Coming in from the Cold (22 page)

“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.”

“Soon,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Though, I wouldn’t mind seeing you in one of those tight racing suits.”

He chuckled. “I’ll put one on for you tonight, baby.”

The PA system announced that J.P. McCormack was up next.

“Hey—this next guy could win. He’s seeded in the middle, but having a great season. If you turn around, we can see his start.”

Willow looked toward the video feed on the press box. On the screen, a helmeted, goggled racer poled fast out of the starting gate, then dug into a tuck.

“Come on, J.P.!” Dane clapped. His eyes were glued to the screen. Willow watched Dane’s body lean to the right as the skier made his first turn, then lean to the left as the course corrected. It was adorable—as if he were skiing the race with him. The skier made a series of heart stopping turns, hanging his body impossibly low to the surface of the snow.

Next came a jump of such monstrous proportions that Willow held her breath. “Fuck,” Dane whispered as the racer’s arms windmilled in the air.

The landing was rough, the skier’s legs coming down awkwardly, wider apart to her eyes than looked comfortable. He lurched to the right, and Willow heard Dane suck in his breath. But then, miraculously, he corrected his position and tucked again. “Like a boss!” Dane yelled. “Can’t believe that worked.” His eyes were glued to the screen. “Only two-tenths back on the split!” he said. “He could almost do it.”

A minute later, the skier shot into view on the last turn, tucking tight toward the finish. Dane put his fingers to his lips and whistled. The guy glided to a stop about ten feet from them. He absorbed his time with a solemn nod.

Dane cupped a hand to his mouth. “J.P.!”

The guy looked in their direction. When he found Dane’s face, his expression went first to surprise. And then he grinned. He kicked his skis off, stacked them together and started over to the fence. “Danger! To what do we owe the honor?”

“That was some sweet recovery, dude. Well played.”

The guy looked shocked. “Well, thanks. We’ll see if I can hold it together for the second run.”

Dane clapped him on the back. “Look, in Italy, when I said…”

J.P. waved a hand. “I don’t think we’re responsible for the things we say right after a bone breaks.”

“Well, anyway,” Dane cleared his throat. “Nice run.”

“Why was he so surprised that you complimented him?” Willow asked after J.P. moved on.

Dane grimaced. “Nothing gets by you, does it?”

“You two don’t get along?”

Dane took off his shades and looked at her, his blue eyes especially bright in the wintry glare. “It’s not just him. I’m not known for being warm and cuddly.”

Willow put her arms around his waist. “I beg to differ.”

He grabbed her butt and held her close. “It’s true, though,” he closed his eyes and gave her one very nice kiss. “Also, I’m not known for showing up with a girlfriend. The men probably think I’m gay.”

“Oh, boy,” she said, laughing. “Again, I beg to differ.” She put her hands inside his jacket. “The men think you’re gay. The women’s team knows you’re not.”

Dane’s eyes widened with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. “A couple of them might have figured it out.”

“You should see your face right now.” They were nose to nose. “You’re cute when you’re freaking out.” She flicked her eyes towards a group of women standing near the press box, all wearing identical United States Ski Team jackets. “They’ve been staring at us, though. That’s the only reason I bring it up.”

“Let ’em stare,” Dane said. Then he closed his eyes and kissed her again, and it was the sort of kiss that she felt all the way to her toes.

When the next racer took the course, Willow’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She had to untangle herself from Dane’s distracted embrace to retrieve it. The text message from Callie read:
You’re making out on national television
.

“Geez!” Willow put a hand on her mouth and looked around. Sure enough, there were half a dozen TV cameras aimed all over the finish area. She felt her face get hot.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his eyes on the course.

She put the phone in Dane’s hand, but he couldn’t make himself look down at it until after the next racer’s time was posted. When he read Callie’s message, he laughed. “Must be a really slow news day in sports.”

* * *

The second round of runs seemed even faster and more nerve wracking than the first. And as if there weren’t enough tension in the air, a skier blew up at the top of the course. Willow watched the screen with horror as one young guy seemed to trip, flying toward the fence, skis in the air. Then his body slammed down onto the snow, skis and poles launching away from him in different directions. Willow buried her face in Dane’s shoulder.

He clapped an arm around her with a chuckle. “That was a total yard sale. But he’s getting up. See?”

She peeked at the screen and saw him, head down, collecting his gear.

“He can try again next year,” Dane said.

“Ouch,” Willow said.

“That’s the sport, Willow. Sometimes you’re the windshield, sometimes you’re the bug.” He held her in one arm, eyes glued to the leader board. “J.P. is up next,” he said. He leaned forward when his teammate appeared on screen in the start house. The crowd clapped and shouted encouragements, in spite of the fact that the skier couldn’t possibly hear them.

Willow held her breath as he poled onto the course, tucking himself into the shape of a human bullet. The first two turns went great, his long legs reaching out like a frog’s to grip the snow as he hurtled downhill. “Here comes the jump,” Dane said, his hands white knuckled on the fence. “Yeah!” he yelled when J.P. flew gracefully forward and then landed it.

A minute and a half later, it was over and done, J.P. came sailing across the finish line, then whipping around to see his time. He was three-quarters of a second in the lead. “Is that enough?” Willow asked.

“It might be,” Dane said, stroking his chin. “He has to sweat it out now.”

* * *

In the end, nobody could best him. And Willow watched J.P., his face lit with happiness, step onto the podium to receive a gold medal. As Willow and Dane made their way back across the snow, J.P. clomped by in his ski boots, stopping to clasp Dane on the shoulder. “We’re doing
après
in the Cliff Lounge,” he said. “You know, after the press conference bullshit. See you up there?”

“Yeah, I think you will,” Dane said after a beat. “Thanks, man.” When J.P. walked away, he said, “you don’t mind, do you? Some beers with the team?”

“Why would I mind?” she asked. “Sounds like the thing to do. Except, I’ll be drinking club soda.”

“Okay. I’m not that close to these people, so if you’re not having fun, we’ll leave. They can be pretty rowdy.”

“I can handle rowdy,” she said. “I suppose we need a sign, though. We don’t have one yet.”

“A what?”

Willow shook her head. “I keep forgetting that you’re from outer space. All couples have a sign—a way of telling the other person that they need to be rescued, or that it’s time to leave.”

“Huh,” Dane said. “Like what?”

“It could be something physical, like squeezing your wrist.” Willow grasped his wrist tightly. “Or it could be a word. Something you wouldn’t say all the time.”

“Like…platypus,” Dane suggested.

“That’s a little tricky to use in a sentence,” Willow said. “We’d better stick with the wrist.”

“I need to stretch for a minute,” Dane said. “Standing around all day tightened me up.” He leaned over, rubbing his knee.

“Ouch,” Willow sympathized. The sun was much lower in the sky now, though the feel of its last rays on her face was sublime. “Aw,” she pointed. “Look at that.” On the bunny slope in front of the lodge, a handful of children were having a lesson. The kids were quite small—maybe three or four years old. It was hard to tell with all the gear on them. “They look like cute little bugs. The helmets make their heads look enormous,” she said.

Dane put an arm around her waist, watching quietly. The kids were following the teacher down the hill, making S turns in her tracks, hands on their knees. “That is damned cute,” he said finally. He kissed the side of her face. “I never thought about how much fun it would be to teach a little skeeter how to carve turns.”

“I know you’re still getting used to the idea,” she said.

“I’m ignorant, but I’m not unwilling,” he said. “I never thought I could have a kid, so I haven’t looked at one. Like, ever.”

“I know,” she said. “Baby steps.”

As they moved on, she saw Dane’s head still turned to watch the children. “Those are some seriously short skis,” he said, holding up his hands about two feet apart. Then he chuckled. “Awesome.”

* * *

The Cliff Lounge had beautiful peaked ceilings, exposed beams and a stuffed elk’s head on the wall. Willow sat on a leather sofa with Dane. J.P. and a few other guys sprawled on the furniture around them, drinking beer and blowing off steam.

“Let’s see the sore knee,” Willow said, patting her own lap. She reached down for his ankle and guided the recovering leg up where she could reach it. “Tell me if this is too much,” she said.

Dane closed his eyes as she began to work his lower quadriceps. “Christ. You are a superior being, and I am not worthy of your excellence.”

“That sore, is it?”

He nodded with a grimace.

“Danger!” called a gruff voice. A giant guy with a red beard appeared over them.

Dane reached up to give him a fist bump. “Folger, that was some sick air you caught on the jump.”

Folger had a laugh that was as big as his enormous head. He dropped himself down onto the sofa next to Willow. “I got a little more than I bargained for on that one. Cost me two-tenths of a second that I couldn’t afford.” He held his hand out to Willow. “I’m Folger. You must be Willow.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said, breaking off Dane’s massage to see her hand disappear into Folger’s hairy paw.

“We’re all curious as hell about you.” Folger shook her hand. “We can’t figure out who would put up with Danger for more than a half hour.”

Willow looked at her watch. “Well, we’ve only been here a few minutes. You never know.” The whole group guffawed at her answer.

“If you get tired of him, I’m available,” Folger offered. “The women are in short supply this evening, since their event is tomorrow.”

“Get your own, asshole,” Dane said. But his smile was amused.

“Ah, there’s the Danger we’re used to,” J.P. said, kicking his feet onto the coffee table. “I think we’re almost ready for another round of beers,” he said. “Folger needs a beer. And so does Willow.”

She shook her head. “I’ll have to pass.”

“I hope you don’t have a bad case of altitude sickness,” he said, signaling the waitress. “If it’s your first trip to Tahoe, that can be rough.”

“Nah,” Dane said. “She’s got a bad case of being knocked up.”

“Whoa!” The men erupted into cries of amused surprise. “Like a boss!” somebody called out.

But Willow gasped, her face getting hot. “You,” she pointed at Dane, “had better find a more polite way of making that announcement.”

“Go easy on him,” Folger said. “The man is proud of himself. His swimmers made it onto the podium.”

“In this crew,” J.P. added, “we’re not known for being polite. But if you want to teach him a lesson, hide his cane.”

“Good idea,” she said, reaching across to touch her water glass to J.P.’s beer bottle.

Dane eased his leg to the floor. And then he slipped his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. His lips drew down to her ear. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

She gave him a quick smile. “It’s a little too early to tell people.”

“You’re the authority on that,” he said, his voice low. “It’s just that I’m starting to get excited about it.”

She felt her eyes mist as she met his gaze. The fact that he told the truth was reflected in his face, and in the warm look waiting there for her.

He leaned in, whispering. “When Finn died, I thought there would never be any more family for me. But I was wrong.” He kissed her then, and his lips were soft, filling her heart with unexpected joy.

“Great goblins!” Folger cried. “Aliens have stolen Danger and left this guy in his place.”

Well before their kiss broke off, Dane’s middle finger was raised in Folger’s face.

“Okay, maybe it’s still him,” Folger corrected. “How’s the knee, anyway?”

“It’s fine.” Dane reached for his beer. “You know the drill—lots of tedious therapy. But I’m just so glad to get off crutches.”

Folger nodded his oversized head. “Ain’t that the truth? All those weeks where you can’t drive your own car.”

“Wait—do all of you spend time on crutches?” Willow asked.

“Hell, yes,” J.P. agreed. “But we’re not as bad as the freestyle guys. Watch a mogul competition on TV, and the announcers spend half their time talking about who’s had the most recent ligament surgery.”

“Crutches are the pits,” Folger went on. “You can’t carry anything in two hands. I wore a backpack around my own goddamned house. By the end, you’re stoked to move around like a normal guy. I couldn’t wait to lay my girlfriend down, climb on top of her and fuck her properly. Am I right?”