Ride Page 17
“Bill Dinkler,” the man himself says with a smile, standing to shake my hand. His salt-and-pepper hair is familiar from all the times I’ve seen him interviewed. “Dinkler’s fine. Pleasure to meet you.”
The best action-sports director in the world, and I’m shaking his hand.
“Ryan,” the other man says, going for a shake in turn. “Cinematographer. I saw what you did on the edit. Nice work.”
Nice work.
I’m here. I’m making it.
Chase must see my grin, because he has a smile, too.
I was so nervous to meet them, but now it feels so natural. We talk photography and filming until the chef serves us an unbelievable three-course meal. Once we’ve finished with the entrée we set out the huge maps before us, and Dinkler goes through all the shots he wants to get. We’ll hit this peak tomorrow, if the weather’s good. I’ll help out on the cinematography occasionally, but while I’m learning most of what they want from me is still photography. Of the athletes. Of the crew, too, for their social media.
Always I’m aware of Chase on the other side of the table, flicking me glances when no one is looking.
It’s late when we all say goodnight in the upstairs hallway. Hanne gives me a quick hug. JJ warns me to get a good night’s sleep before tomorrow’s early start.
Chase just stands there, waiting, and I can feel the distance between us burn across every inch of my skin. In the silence after the other two walk away his closeness is a taste on my tongue.
In the dark hall Chase lingers, our eyes locked together, as sparks crackle unseen.
Hanne’s door clicks shut.
Then JJ’s.
Chase is released by the sound. Without warning he grabs me, tugging me close with a starving hunger and capturing me in a greedy kiss. It’s what I’ve wanted these weeks—what I’ve dreamed of more than I’d ever admit to Alex—and yet his force takes my breath away. There’s raw need in his grasping hands, a desperate urgency to the way he lifts me in his arms, his palms cupped under my ass. I only just have time to get my thighs wrapped about the muscled ridge at his hips before he’s pushing me through my bedroom door and tossing me down on the bed.
We can barely get undressed. Chase’s hands grip possessive at every inch of me, reluctant to let go so I can strip. He nips at my lip before sucking it between his own, gorging on my whimpers. His mouth leaves darkened hungry marks at my neck. Across my chest his breath pants, wordless and wanting, and when he first shoves into me a groan shudders across the built line of his shoulders, one of his hands twisting in my hair.
Not serious. As I drown in pleasure I try to remember it, while Chase holds me like he’s afraid I’ll go.
After Chase’s merciless hunger has unpicked us both we lie still and panting, the slick soft of my skin draped over the hard-packed muscle of his. That desperate tone is gone, but somehow it still hangs between us. A lingering surprise, even though I’m pleasure-shaken and sated: confident, smooth Chase had that need in him.
That need for me.
From the side I can’t read Chase’s face. His eyes are closed, faint lines threading over his forehead. Against the pale sheets the black ink of his tattoos stand stark.
I don’t know what I’d say. I don’t get a chance to. Chase’s eyes open at the same time as my mouth, stopping all of my words.
For a beat we look at each other, and something flickers over Chase’s eyes before he wipes it away with a grin.
“I’m gonna sleep in my room.” He shrugs out from under the drape of my body, the stroke of his fingers lingering at my thigh. His bend for his discarded jeans hides his face. “Need to get some rest.”
I nod, pulling the covers up over myself and trying to keep the twist in my stomach from showing on my face. Of course he needs to sleep properly. He’s going to be riding big mountains out in the backcountry—the stakes aren’t just high, they’re life or death. And if there’s one thing Chase is famous for, it’s dedication to his riding.
Just like I’m dedicated to my work. The whole point of not serious is that it doesn’t fuck up the rest of our lives.
Chase pauses in the doorway, his spread fingers holding the door open. He looks at them for a long moment before tilting his face back to me.
“Sleep well, yeah? Big day tomorrow.”
He turns away again too quickly for me to read his expression, the door clicking shut after him.
20
“You hanging in there?” JJ’s voice crackles in my ear, the headset allowing his voice to cut through the muffled roar of the helicopter’s rotors.
I force my eyes open, giving him a grin. “Just about. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired.”
A week and a half of four a.m. starts and late nights editing photos. Even later nights in bed with Chase, enjoying each other’s bodies before we sleep on our own. I’m having the time of my life. How could I not be? I’m filming a proper big-mountain film in the wilds of British Columbia. I’m living the life I’ve always dreamed of, surrounded by the best athletes in the world and famous cinematographers.
But god, I’m exhausted.
“I think I can actually feel my knees aging,” Hanne complains. Not that she looks like she’s anywhere near slowing down. We’ve warmed up on two big slopes today, and already she’s pulling her neck warmer over her face for the next one, the patterned fabric sliding up over her grin.
And Chase …
Chase is weird when we’re shooting. I knew he was dedicated before I came, obviously. He has a reputation for single-minded focus that can verge on assholery. Who gets to the top of their field without having a take-no-prisoners sense of purpose? But I didn’t expect just how big the difference would be.
There’s the man who’s always hungry for my pleasure. The one who worships my body every night, coaxing me to one trembling orgasm after another.
There’s the man I see on our snowed-in weather days, who’s funny and relaxed. The one who’s teaching me to play poker and appreciate the NHL, pausing Colorado Avalanche replays to obsess over the finer points of strategy.
And now there’s the man slouched in his seat, tension ticking over his set jaw as he stares past me to the mountains. He always makes sure to grab the space beside mine, but beyond the press of my side to his Chase ignores me.
I’ve decided he’s just tense before hitting big lines. Why wouldn’t he be? This isn’t relaxing in Laax anymore. We’re out taking risks in avalanche country. It isn’t like Chase is a guy with a boring office job, stressed about some presentation. He’s is a world-class athlete who looks death in the face every day. He’s allowed to get into a self-centered zone as he scopes out his route. A fuck up on the face could kill him.
Anyway, it’s simple, just like Alex said. Work and play. No one else comments on us. It’s not like we’re a couple—we’re not being touchy-feely in public. It’s no one else’s business if late at night Chase slips into my room and under my clothes.
“There she is.” The pilot’s voice crackles through our headphones, his helmeted head tilted toward the peak before us. The face is jagged with spines, a forbidding near-vertical expanse of snow and rock. “There’s no space to touch down on the ridge, so I’m going to tow you three in. Dinkler, you ready?”
The other helicopter—the one equipped with the biggest film equipment—is our shadow moving along the giant ridge. Like birds flying together we’ve been each other’s partners over the range, two bright sparks of color moving amid all of this white.
“Yeah, we’re good to go.” Dinkler’s voice crackles in my ear. “Brooke, you still good to be put down first?”
We’ve already decided where I’ll be dropped for this run. Lower down the slope, on a rocky outcrop, I’ll be best placed to get shots upward toward the boarders. We checked the light here yesterday—it’s looking good.
I’m so excited I can hardly breathe. “Yep, I’m ready.”
I can feel Chase’s thigh stiffen where it’s pres
sed to mine. The turn of my head is just quick enough to catch his eyes fixed upon my face, his lips parted as if he might say something, before his mouth thins and he turns away.
I’m let out first, the pilot bringing the helicopter down to land neatly on the snow. JJ leans over Chase to give me a fist bump.
“Be careful.”
“I will be.” I flash a grin.
Chase watches with a hooded expression as I unbuckle and gather my equipment, wordlessly accepting the jostle of my bags against his legs. Hanne and JJ have already begun chatting, leaning toward the other window so they can peer up at the ridge.
It’s fine. I don’t need Chase’s acknowledgment. I don’t expect it. So when his hand catches my shoulder, I almost jump out of my skin. The jerk of my face upward to him brings us close, near enough that I can see the gold sparks in his eyes.
“… Yeah?”
Chase’s eyes tick between mine with an intensity that tingles over my skin. Something furrows lines over his forehead and twists an unhappy line to his lips. At my shoulder his hand tightens, strong fingers cupping the curve of my bone as if he could hold me here.
When he lets go one trailing finger makes a tug at the strap of my avalanche bag.
“See you later.” His voice is as sullen as his suddenly hard face.
Everyone has a different way of getting in the zone, I guess. Chase’s involves being a bit of an ass.
It’s easy to forget as I get busy sorting out my equipment in time for the riders’ launch. From my low vantage point I have the most amazing view as they tow out from the helicopter. The bird hovers above the knifepoint-thin ridge at the top of the peak, and against the bright-blue canvas of the sky I see Hanne, JJ, and Chase jump out. It’s so precarious, and they’re so graceful. Fearless, as if in falling they would only fly.
Below them the mountain cuts away for thousands of feet.
It’s not the first time I’ve felt a little shiver, watching them do that. But they’re surefooted. And they know what they’re doing, just like I do.
Outside of the helicopter we rely on the radios to speak with each other. Across all that distance I hear JJ’s voice crackle on.
“Let us know when you’re ready, guys.”
I check once more through my camera’s viewfinder before pressing the button on the radio fixed at my shoulder. “I’m good to go.”
“Great,” Dinkler says. “Say when.”
Hanne doesn’t press the transmit button on her radio, but I hear her whoop anyway.
The tiny dot of Chase pushes up from the snow, tilting toward the edge of the drop.
For a second I imagine him cartwheeling in free fall down it. All the way down, a rag doll tossed and broken on the mountain’s teeth. My breath freezes in my chest.
“I’m dropping in.” Against my fears Chase’s voice over the radio is dauntless. “See you on the other side.”
His confidence warms something in my chest. If anyone can ride this peak, it’s Chase Austin.
He could ride anything.
His boarding is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. As he begins to cut down the sharp-ridged spines loose powder sloughs with him, hundreds of pounds of snow billowing with the turns of his board. It’s gorgeous. It’s deadly. But the danger is part of that beauty.
Chase carves great beautiful lines down over the virgin terrain, so in control that it takes my breath away.
One tiny spark of life, flying over snow that doesn’t care about him at all and could crush him in an instant.
But it doesn’t crush him. Chase won’t be crushed.
Instead of falling, he flies.
I’m so deep in my thoughts that the tap on my head makes me start. An upward look reveals the culprit as a Clif bar, dangling from familiar fingers.
There’s usually some sort of peace offering after Chase’s film-day moods.
Once I’ve taken it Chase flops down to sit beside me in the snow. “You should eat. It’s been hours.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I am hungry. And it’s good to see the edge of a grin on Chase’s mouth, the brightness in his eyes as he tilts his head toward me. Now we’re taking a break from filming he’s relaxed again, cheerful after having won his most recent gamble with death.
“You were looking good.” I pause to rip the bar’s wrapping with my teeth, my gloved fingers too clumsy for the task. “I was worried about that cornice.”
Chase doesn’t seem to have heard me. His arms looped about his bent legs he stares out over the mountains. Behind us the helis perch, and before them the others laugh over thermoses of coffee. I can hear wisps of Hanne’s funny story and JJ’s baritone chuckle.
Chase isn’t focused on them. Chase is like me, looking out over the endless wonderland before us. Snow-shrouded peaks reach toward the sky, the sun raising the ghosts of a hundred million diamonds to sparkle. A high-up wind chases wisps of clouds. Everywhere is white, black, and blue, a shimmering monochrome that seems too startlingly clear to be believable.
Inside my chest my heart beats harder, wild and free.
“This is nothing.” Chase’s voice is a low rumble as he dips closer. The bump of his shoulder to mine never quite breaks, a deliberate lean that holds him close. “You should see Alaska. Best place on Earth.”
I turn my face to him. Chase doesn’t look to me. His eyes are fixed on the mountains, his expression softened with that wonder I recognize from Laax. From underneath the line of his beanie wild strands of tousled hair break free, tugged by the wind.
I only see this peace on him in two places: here, when he looks at the mountains, and late at night, in that time between the sex and the separation, when we lie tangled together and don’t say a thing.
“It’s best if you hike out.” Chase’s voice continues soft and low, his eyes fixed on these mountains but remembering others. “Takes forever. But then you can camp out there. Spend days just climbing up and boarding down. I guess it’s a lot of work.” He shrugs, as if subzero temperatures and endless walking are nothing. “But just being out there in the mountains, away from everything …”
His voice trails to silence.
“I’ve never been to Alaska.” It’s such a stupid, small thing to say. But really I just want Chase to keep talking, and the twitch of a wider smile at the edge of his mouth is enough.
“It’s my favorite place. I feel … free. You know. No cages. No one judging me.” His blinking is slow, his voice a low rhythm only for me. “No need to justify what I do.”
A frown tugs between my brows. The tilt of my head catches Chase’s eye, sliding his gaze toward me.
“Why would you need to justify it? When you ride, it’s … amazing.”
It’s such a lame word. It doesn’t matter. Chase’s grin is too easy, as weightless as it’s meaningless. “I know you like how I ride, Larson.”
I nudge my shoulder tighter to his, shaking my head. “I’m serious. You were born to do this.”
A ghost of another tease quirks Chase’s smile, but it melts as quickly as late-spring snow. He’s forgotten the mountains. Instead his eyes are fixed on me, all that bright intensity searching. His lips part on a breath I feel rather than hear. Those playful evasions stripped away, something is revealed beneath that is heart-stoppingly serious.
Against my arm his weight settles a fraction heavier.
“It’s crazy.” Chase’s tone is placid with a trace of bitterness, like a long-settled argument. “Getting my kicks and an ego massage from doing stupid fucking stunts on a piece of wood. A shit ton of risk for a pointless reward.”
It’s such an obvious lie that even Chase can’t carry it. The slow fall of his lashes can’t hide the question in his eyes. An unhappy twist tugs at his lips.
My breath feels hot in my lungs, scraping at my throat. For some reason my heart beats harder in my chest. “It’s not pointless. You love the mountains because they make you feel … They make you feel something you can’t get anywhere else. Becau
se they strip away all the bullshit and let you … just be you.”
This time Chase doesn’t even pretend to smile. His eyes remain fixed on me, his lips parted over breaths that aren’t as steady as they should be. “Oh yeah?”
I crack the tiniest smile. “I’ve seen how you look at them, Mr. Austin.”
Chase’s eyes dip to my lips. “And the risks?”
My swallow is dry. “You’re going to let risks stop you?”
Against my arm I feel the roll of Chase’s inhale. A deep breath, full of potential. His face tilts, sinking closer so that the air between us quivers. My lips tingle with the closeness of his.
Hanne’s shout snaps the moment in two.
“Break’s over, kids. Time to get back in the saddle.”
The unfinished moment lingers between us all day. Chase returns to his usual silence in the helicopter, but before I leap out for more filming his hand brushes over my knee, his eyes finding mine for a look I find hard to leave behind.
After work, when the others go back to the lodge for the hot tub, Chase asks the heli pilot to drop us off for one last run together. The setting sun bathes us in liquid amber as we wind between pines, wings of powder arching out between us. The cradle of the mountains holds us safe in its embrace, and happiness tastes golden on my tongue.
The rightness of this aches in my chest. The ride is part of the conversation we never finished. We talk better with our bodies anyway, in this language we share. Maybe with words we run the risk of fucking things up, but this thing, this crazy, beautiful form of expression … we both understand this perfectly.
When we cut to a stop by the lodge I’m breathing heavily, flushed and excited, so tingled with adrenaline that as Chase kicks off his board and grabs me all I can do is grin, my press at his chest not really resistance at all.
“They’re just inside. They’ll be able to see us.”
“Don’t care,” Chase growls. “You look so fucking good when you board.”
I grip him as hard as he grips me, nuzzling my face into the bump of his, little breaths of want escaping me as his stubble scrapes my skin and his teeth catch at my lip for a bite. “So do you.”