Page 46 of Wedlocked

The line shifted, and it was our turn to push off. We got into position, and I glanced over at Wes. “Meet you at the bottom?”

He nodded.

I adjusted the goggles on my face.

“Maxi?”

I glanced beside me.

“I’ll be careful.”

My stomach did a little somersault. “Thanks, baby.”

“You be careful too.”

“I will,” I said, gruff.

He pushed off before me, and I watched him gain his balance. Then I took off, my skis gliding over the blue-glowing snow.

White-topped trees whizzed by, and the wind was loud in my ears. My cheeks stung, my lips tight from the cold, and my thigh muscles quivered with effort. Fuck, I loved skiing. I realized then it was for some of the same reasons I loved tattooing. Skiing required control and balance. The ability to endure the hard terrain, the challenging face of the mountain and the elements. I liked working my body and quieting my mind to focus.

Leaning in, I glanced out over the pristine trail, the glow from the lights and the darkness above it all. Inhaling some of the crisp fresh air I gazed down the path in front of me, searching for Wes. He wasn’t in my immediate line of sight, but he could have already gone over the hill just ahead.

After another passing glance and not seeing him, I refocused to go over the hill and finish the run, anticipating him waiting for me at the bottom.

9

Wes

You know what annoyed me?Likereallyannoyed me?

When Max got all worried and overprotective and treated me like I couldn’t take care of myself.

And thenI go and prove that maybe he has reason to be that way.

Yeah, hi, it’s me. The one who’s still pretty shitty at taking care of himself.

How’ve you been, bro?

I’ve been good. Well, except for my current situation.

The current situation? Being unable to stop because, in an attempt to avoid a shiny patch of snow, I skied around it, got too close to the bounds of the piste, and, well, I skied right into another patch of ice.

Oops.

Now I was barreling down the mountain right at the tree line, coming scarily close to taking out some of the yellow barrels that marked the run perimeter.

Oh my God, I was about to become like that footballer Romeo Anderson’s wife and get lost in the woods on a ski mountain.

Max would never let me live it down. Instead of one bodyguard following me around, I’d have two. He was going to be worse than a bear with an infected ass if I flung myself into the wilderness.

Focus, Wes.

Panicking was not going to do anything but waste energy. Instead, I refocused and swerved, narrowly missing another barrel. My left ski slid from beneath me, and I did a bit of a split.Yeahhh,I felt that. I mean, I was an athlete, but my parts did not bend that way.

Pulling my legs in, I slammed my poles into the ground, hoping they’d work like an emergency brake.

They didn’t.

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