The driver swerved, but the car’s rear fender struck the back wheel of Grey’s bike, flinging him into the air. A God-awful crashing sound from across the street punched the air before Grey hit the pavement. He landed in a twisted heap on the road, popping his knee.
Shock seized his muscles and thoughts. Am I dead? Paralyzed? He wiggled his toes and fingers. Sweet relief gushed through him despite feeling like his knee had snapped out of place. He winced before looking down at his leg, expecting to see blood and bone poking through his jeans. Even just that slight movement sent fifty knives slicing through his side. Motherfucker. Had he broken some ribs, too?
Distant shouts and icy snow slowly assaulted his senses. Between shallow breaths, he twisted his neck to search for the car, which was now wrapped around a metal lamppost on the opposite side of the street, steam rising from its engine. The crumpled vehicle didn’t bode well for the driver.
Several pedestrians began running toward him and the car. Some were calling 9-1-1. Others were snapping photos. Assholes.
Pain, hunger, and chaos mingled together. A wave of nausea roiled in his stomach as he removed his cracked bike helmet. He closed his eyes to clear his light-headedness. Goddammit to hell, a knee injury meant big trouble for him and Backtrax. Grey stole a second look at the car, but still didn’t see the driver emerge.
Unbe-fucking-lievably bad luck—for both of them.
The prickly imprint of attraction lingered on Avery’s skin after the gorgeous man left the restaurant. No, not gorgeous. Sexy. An incredibly sexy man whose two-day stubble covered his jaw, surrounding sensual, full lips. Whose disheveled, walnut-colored hair called out to be touched. Whose gaze—intense, steely-gray eyes fringed with long lashes and hooded under straight brows—had burrowed inside her body, making her hot and restless.
He’d stared at her with open desire, but then ducked out after he’d won her full attention.
Was he a tourist? Would she ever see him again?
Hopefully.
“That’s him, guys,” Kelsey chirped. “That’s Grey!”
Emma choked on her sake. “He’s the guy you’ve been crushing on lately?”
“Yes.” A wistful expression swept across Kelsey’s face. “Greyson Lowell. Yummy.”
Crud. Avery couldn’t even consider him if Kelsey called dibs. Kelsey, whom she loved dearly, but who also fell in and out of “love” with all the drama and duration of a winter snow squall.
“Remind me, because I forget. What’s his story?” Avery had stopped listening to Kelsey’s mooning over this guy weeks ago, unwilling to indulge her friend’s habit of pining after someone who didn’t appear to return her affection.
“He moved to town in December after he bought Backtrax. His friend Trip works for him and they have plans to expand into summer mountaineering so it becomes a year-round business.” Kelsey waved her hand. “I met them at On The Rocks one night after work last month. Grey kissed me in the back corner just before closing.”
“Ew, barroom PDA?” Avery scrunched up her nose. “Hmm, I could’ve sworn we’d all graduated from high school twelve years ago.”
“Kelsey, you ho!” Emma teased.
“Sadly, he didn’t give me the chance to be a ho. He left with Trip when the bar closed. But even drunk, he was a great kisser.” Kelsey’s eyelids fluttered. “Really hawt, and sweet, too. Unfortunately, he’s hard to nail down.” Kelsey frowned. “Trust me, I’ve tried every trick in the book.”
“Good gravy, Kels, promise us you’re not stalking this guy.” Avery dipped her spicy tuna roll into the wasabi soy sauce, tuning out Kelsey’s “really hawt” bragging, which had been stuck on auto-replay in her head. She slid a sideways glance at her friend and paused, her chopsticks midair. “You are stalking him, aren’t you.” Avery plastered her palm to her forehead.
“No! Maybe I’ve texted and called him a few times, but he’s really focused on building his business.” Kelsey straightened her napkin and cleared her throat. “If I’m patient and friendly without smothering him, maybe he’ll come around once ski season ends.”
“Well, he’s hot,” Emma said. “I say go for it. Nothing to lose. It’s not like this town is bustling with great-looking, available, self-employed men.”
Kelsey looked at Avery, whose raised brows and soft sigh must’ve spoken volumes. “You disagree?”
“You know my feelings about ski guides and instructors.” Avery squeezed Kelsey’s hand.
“Come on, they aren’t all cheaters like Matt,” Emma interrupted. “Don’t judge every man in the ski industry based on the one who burned you.”