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Coming In From the Cold(36)

By:Sarina Bowen


Dane paused outside Rupert's Bar and Grill. "I guess it wouldn't be cool to go in together for a drink," he said.

Willow peered in through the window. She didn't see Travis behind the  bar, but he was almost certainly in there. So she shook her head. "It's  too bad, isn't it? It's the only decent bar in town."

"No biggie," Dane shrugged. "I'd just as soon have one in your kitchen, anyway."

Just then the door flew open, and two of the drunken lifties stumbled  onto the sidewalk in front of them. Travis followed, breathing down  their necks. "I put up with you chuckleheads for too long," he said. "I  see you in here again, and I'm going to call the cops. If Annie presses  charges for harassment, I'll be the first guy in line as a witness."

Unfortunately, the third lifty appeared behind Travis just then. His  face reddened with drunken rage, he coiled back a fist, which seemed  poised to fly into Travis's head.

"Watch … " Willow started to say.

But Dane was faster. Letting one crutch crash to the sidewalk, he brought his elbow down fast and hard on the guy's raised arm.

The action upset the drunk's posture, and he began to topple. Dane  hitched himself back, pulling Willow with him before the man fell to the  sidewalk.

Travis wheeled around, taking in his prone attacker, and then Dane and Willow.

"Urgh … " the fallen lifty said. He scrambled to his feet. And then after  he'd scuttled well out of the way, he shot "asshole," over his shoulder.  Then he chased his friends down the street.

"Coward," Dane called after him, chuckling.

But Travis had forgotten about the lifties entirely. Willow felt his  glance land on her, and on the protective hand that Dane had wrapped  around her midriff when the drunk had flailed past them. Slowly, Travis  leaned over and plucked the fallen crutch off the sidewalk, handing it  to Dane. "Thanks for the help," he said, his voice low.

"It was nothing," Dane said.

Travis closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I haven't seen  either of you in here for a while. Wonder why that is?" He gave Willow a  pained smile. "You coming in for a drink, or what?"

Willow swallowed hard, not sure what to say.

Travis held the door open wider. "Come on already," he said. "My treat."

They followed him into the bar. Willow sat down first. And while Dane  tried to arrange himself on a bar stool, Travis pulled a pint glass off  the rack. "So … " His kind eyes studied her. "What can I put in this glass  for you, Wills?"

She met his knowing gaze. "How about cranberry and soda?"

"You got it," he said with a quick nod.

When he walked down the bar, Dane cocked his head toward Travis. "So,  when your drink order changes, everybody knows your secret? I never  thought about it before."

"Sure, but he already knew. I almost threw up on his shoes a couple of  weeks ago. That's when he offered to beat some sense into whoever … " She  cleared her throat.

Dane whistled. "I'd be offended if I didn't deserve it."

Travis came back with Willow's drink. He set two packets of crackers  down next to it. "That's for your stash," he said with a wink. "Now,  what can I get you, dude?" His face was perfectly friendly, but Willow  saw his hands grip the bar top as if he might strangle it.                       
       
           



       

"A St. Pauli Girl would be great, thanks."

"Comin' up."

When he turned away, Dane leaned quickly over to Willow gave her a  surreptitious kiss on the cheek. "It's my new favorite beer. Come with  me to Germany for a race some time, and we can get you a blouse like the  one on the label."

Willow tipped her head back and laughed. "These days, I could almost  fill it out. Excuse me, while I visit the ladies' room for the tenth  time tonight." It was another fun symptom of pregnancy, having to pee  every ten minutes. She squeezed his shoulder on the way toward the door.





* * *



Travis flipped a coaster onto the bar in front of Dane. Then he put the  beer bottle down and fixed him with a stare. His expression was just  burning up with resentment.

"So just say it already," Dane sighed.

"Okay I will." Travis closed his eyes. "I don't know what went down  between you two, but she was distraught." He shook his head. "I don't  see how you deserve her."

"I'm not in a position to argue the point right now," Dane said. "But I'm working on it."

"See that you do. Because if you screw this up, I will kill you."

Dane nodded. "If I screw this up, I'll let you."

The bartender's smile was sad. "I mean, goddamn it. I'm very perceptive,  usually," Travis shook his head. "And I didn't have this one figured  out."

"Sorry to spoil your record." Dane swigged his beer.

Travis tapped his fingers on the bar, thoughtful. "Look, I should tell  you how sorry I was to hear about your brother. Really. I had no idea."

Dane felt the blood rush to his face, and he wondered where Travis had  heard about Finn, and what he knew. Deep breath, Dane reminded himself.  It didn't matter anymore if people knew. The family curse was ending,  and he had to get used to the idea. "Thank-you," he stuttered.

"Tough couple of months for you, then." Travis picked up his bar mop and began shining the wooden surface.

"Absolutely," Dane said, taking another swig. "And I handled them  piss-poorly." He saw Willow coming back into the bar from the hallway.  "But now things are looking up."

"Good answer," Travis smiled. "Guess I won't kill you just yet." He moved down the bar.

Dane watched Willow approach, and it filled him with joy just to see her  coming to sit down next to him. He didn't deserve her, but she was here  anyway.

"Everything okay?" Willow asked, her eyes flicking toward Travis.

He covered her hand with his, amazed at its small size. "He threatened to kill me, but we're cool."

Her eyebrows disappeared into her hair. "How's that?"

He picked her hand up off the bar and kissed it. "It's the kind of thing you can only understand if you have a dick."

Willow smiled at him over the rim of her glass, and it made him want to take her home to bed immediately.





Twenty-nine





The PA system below them announced that the first skier was on course.

"Sweet," Dane said. "So, look uphill. Because it takes longer to brush  your teeth than to run a downhill course. This one is under two  minutes."

Willow waited. The sky above Lake Tahoe was impossibly blue. She could  see it reflected back in Dane's sunglasses. But she wasn't as interested  in the view of the lake as in the view of the guy. He was, truth be  told, impossibly handsome. His curly hair shone in the sun, and his  freshly shaved face smiled down at her.

They'd spent a lot of time together the past two weeks. While Willow was  at work, Dane put in grueling days at the gym or physical therapy. In  the evenings, he'd taught her all the card games he'd learned from years  on the road with other skiers. He was fun and attentive, and  surprisingly relaxed, as if a great burden had been lifted from his  heart. She gripped his hand and turned her attention uphill.

After a minute, Willow could sense the approach of the skier because  shouts of encouragement were audible on the hill above them. Then, as  she looked up toward the bend, a figure came shooting into view,  crouched into a tuck, legs stretched so far to the side that he ought to  have toppled over. Before she could even register the motion, he was  centered again, tearing forward at an inhuman speed. A second later, he  crossed the finish line-painted red on the snow-to the sound of cheers.

"Jeez!" Willow said. The skier swept around, coming to a stop in front  of the crowd. He ripped off his goggles and stared up at the electronic  timing board. "That is what you do?" She turned to Dane, her eyes wide.                       
       
           



       

"Yes, ma'am. Except faster."

"And cockier." She giggled.

"That, too."

Dane rubbed his hands together and pointed up the course. "So, the best  seeded racers come down first. The course gets chewed up by the time the  guys in the back of the pack come down."

"How is that fair?" Willow asked, staring up the white expanse.

"It isn't really fair," he said. "In most of these races, you get two  runs. And then they reverse the order of the seeds on race number two.  And there's time trials, for starting fresh … " He laughed. "It's a bunch  of technical bullshit, honestly. We put up with it because it's fun to  go fast." He scanned the crowd below them. "It's weird being here  without skis on."