Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Once inside, I’m met by more people and the smell of freshly baked cookies, coming from the large tray sitting by the man-sized fireplace in the foyer.
“Bax,” Chad says, and a man standing at the front desk turns to us. He’s dressed casually in jeans and a North Face sweatshirt. “This is Christian.”
“I knew it,” a woman says from across the room, and I give her a wave with my signature grin, then turn my attention to the man before me, hoping that the fan and her friend don’t come over for photos.
“Pleasure,” he says. “I’m Jacob Baxter, the owner of Whitetail Mountain.”
“The whole mountain?” I ask.
“Aside from the private residences, yes,” he says. “The resort is mine.”
He has a British accent, and I want to know all about how he came to own this resort in Montana, but I hold my questions. We’re being watched, and most likely filmed, and I’d like to get back to the tree house.
“Thanks for loaning me Chad this month,” I say. “He’s awesome.”
“He is,” Jacob replies with a nod. “Let me know if you need anything. Are you staying nearby?”
“In Jenna’s tree houses,” I reply with a nod, and Jacob’s head tilts. “What did I say?”
“Nothing, I’m just surprised my wife didn’t say something. She’s a fan and a good friend of Jenna’s. I figured Jenna would have said something.”
She just had Flint Stone on her schedule. But the fact that she hasn’t called Jacob’s wife since last night is interesting.
“Well, I’d be happy to say hello to your wife sometime.”
Jacob smiles. “You’re not working here, Christian. If she’s around, that would be nice, but this isn’t a photo op. My staff has been instructed to be cool. We get quite a few celebrities here, so it’s not usually an issue, but I reminded all of them. However, I can’t control the clients.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t have security,” Jacob replies quietly, his face sober.
“No,” I admit and push my hand through my hair, then remember we’re being watched and smile confidently. “I’ll be okay. Thank you, though, for thinking of it.”
“Let us know if you need anything.” He turns to Chad. “Keep me posted.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jacob shakes my hand and then marches away, and I immediately lead Chad outside. Staying in one place too long invites people into your bubble.
Always stay on the move.
“I’m calling it a day,” I say and offer my hand to shake. “Thanks again for today. Same time tomorrow?”
“We’re going to have to push it back to seven,” he says grimly. “I know we want to get most of the lesson in before we have a huge crowd, but the sun doesn’t come up that early this time of year, and now that you have your gear, we’ll hit the powder quickly.”
“Seven it is, then. See you tomorrow.”
I walk over to the tree house, glancing around to make sure that I’m not being followed, lean my skis in the area provided just inside, stow my boots, and shed the rest of my gear. I spent about two thousand dollars on all of this today, and I have to admit, it’s pretty badass.
Speaking of badass, staying at a ski-in, ski-out place is convenient. This gear is heavy. I walk into the kitchen and immediately open the fridge for a bottle of water. I pop the top and guzzle it down before tossing the bottle into the recycle bin and reaching for another.
Skiing is done for today, but I still have an hour workout ahead of me.
Staying in shape is vital. I’ve been a physical actor my whole life. Whether it be action roles, dancing roles, or even drama pieces that require me to show my body, I have to be in top physical condition.
I drop to the floor and easily pound out fifty push-ups, then turn over and do fifty sit-ups.
Take a sip of water and move smoothly into burpees.
The only downside of staying at a small resort is that there’s no gym. The skiing works my legs nicely and is great cardio, but I have to work on my upper body, as well.
I’ll have Nina send me dumbbells.
Speaking of Nina, I’m in a three-minute plank when my phone miraculously rings on the floor next to my elbow. Rather than risk dropping the call, I hit accept and put it on speaker.
“Hey.”
“You’re alive! Jesus H. Christ, Christian, I was positive you’d been eaten by a bear or fell off that mountain.”
“And I’m the actor in the family,” I mutter and sit, sipping my water. “I have shit reception up here. But I have Wi-Fi, so texts and email will work.”
“Actually, that’s perfect. I told you to go up there and relax, and if your phone isn’t blowing up all the time, all the better. How is it?”
“Snowy. Cold. But the tree house is cool, and the people are nice so far.”