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  I smirked. “Kel. I’m just another athlete like you that has a lot riding on these Games. I promise we won’t do anything stupid. If at any time you want to leave, just tell us or I’m sure Logan here would be happy to take you home if we get too rough.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip, and I wanted to run my tongue along her perfectly pouty mouth. I knew this girl was going to be a challenge, but I didn’t realize how much her being a challenge was turning me on. I’d have to adjust my pants before too long if she kept looking at me like that.

  When she looked back at Logan, I thought she was going to tell him they needed to get the hell out of there, but instead, she raised an eyebrow. “Are you really thinking about this?”

  Logan shrugged. “We could use a break, and The Games haven’t even started yet.”

  Kelly rolled her eyes. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Is that a yes, then?” I asked.

  Logan put his arm around Kelly. “We’ll see you in the lobby of our dorms at nine.”

  “What did you just agree to?” Kelly snapped.

  Logan smiled, pulling her toward the door with a wave. “See you guys later.”

  Kelly hiss-whispered at him, and they continued to argue back and forth as they disappeared inside the looming building.

  Either this girl was going to show up in the lobby tonight with her skating partner, or I was going to have to figure out another way. Because even if this was a bet, there was something about the girl that I couldn’t help but want to know more about. And that’s what scared the hell out of me.

  Chapter 2

  Kelly

  I stared at my reflection in the dirty mirror above the sink in my dorm. Was I really going to go through with this? Roam the streets of Pyeongchang with a bunch of Canadian snowboarders like some horny tourist who wants to pet their medals?

  The only reason Logan convinced me to go was because he said he would refuse to practice until I agreed to get out of my dorm room. I had a feeling he wouldn’t honor that promise, but I reluctantly agreed. Maybe while he was distracted, I could sneak back to the village and get in another practice of my own. Yes, that is exactly what I would do. Logan thought our final double axels were on point, but I knew we were half a second off and that half a second could cost us a medal and there was no way in hell I was going to get silver under that haughty Canadian, Alexis Roy.

  Before I could think any more about half turns or sneaking away to the ice arena, the door to the dorm opened to my left with a giant hockey bag pushing its way in, followed by the wild curly blonde hair of my little sister and roommate for The Games.

  She didn’t even notice I was standing in the tiny bathroom until she was stripped of her sweaty hockey gear and standing in just her sports bra and underwear, then she opened the small fridge where we put our daily delivered meals and pulled out a bag of cheese curds, courtesy of our parents’ dairy farm in Wisconsin. While we were both petite, with thin muscular frames, Becca built with quite the pair of toned thighs from playing goalie and adorned each of them with long vine tattoos that wrapped around her calves and up her thighs.

  “Hey, Kel, going to a funeral?” Becca asked, holding out the golden ball of cheese.

  “What? Why would you ask that? That’s terrible!” I put my hand on my chest that was covered with the soft material of my black turtleneck.

  “The long skirt and that throat-strangling sweater make it look like you’re either going to teach Sunday school or Grandma died. But that you weren’t going to tell me Gram died until after my first game,” Becca said, pushing her way into the bathroom and sitting down on the toilet. She didn’t seem to care that I was still standing there while she emptied her bladder and she placed her handful of cheese curds on the tiny white sink next to the toilet. Like the was the most normal thing in the world.

  I looked over my outfit. Sure, it was probably a bit matronly, but better that than to give the snowboarder any thoughts that I was out to do anything other than meet some of the athletes, maybe have a glass of wine, and get to the rink. Scratch that, no wine. That could get me tipsy, and no one wants to try skating while tipsy. “This is a very nice ensemble.”

  Becca wiped and flushed before pushing her way to the sink. “The fact that you called it an ensemble, tells me you need my help. Unless your plan is to dress up like those men who stood outside of UW with bibles to spread the good news, we need to scour your closet for something else.”

  “I think those are called Gideon’s,” I mumbled.

  “Didn’t you have a skating partner with that name, too? That guy who you skated with when we were in that little rink in Milwaukee? Remember? I think he came out of the closet in like second grade and you made him cry so hard he quit skating and the coach suggested you go to singles skating instead of pairs?” Becca asked, pushing past me to my closet, throwing it open then thumbing through my clothes, which were mainly warm ups and performance costumes.

  “You have a better memory than I do, what was that like thirteen years ago? And I didn’t make him cry. It wasn’t my fault he couldn’t do a simple Double Axel. How did he think he’d get anywhere if he couldn’t land that?” I asked, following her the few steps to our tiny closet.

  “I don’t know, when did you leave for New York? I was in fifth grade, maybe? You were still in middle school or just starting high school. Sorry, a few concussions fried my brain.” Becca looked over her shoulder, blowing a wisp of curly blonde hair out of her face. “Seriously? We come across the world for The Games, and this is what you have to wear? Warm ups, costumes, and whatever the hell funeral outfit you’re wearing.”

  I gawked. “What? This is nice. Presentable. I know this is your first Games, but we do news interviews and lots of press. I planned on wearing this for Good Morning America, so I guess I’ll need to get it laundered, but still, what’s wrong with it?” I asked, fanning out the silk skirt.

  Something soft hit my head, and a black sheath covered my face. I looked up and pulled it off, holding out the very low cut black shirt. “What is this?” I asked.

  “That’s one of my shirts. Put it on with one of those push-up bras you wear for competition, some skinny jeans, heels, and you’ll be good to go,” Becca said, taking my blonde braid and pulling it forward until she had the ponytail holder out.

  “And speaking of letting it go. This hair. You’re not the ice queen, Kelly. Let it be free!” Becca held her hands up and my hair unraveled out of its ever-present braid.

  Turning to look at the small mirror across from us, I looked at the reflection of myself with my long blonde hair framing my face. I never wore it down. It was always easier for competition and practice, and the braid had become my trademark since my first Games.

  Growing up on a dairy farm in Wisconsin, we always had to get up early for chores. Mom would braid both Becca and me’s hair, and if we finished our chores early enough, we’d get to head to the pond to skate before school. Even now as I ran my fingers through my now curly hair and looked at my smiling sister, it brought me back to those cold winter mornings where I’d practice my Double Axels, and she would try and break the ice with a nearby stick.

  I shook my head, knocking myself out of my memories and stared at my reflection. I looked like a different person that than the girl from Viel, Wisconsin. A girl with cleavage and wavy blonde hair. A girl who couldn’t admit she found something incredibly sexy about the guy with the mesmerizing blue eyes and dreadlocks. Something that made me think about what could happen if I let go of my inhibitions and stayed around.

  But I couldn’t think like that. I was here for The Games, not for romance or anything else.

  “Where are we going anyway?” Becca asked, knocking me out of my trance.

  I turned away from the mirror to see her pulling on a pair of jeans. “Um, well, I’m not sure exactly. And you’re coming?”

  Becca laughed, tossing on a slinky red top. “Well, yeah, I’m not going to let my sister go on the streets of Korea w
ithout me.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I won’t be gone long, and Logan’s coming too.”

  With my sister there, there was no way I could sneak off. She’d be watching me like a hawk. She gave me more shit than anyone about not having fun. Just because when she came to New York after making the Olympic team, I went to bed early to get up at dawn for practice while she stayed out all night. She didn’t have the rigorous schedule that I did. Part of me envied that. But another part of me, would always choose gold over fun.

  Becca smirked. “I think I could probably protect you more than Logan.”

  I smiled despite her statement. “Touché, Bex. Touché.”

  Becca put her arm around me. “Besides, how long has it been since we’ve really gotten to hang out? Sure, we had trials and a few weeks in the summers when you went to visit, but if I get time with you before Mom comes in later this week, then I’m going to take it. I’ve never gotten to party with my sister.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call this partying,” I muttered, my face paling as I thought of the drunk athletes and who would be breaking something and have us all end up in a bad light on the news. The judges did always have their favorites, and no one likes a hot mess on the ice.

  “Whatever it is, don’t tell Mom and Dad if they Facetime us,” Becca said, raising her eyebrows.

  I laughed. “Think Dad will make us talk to the cows too?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  ***

  Waiting in the lobby of our dorm, I felt exposed. Vulnerable even. More so than when I was in a sparkly leotard on the ice with hundreds of people watching me in the stands and millions on TV.

  “Stop tugging at your shirt,” Becca muttered, turning away from her conversation with Logan who was still talking.

  “I’m not,” I grumbled, tugging on the ridiculously low top. I may not have had a very big chest, but the push-up bra and low-cut top were making it look like I was about to bust out and hit someone in the chin with my breasts.

  “You definitely are and someone else definitely noticed,” Logan whispered and pointed his dimpled chin toward the elevators were out emerged Blake along with some other guys, two I remembered from when I first met him. I believe they were Canadian skiers or something. The other guys were talking amongst themselves, shoving, and laughing, but Blake’s blue eyes were focused directly on me with a smirk that had parts of my body on fire that definitely weren’t okay to be on fire in the middle of a dorm lobby during The Games.

  “Hey, you showed up. I thought I’d have to come up to your room and drag you down,” Blake said, his smirk broadening to a smile that was whiter than winter snow.

  I always thought of snowboarders as being a bunch of hooligans who were missing some teeth or other random bloody body parts. I guess it was just what I was used to with the American snowboarders who were always up at all hours of the night during The Games. Even when they came to Lake Placid to train, they all had crazy hair and liked to drink a lot of energy drinks and yell while barreling down the mountains shirtless.

  Before I could think of something snappy to say back to Blake, another guy with short black hair, put his arm around Blake’s shoulder. “Why are ya giving shit to the Ice Princess? Let’s get out of here and get downtown.”

  The other skier, with long red hair, whose name I forgot, came to the other side of Blake and put his lanky arm on his other shoulder. “Be nice, Erik, Blake invited Kelly here to join us.”

  Erik’s eyes practically bugged out of his head as he looked between Blake and I. “No, shit, really? You’re banging Elsa?”

  “What did you just call my sister?” Becca asked, strong-arming her way next to me.

  Even though I didn’t get to see my sister much, it was nice of her to always have my back. She may have been a few years younger, but the girl was strong and a firecracker. There was a reason she ended up with the boys traveling hockey team in grade school instead of figure skating with me. The reason being, she gave her first figure skating partner a bloody nose, and our coach suggested she try hockey instead. She never looked back.

  Erik stepped back, holding his hands up. I couldn’t see his arms under his long-sleeve thermal, but I doubted they were bigger than what my sister had crossed over her chest.

  “Come on, Ana, let’s be civil,” Logan said, putting a soft hand on Becca’s shoulder.

  “A frozen reference? And me as Ana? I think I’m more of a Sven,” Becca said with a laugh, looking over her shoulder at Logan and smiling.

  “Hmmm, I was going to go with Olaf, but if you’d prefer the ice guy, we can go with that.” Logan grinned, looking at her like she was the only girl in the room.

  Logan had always looked out for my little sister like she was his own. When I was busy with extra practices or yoga, he would make sure she wasn’t sitting alone in my apartment. My parents couldn’t get away from the farm much, hence why it was just Mom coming in for The Games and not until the finals and later on in Becca’s games. But Becca did try to visit when she could on school breaks. She liked skating in Lake Placid, and I think she too thought of Logan as the brother we never had. Assuming he thought of Becca and me as sisters too. But I’m pretty sure brothers didn’t look at their sisters like that. This was the first time I’d noticed any sort of chemistry with them, and now I was starting to wonder what really went on with all of those alone time lunches and nights out they had together.

  I let out a deep breath and turned to say something to my sister. But then I felt something warm on my lower back and looked up to see Blake smiling as his arm slid around my waist. “I think that’s our cue to leave.”

  I wanted to respond and say something, but all I could concentrate was his warm fingers against the thin material of my shirt, so I just slowly backed away and tugged on Becca’s arm. “Come on, Becca. Let’s get a cab. The boys are ready to go.”

  “What, you aren’t going to ride with me?” Blake said, holding out his arms.

  I smirked. “We’ll meet you downtown.”

  “Ouch,” Liam said behind him with a laugh.

  If we drove separately, I wouldn’t have to think about the heat that still felt like he left on my body. A feeling I hadn’t had in a long time and pushed away to focus on the sport. But now that I was feeling it, I wasn’t sure I wanted it to stop. Maybe it would have been better off if I just stayed home or headed to the arena. Maybe.

  ***

  I wasn’t much of a bar goer, but I didn’t expect everywhere to look like the street markets I saw on the Travel channel or for all of us to pile on some outdoor picnic tables with waitresses placing giant green bottles and small glasses in front of each of us.

  Blake sat across from me and immediately grabbed a bottle and filled my glass.

  “Oh, I’m okay. I was just going to order a glass of wine or something,” I protested, waving my hands.

  Blake laughed slightly and put the bottle down. “It’s a Korean custom that you have to pour the other person’s drink, and when your glass is filled, you must imbibe. It’s considered impolite if you don’t follow customs. You don’t want to be looked at as another dumb American athlete, do you?”

  I raised an eyebrow and scowled. “Is this some weird Canadian thing to get a girl drunk?”

  He shook his head. “No, this is a dumb Canadian snowboarder doing some research on Korean customs. Go ahead, Google it, then pour my drink.”

  I looked around the table where the guys were pouring each other’s drinks. I would have asked Becca, but she was already at another table, talking to a group in American warm-ups with Logan on her tail. It was now just Blake and me. This would be my chance to escape. To get back to the rink and perfect my double axel. But instead, my heart, or more like my libido, did the thinking.

  I sighed and grabbed the bottle, pouring his glass before I sat the bottle down then lifted my own glass. “Here’s to The Games, I guess.”

  He smiled and clinked his glass with mine. �
��To The Games.”

  ***

  I wasn’t a big drinker. Ever. And I had no idea how many bottles of alcohol Blake, and I had gone through. Or when he got so funny.

  Maybe it was the accent. It was a mixture of sort-of-kind-of-French and northern Minnesotan, which I guess was basically Canada. But when he spoke he rolled his Rs like a French man, and I couldn’t help but stare at his mouth. And I should have stopped staring or stopped talking after the first glass. Then he just kept filling mine up, and I kept staring, and there we were, me laughing and staring at his beautiful mouth.

  “You really had a Mohawk for Sochi trials?” I asked, almost spitting out my Soju that was a sugary vodka and supposed to be a very popular drink in Korea.

  Blake laughed and filled my cup again. “Yeah. I wanted to stand out. You Americans can’t have all the flair with your blue-haired swimmers.”

  I pointed at him and leaned on my elbow. “Hey! Those summer guys aren’t the same, and you know it!”

  He grabbed my hand, and a smirk crossed his face that brought out one small dimple on his cheek. I don’t know if it was the large amounts of alcohol we consumed or that dimpled smile, but all of my body felt flushed, and I was sure my face had to be redder than the Canadian flag. “It’s not nice to point, Miss Johnson. Even an American knows that.”

  I tried not to focus on how warm and rough his hands were on mine. His whole palm covered my fists, and I briefly wondered how big other things were before quickly shooting that thought out of my head, and pulling my hand away. I didn’t need to think about sex, no matter how long it had been. This was The Games. Not a time for romance or lust. “I wanna see a Mohawk picture. Come on; I know you’ve got one on your phone.”

  “Only if you show me one of yours pictures. I’m sure you have some from your early days of skating. The American costumes in the nineties weren’t exactly some of your proudest moments. Or at least that’s what your movies showed me.” He raised an eyebrow before taking a sip of his drink, which was more like a giant gulp.