Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
She was right. That was me. It had started out as me clowning around but had quickly become a signature move I did on runs where I could afford to lose time or points. “Did you by chance go to Colorado State?” I asked.
She snapped her fingers and pointed at me again. “That’s it. Yes. But you went on to ski professionally, right?”
I nodded and set the empty pitcher on the bar, raising my hand to get the bartender’s attention. “I did for a short time, but now I’m an instructor.”
She smiled at me, flashing straight, white teeth in a pretty face. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a long ponytail with loose wisps framing her face. She and her friends were definitely attractive, but it didn’t do anything for me at all.
Maybe there was something wrong with me. Or maybe it was normal not to be attracted to anyone after being jilted so recently.
I made friendly conversation with the three of them while waiting for the beer refill, but when the bartender handed me the full pitcher, I gave my polite goodbyes and turned to go back to my friends. The man who’d been eying Julian stopped me.
He was a good-looking guy, maybe my height or a little taller, and his smile was friendly and a little hesitant. I hadn’t realized before now that he seemed to have no interest in the three beautiful women sitting close to him at the bar.
“Hey. Look, I’m sorry to bother you, but do you mind if I ask about your friend? He’s kind of gorgeous, and I’d like to buy him a drink.”
“Finn?” I asked, deliberately being obtuse.
“Is that his name? The one in the Tom Ford sweater.”
Normally, I wouldn’t have known a Tom Ford anything from a hole in the wall, but in this case, Julian had lectured me about not getting near his Tom Ford with my “nasty lotion hands” after I’d helped myself to his fancy hand cream earlier. I’d made a joke about cream on my hands that he hadn’t found remotely funny.
“Oh, no. That’s Julian,” I said, feeling my jaw tighten.
“Would you mind giving me an introduction?”
I felt a flapping panic in my chest. “Um… well…”
What the hell was wrong with me? Why shouldn’t Julian enjoy a hookup the same way everyone was encouraging me to? Just because I didn’t want to pick someone up didn’t mean he couldn’t. I needed to get over my selfish hang-up about Julian hooking up with other men—
Whoa, wait. Other men? Where had that come from? I meant with men, period.
Any men.
Because obviously he wasn’t hooking up with me.
I swallowed hard.
The man sensed my hesitation. “Is he into guys?”
“Oh, yeah, totally. He’s gay.”
His face lit up. “And is he open to—”
“He’s mine,” I blurted, not knowing where the fuck that came from. “Mine, um… like… my man? So, no. No, he’s not open to…”
The guilt clawed at me. This was wrong, unfair. And completely unacceptable. Tell him you lied. Tell him Jules is available.
I cleared my throat. “I mean… yes, he’s available, but…”
The man held up both hands and took a step back. His face still held a friendly smile. “Hey, man. No worries. Sounds complicated. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, it’s fine,” I said, scrambling. “I was kidding. I meant he was my best man. You see, I was supposed to get married last night. To a woman. But that’s not important. Come on, I’ll introduce you. He’s really great. Truly.”
He shook his head good-naturedly. “Nah, it’s fine. Clearly I touched a nerve. I don’t want to mess with that. Besides, I have an early day tomorrow. I’m just going to head out.”
I wanted to slap myself. “He’s sexy as fuck!” I said in desperation. If Jules found out I’d lost him a potential hookup, he’d be pissed. “He’s got a great body. You would not believe the tattoos. Hngh. And look at his hair. It feels even better than it looks. He’s also smart. An attorney! Top of his class in law school. And a great skier!”
The man walked away laughing, as if my panic wasn’t important to him at all. I glanced over to the table where my friends were and found all of them staring at me. The look on Julian’s face was terrifying. He was clearly livid.
“What did you just do?” he asked in a low voice that nevertheless carried through the sudden silence.
“What? Nothing. I was talking about someone else.” I quickly slopped beer from the pitcher into a fresh glass and threw back a giant slug, nearly choking myself.
“Someone else who was top of his class in law school and whose hair you’ve touched,” he said flatly.
Someone at the table added, “You do have lovely hair, Julian. I’d touch it.”
“You don’t know whose hair I’ve touched,” I said with a sniff. “It’s none of your business anyway.”