handle things seven days a week comes in handy."

That made sense. I knew he was a busy guy who likely had emails and phone calls all hours of the day. Unlike James, who only needed help during business hours. You can make it work around Mom. "How many hours per day?"

"Depends on the day. It could change if something comes up last minute." His lips twitched up at the corners, his dark eyes glinting. He knew that wasn't doable for me. He knew. If he hadn't put the pieces together before now, they were certainly heading that way. "You'd need to be available most of the time except for your scheduled days off."

"You're not even considering me, are you?" I blurted.

His brows rose, a little chuckle oozing from his lips. "I never said that."

Something snapped inside of me. This man, this uncaring dickhead, didn't give a shit. He wanted to toy with me, to irritate me, to waste my time because of my brief moment of understandable stupidity yesterday due to inexperience.

I wasn't going to deal with his bullshit. I wasn't going to let him walk all over me. I'd just have to figure something else out, and fast.

"You're clearly implying it." I grabbed my purse from where it sat on the hardwood floor between my feet. "You know that's not something I can do. I made that obvious when you asked why I'd been fired. You're just wasting my time, which is apparently something you care very little about doing."

"That's not?—"

"Don't." Adrenaline pooled in my gut and I tightened my grip on my bag to keep from shaking as I stood. "Good luck finding someone with half of my experience who's willing to put up with you."

"Ray," he barked. One word—my name—enough to make me feel like I needed to sit down and shut up.

But I wasn't a child, and he wasn't my parent. Yes, it was an amazing salary and a cushy job that could fix half of my problems, but it was never really going to be mine to begin with.

My heels clicked against the wood floor as I headed toward his too fancy office door, my fingers wrapping around the handle.

"Ray," he tried again.

But I was already halfway down the hallway, cursing myself and cursing him.