Double Dare You. Cara Lockwood

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СКАЧАТЬ his life, Allie had trouble choking down food. She had trouble sleeping. She had trouble doing everything. But day by day, week by week, she’d gotten better.

      “New glasses?” he asked her. He’d noticed. That was something.

      “Yeah,” she said and nodded.

      “I like them.” She beamed in the compliment and then mentally berated herself. Why did she care if he liked her glasses? His gaze flicked downward, slowly, taking in her tight cashmere sweater and skinny jeans, paired with a sky-high pair of stiletto boots. Impractical for the Aspen weather, but necessary for navigating the single scene. “You look…thin, Al.”

      She heard the note of concern in his voice. As if he had a right to be concerned. Aspen was a small place, and so avoiding her for the last two months took some doing. He’d been almost surgical in his precision. So it was clear that he’d done it on purpose. So why did he care how she was now? She glanced up at him and wished she hadn’t. A little worry line etched his forehead, marring his otherwise perfect skin. He almost looked as if he truly cared. That, she knew, would be her undoing. “You doing okay?”

      The air felt suddenly thin then, and she knew it had nothing to do with the altitude, even though they were perched probably somewhere around 8,000 feet high in the Rocky Mountains. She’d lived in Aspen for years, and the altitude never got to her. Her sudden light-headedness had everything to do with Beck.

      “Al?” he prodded, and Allie realized she’d not answered his question. She was busy just staring at him like a fool. Her baser instincts had taken over, clearly, her body in control. But her brain wasn’t going to tolerate it for long. It hummed the truth: it was none of his damn business how she was doing. He hadn’t cared two months ago, so why should he now? He was the one who’d run away. She wanted to ask why, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

      “I’m fine.” There was an edge to her voice, one she hadn’t intended. Unable to handle the weight of his gaze any longer, she looked away. She tried to find something—someone—more interesting at the bar but failed. Even the moderately cute-ish bartender with the floppy brown hair and the lopsided grin who kept sending looks her way suddenly paled in comparison to Beck. His massive shoulders, the easy way he held the beer he was drinking, the bottle looking small in his huge hands, like a doll’s plaything. She looked at the bartender, even though all of her other senses were completely focused on Beck, standing less than two feet from her. She could almost feel his body heat through the T-shirt he wore beneath his worn leather bomber jacket. His defined pecs begging to be stroked beneath the thin cotton fabric. Why did he have to look so damn…delectable? She suddenly hated Beck and his stupid muscles and the caring look on his face. His just-rolled-out-of-some-model’s-bed sex appeal. Remember, he probably did. That musky, manly scent coming from him was probably just stale sex.

      The thought jolted her to the present. He was a walking rabbit hole. One step too close and she’d fall in again.

      “Beck!” squealed Channing, as the tiny blonde bounced up to the three of them and locked her arm inside his. She was wearing a ridiculous Santa hat and a red corset top that she was practically spilling out of and too-thick false eyelashes that made it look like spiders were crawling across her eyelids. Trying too hard, Allie thought. She knew Beck well enough to know he hated that. One of his biggest turnoffs. Channing didn’t even acknowledge Allie or Mira, choosing instead to tug her prize away from them. “You have to meet my boss. She’s right over there. She’s the one I told you about. The one who books tours.”

      At the sound of possible new business, Beck’s interest diverted from Allie to Channing. Not that he needed new business. His extreme mountain tours and heli-skiing excursions were the best in Aspen. Everyone knew that. At the height of tourist season, he had to turn away customers. Everybody wanted to go on a ski expedition with the two-time silver medal Olympic champion. Few people seemed to care if he had a death wish, always pushing things a bit harder, a bit farther than he should. Channing glanced at Allie. “Don’t waste time here. Come on.” Before she left, she turned and murmured “Greenie” beneath her breath. Allie wasn’t even sure she’d heard right. Greenie? What the hell did that mean?

      Channing pulled Beck through the crowd, and he went, casting one more look over his shoulder. Concern once more on his face. Don’t fall for it, she told herself. He’s not really worried. It’s all just part of the game.

      “Good riddance,” Mira almost spit, glaring at his retreating figure.

      “What does ‘Greenie’ mean?” Allie asked Mira, who glanced at her, suddenly looking guilty.

      “Nothing,” Mira said, but she bit her lip, a telltale sign she was lying. Allie had known Mira for years, and she was one of the first people she’d met in Aspen.

      “You know what it means.”

      Mira hesitated. “Well…”

      “Spit it out.” Now Allie was beginning to be frustrated. It had to be bad, because Mira was stalling. The strand of hair popped loose from Allie’s ear, and she twirled it around her finger. Suddenly, she felt anxious.

      “Well…look, I saw somebody’s Snap about you. It was one of Beck’s…friends.” She said it with disdain, so Allie knew she meant one of the many women rotating through his bedroom. “I guess…well, I guess someone—I don’t even know who, actually—gave you a nickname.” Mira took a deep breath. “Greenie, as in a green run.”

      “What does a bunny hill have to do with me? I’m a decent skier.” She wasn’t an Olympic champion, but she was a black-diamond skier. She’d been skiing for years and thought she was pretty good.

      “It doesn’t have anything to do with skiing,” Mira said. “They mean that you play it safe.”

      She was an accountant born in a family of non-risk-taking accountants. Of course she played it safe. The only risky thing her parents ever did was occasionally go about two miles over the speed limit. Her parents had raised her to be afraid of almost everything: strangers, trampolines, drugs, driving too fast in the rain, and the list went on and on.

      “And what’s wrong with that?” Allie challenged.

      “Well, nothing—except when you’re in bed.”

      “Wait… You mean…”

      Mira gave her a knowing look and the full realization hit Allie. Beck thought she was boring in life and in bed. Plain Jane. Greenie? The unfairness of it felt like a slap. She was not boring in bed, at least she didn’t think she was with Beck. In that damn lodge, she’d done things with him that she’d never done with anyone else. But maybe Beck’s pulse had barely ticked up a notch. Oh, God. Maybe that was why she’d never heard from him again. Maybe…she’d bored him so much he ran away.

      She felt a deep, stinging embarrassment, and heat rushed through her from her nose to the roots of her hair. Had he measured her against the dozens and dozens of other women he’d taken to his bed and found her wanting? Had the best sex in her life…turned out to be the worst for him? She felt a hard, slick pit at the bottom of her stomach, an oily nauseating mess. She suddenly badly wanted the floor of the bar to open up and swallow her whole.

      “But you’re not. You know that, right? You are not boring.” Mira was babbling now, trying to comfort Allie in a rush. “You’re badass awesome, and if he can’t see that, then screw him. Who cares what he thinks or anybody else thinks? I know you’re amazing and fun, and if he doesn’t, СКАЧАТЬ