Unexpectedly Hers(6)

Oddly, she smiled with a faraway look in her eyes and murmured something about his trivia quirk. Intent on chipping away at her armor, he asked, “I suppose you live here?”

Just like that, her starchy demeanor returned. “You mean here, at the inn?”

He grinned, wanting another peek beneath the surface, and if possible, beneath her ugly sweater. “Mmm hmmm.”

“Yes, on the third floor.” She cocked her head. “Why?”

“Making sure you’ll be nearby twenty-four seven. You never know if I might need you for something.” He’d purposely lowered his voice and leaned closer to see how she’d respond to subtle flirtation.

Her shoulders pulled back, her eyes avoided his gaze. “I’m at your beck and call.” She blushed again, clearly having not considered the innuendo in her words until they’d tumbled out.

Her bashful manner surprised Wyatt, who hadn’t met a shy woman in years. He found her attitude refreshing . . . and challenging. He’d always had a hard time backing down from a challenge.

She finally, if briefly, made eye contact and then handed him the key to his room. “Shall I wait to make sure you like your room?”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” He noticed a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. A cute nose. Thin and straight, perhaps a little on the small side. He repressed the urge to touch it, as well as the urge to stare at her full lips. Shit, he had to stop. He might be a healthy twenty-five-year-old guy who’d gone too long without sex lately, but he couldn’t let his dick hijack his goals.

“There are extra blankets in the closet.” She nodded tersely, punctuating her thought. “Sometimes the old windows can be a little drafty when the wind kicks up.”

“If it gets too cold, I might need something more than an extra blanket to keep me warm.” Okay, so his dick didn’t give a shit about his goals, although he didn’t have any real intention of pursuing Emma. He’d pushed because he had to get some reaction from Miss Prim and Proper.

She snorted. “Mari seems intent on satisfying your every whim, so I doubt you’ll have to go far to get what you need. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must get to work.”

She turned, scurrying away like a mouse that’d just been spooked by a tiger. He watched her trot down the stairs before he went into his room and collapsed across the bed.

Scrubbing his face with his hands, he thought about the task at hand. He had much to accomplish. Much to prove. Much to make up for.

Ryder’s healthcare costs had pretty much wiped out the bulk of Wyatt’s former wealth. His mom’s arthritis left her unable to hold a full-time job, either. Wyatt had to win back his former sponsors, because he never wanted his family to return to the days of his youth, when food stamps barely fed him and wearing shoes with holes in their soles was a way of life. When he’d had so little power.

This comeback plan was his last-ditch attempt to right the ship and erase the condemnation he’d seen in his mother’s eyes every day since Ryder had nearly died. Even more critical was helping his brother learn to enjoy life again. They’d loved working together in the past, so having Ryder with him now should be the ticket. Ryder’s help should also ensure that Wyatt made a big splash in the qualifiers. He needed to get past his own mental hurdles regarding the transition—from man-made, groomed slopestyle courses to the unpredictable freeriding terrain—pronto.

Hopefully a twenty-minute catnap would prepare him for dealing with Mari. He usually flirted because ladies liked it, and it made him feel more comfortable. With Mari, he couldn’t afford for her to think of him as the party boy of yesteryear. He had to train without falling into his old patterns with women.

With his eyes closed, the first thing that popped into his mind was the image of Emma’s ass swaying side to side as she climbed those stairs. He smiled in spite of himself and drifted into oblivion.





Chapter Two

Wyatt woke from his nap, momentarily confused by his surroundings. Branches tapped against the antique window at the corner of his room. He stood, stretching with a yawn, as he took a minute to observe his temporary home.

The room contained timeworn furniture and assorted knickknacks, including a cross on the wall near the bed. Perhaps he should pray for a guardian angel to help him conquer “big mountain” competitions. He could use all the help he could get, and it had been a while since he’d prayed for anything. After all the prayers he’d offered on his brother’s behalf, he’d figured other people needed God’s attention for a while.

His phone alarm beeped, reminding him that Mari would be waiting downstairs. Did she have his interests at heart? Last time he’d trusted a journalist, she’d betrayed him and reprinted things out of context. Made him look and sound like a misogynistic asshole with an ego the size of Montana. Neither was true, not that the public believed him.