2. 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?"