Kiss Me (Townsend Legacy)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

T ania

“That’s it, Tania … Look this way,” the famed sports photographer encourages as he shifts his body toward the right.

I keep the smile plastered on my face as I pivot to face the camera.

“Yes, just like that,” he compliments.

Despite the ache in my cheeks from hours of smiling, I hold my expression while doing my best not to become blinded by the sun’s reflection off of the snow and mountains surrounding us.

I’m currently at one of the most exclusive ski and snowboarding resorts in the country. Only a select few are allowed to book this resort during the holiday season. Especially at the last minute, like I did.

Thankfully, my Olympic gold-medal status was enough to get the resort owners to rent my assistant and me the last suite available for the week before Christmas.

That and the added bonus of the resort getting featured as backdrop for this last-minute photoshoot.

“Just a few more,” the photographer comments. “Can you turn this way?” He moves to the left a couple of steps, obviously wanting me to turn my body to follow the direction.

“Make sure to get the logo on the pants,” Janine, a rep from the sports apparel brand sponsoring this photoshoot, reminds the photographer.

Janine turns to me. “Tania, can you hold the snowboard behind your head?”

Following instructions, I lift the new snowboard, which Janine’s company gifted me, over my head and place it on my shoulders to get the signature shot.

I know I’ve struck the perfect pose when the photographer gushes and Janine applauds.

“This will look brilliant in Sports Demonstrated !” she comments, referring to the famed sports magazine.

“How about we try to get some shots of you riding down the slopes?”

I open my mouth, feeling excited for the first time in hours since this shoot began. However, my assistant quickly dashes those hopes.

“We can’t,” Liza intervenes. “Tania needs to rest her ankle. She’s already been on her feet long enough. We should wrap this up soon.”

My ankle .

Right.

I shift my body to take the weight off of my right ankle.

“I almost forgot.” The photographer frowns. “I was looking forward to seeing you in action, but your recovery takes priority with the X Games coming up next month.”

A glance over at Liza reveals she’s already in action, asking the few staff members from the magazine and sports brand to begin packing up. Not for the first time, I’m grateful for my reliable and stern when she needs to be assistant.

I make a mental note to double her Christmas bonus this year.

“We’ll need just a few more shots and then we can wrap it up,” the photographer says.

It sounds like music to my ears. Typically, I don’t mind photoshoots, but my whole reason for coming out to this exclusive resort in Northern California was to leave work behind for the next week, at least.

Somehow, though, this photoshoot landed on my schedule, and when my dad said the brand and photographer promised the shoot wouldn’t compromise my ankle injury, I felt like I had no choice but to agree.

About twenty minutes later, Liza hands me my crutch, tucking it under my right armpit as we watch both the photographer and his team pack up their equipment.

“Well, that went hell, huh?” she asks.

“We’ll see next month when the spread comes out,” I reply.

Liza smirks. “What are you talking about? You look great in this black and white jumpsuit. And your braids look fire over your shoulders in all of the shots,” she compliments.

I peer down at the jumpsuit from the apparel company. It does fit great, and the logos are perfectly placed where they can be seen but aren’t too showy in displaying the brand’s name.

“Dad made the right choice in going with this company,” I tell her. “The material’s perfect too. Not too itchy or bulky during my rides. Maybe I should take this one out later and—” I cut myself off, realizing what I was about to say.

“And what?” Liza asks, but her attention is on the phone in her hands. Her thumbs fly furiously over the screen.

“Never mind. Lunch should be ready soon, right? I’m starving.”

“Yes.” She stuffs her phone in the back pocket of her jeans and then finishes with, “The chef agreed to stick to the special menu your dad sent over from your nutritionist.”

I barely stifle my groan. “I bet he did,” I mumble. “Is that who you were just texting?”

Liza nods, confirming my suspicions. “He wanted to know how the shoot went. I told him everything went smoothly. I—” She’s cut off and reaches for her phone again.

“That’s him,” she says, looking at her phone. “He’s requesting some untouched images.”

I roll my eyes. “Didn’t we get pre-approval already?”

“We did, but you know how Mr. Casey is. Your father doesn’t settle for anything but the best.”

“Especially not when it comes to his Ace,” Liza and I say at the same time.

A genuine smile crosses my lips. While I wouldn’t consider us the best of friends, she and I have developed a friendly bond in the two years since she’s taken on the role of my business and personal assistant.

Not that I have anything close to a personal life. Not with a schedule as tight as mine. And especially not with a Dad-ager-slash-agent who takes special care to ensure every aspect of my life is free of distractions or even the hint of a scandal.

“Oh, and he?—”

Covering her phone with my hand, I stop Liza. I slide her phone from her hands and press the power button, turning the screen black. “We’ve both been up since six a.m. How about we take some time off and go have lunch?” I suggest.

Except, it’s not a suggestion. Which I make clear by slipping her cell into the pocket of my jumpsuit.

“But what if?—”

“My dad will be okay for an hour or two without a response. Let’s eat.” I press the crutch I don’t really need to my side before wrapping my free arm around hers.

“Be careful of your ankle,” she warns, frowning as she looks down at my ankle. “Lean on me more.” She holds firm to my arm, making me lean more of my weight onto her smaller five-foot-three frame.

“We should get those boots off of you ASAP. I’ll have the staff bring out some ice packs and pillows so you can elevate it while we eat.”

“Right,” I say under my breath. “My ankle.”

Another scan of the dining area doesn’t reveal anything out of the ordinary. Yet, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.

“What’s the matter?” Liza questions. “Is it your ankle? I knew we should’ve taken a seat on the couch instead of at a table. Let me?—”

I stay her with my hand over hers. “My ankle is fine.” I peer over at my right leg propped up on one of the black fancy leather chairs, a pillow underneath my ankle and a wrapped, half-melted ice pack over it.

“There wasn’t even any swelling, remember?” I remind her.

She nods. “That’s right. You’re lucky. After standing on your ankle for hours during that shoot. The sprain must be healing quickly, just like the doctor said,” she finishes.

A twinge of guilt grips my chest, but it isn’t given time to fester before our private waiter is back at our table.

The cute redhead smiles down at the both of us, but his eyes linger on Liza. “The chef personally made an extra batch of gingerbread cookies for your table.”

“Mmm, excellent,” I say and snatch a cookie from the plate.

They’re still warm.

“Thank yo— Wait, cookies aren’t on your meal plan,” Liza chimes as she starts to reach across the table.

“Don’t even think about it.” I bite off the left leg of my gingerbread man and savor the spiciness of the ginger mixed with the sweet cinnamon taste of the cookie. My body warms with fond, childhood memories of this time of year.

“If your dad finds out …” She trails off as I level a glare at her.

“He won’t find out. Will he?”

She firms her lips together. I rarely put Liza in between battles between my father and me. Mostly, because I go along with whatever my father wants.

Which is also why Liza doesn’t know anything about the secret I’m keeping from her.

And my father.

“I suppose a cookie or two won’t ruin anything,” she mumbles, her eyes going back to her phone screen.

My assistant doesn’t notice the hot waiter staring at her.

“Please thank the chef on Tania’s behalf,” she tells him, finally looking up at him. I don’t miss the way her eyes widen slightly. Her lips twitch but the full smile doesn’t emerge.

“Also, can you make sure he has the meal plan that was sent over? Ms. Casey is a professional athlete, on a very strict meal plan, and with the X Games?—”

“Everything was wonderful. Please send our compliments to the chef,” I cut off Liza.

He nods. “Please let me know if there’s anything else you need, Ms. Casey …” He pauses, as if hesitating, before finishing with, “I’m a huge fan, by the way. That back-to-back backside 1980 you landed at the last Olympics to win gold was sick,” he compliments.

“They say you’re the best female to ever snowboard. Maybe even best snowboarder ever,” he continues.

My stomach tightens with that feeling I’ve been experiencing over the past few months. My breathing becomes shallow, and I have to remind myself to deepen my breaths.

“Th-Thank you.” I clear my throat.

His eyes light up, but not in the same way they did when he looked at Liza. “Do you think you’ll try it again in next month’s X Games?”

I nod, my chest tightening. “Um, we’ll see.”

His gaze returns to Liza, who’s back on her phone. I knew I shouldn’t have given her that damn thing before lunch was over.

“I’ll give your compliments to the chef.” He nods and then heads off in the direction of the kitchen.

“He’s cute,” I say, watching the waiter who looks to be about my same age of twenty-five walk away.

“Hmm?” Liza asks, her attention still on the phone in her hands.

“He was totally checking you out,” I tell her.

She peeks up at me with a furrow between her eyebrows. “Someone was checking you out? Should I call security?”

With a shake of my head, I ask, “Are you serious? Do you even notice anything that’s going on around you?”

Liza’s the most serious twenty-three year old I’ve ever met.

“Yes, but I need to respond to this email your father just sent. There’s a new snowboard company interested in sponsoring you.”

I hold up my hand. “We agreed to no work during lunch, didn’t we?”

Her shoulders slump before she slowly places her phone onto the table, face down. “Sorry.”

“Do you really want to make it up to me?”

Her forehead scrunches in confusion. “How?”

I spin toward the table, not even thinking about it as I lower my leg from the chair, shoving my foot back into my boot before leaning in conspiratorially.

“You could go talk to that very cute waiter, who’s obviously into you,” I reply.

She sputters but isn’t given the chance to reply.

“Oh my god, that’s Tania Casey,” a young, female voice says.

I glance over upon hearing my name to see an adolescent girl with big, curly hair and wide eyes coming my way.

“You’re amazing,” she gushes. “I never thought I’d even want to try skiing, but then my dad and I watched the X Games last year when you won gold. You were amazing.”

A genuine smile spreads across my lips, and for a moment, I’m back to being the thirteen-year-old girl looking up to the few women snowboarders I watched do their thing on the slopes.

None of those women looked quite like me though.

I move my waist-length black and blue braids over my shoulder.

“It’s nice to meet you …” I pause, waiting for her to fill in the gap.

“Eve Townsend,” she finishes at the same time a deep voice calls her name from somewhere across the dining area.

I glance over to see a tall, handsome man coming our way. His hazel eyes are planted on the young girl in front of me.

“Dad,” she says, “this is Tania Casey.” She gestures to me over her shoulder. “She’s here at the same resort as us.” She turns back to me. “Are you here for Christmas, too? What about your ankle? How is it healing? Are you still going to participate in the Games in January?”

“Eve, you were supposed to only go to the bathroom and back. Your aunt and I were waiting for you,” he scolds before looking over at me.

He gives me a polite nod. “Please excuse her,” he tells me. “She’s a huge fan of yours.” He looks down at her before turning his attention to me again.

“I’m Kyle Townsend.” He extends his hand, and I take hit.

He then wraps his arm around the little girl named Eve. She leans into his side, covering his arm with hers.

My heart squeezes. The scene reminds me of one of my favorite pictures of my dad and me in a very similar pose. Except we were out on the slopes, a huge mountain of snow behind us.

And the woman behind the camera laughing at the goofy face my father made was my mom.

The picture was taken only a few shorts years before everything changed.

“Can I get your autograph?”

“Eve,” her father admonishes.

She looks up at him. “What? You always say to go after what I want. No apologies.” She blinks up at him with what I know are puppy dog eyes.

He looks at me, a half-smirk on his face. It’s at this moment, I recognize this little girl has him wrapped around her finger.

“She’s a fan,” he says, almost apologetic.

“Kyle, what are you two doing?” A beautiful Black woman comes up behind the two, an infant in her arms.

He immediately wraps his free arm around the woman.

“Eve spotted Tania Casey and just asked for her autograph.”

The woman frowns. “Ladybug, can’t you see she’s eating her lunch. It’s rude …”

“But Dad said I?—”

“It’s no problem at all,” I say in between them, not wanting the girl to get into trouble. “Liza, do you have a pen?”

My assistant searches through her bag and pulls out the marker she always keeps on hand for me to sign autographs.

“Can you sign my hoodie? It’ll be awesome to have your autograph on my new jacket for my first snowboarding class tomorrow.”

She spins, presenting me with her back.

I look to her parents for their approval before signing her white puff jacket.

The woman rolls her eyes. “It’s not like he won’t just buy her another one anyway,” she says, half-laughing.

“No, I’m never taking this off,” Eve counters as I sign her coat.

“Thank you. I’m so sorry for interrupting your lunch,” the woman says as she rocks the baby in her arms.

Her husband, I presume, if the huge rock on her finger is any indication, takes the baby and begins rocking her.

“It’s no problem at all,” I tell her. “Honestly.”

Eve’s smile widens. “I can’t wait to show Stasi this. What time do they arrive, Aunt Riley?”

The woman, who I’d presumed to be her mother, responds, “In a few hours. Let’s leave Ms. Casey and her friend to finish their lunch in peace.” She waves my way. ‘Thank you again,’ she mouths over her shoulder.

“Thank you,” Eve says excitedly before surprising me with a hug.

“Eve,” the woman calls, but Eve only hugs me tighter.

“You’re going to do great at the X Games. Don’t worry about your ankle. I know it’ll heal fast.” She squeezes me tighter before letting go.

A longing invades my chest upon her release. It mixes with the guilt that already resides there, causing an odd mix of emotion I can’t put words to.

Once again, that prickling feeling that someone’s watching me crawls up my spine. I circle the room with my gaze. All I see are a few families sprinkled throughout the spacious dining area. Along with the family and young Eve, walking away.

I can’t bring myself to look at Liza across the table. Shame at my lie replaces the content feeling I had when Eve first introduced herself.

“Maybe we should do a meet and greet while you're here,” Liza suddenly says. “You know, your dad proposed doing something like that when you first brought up the idea of coming here to Wilson Slopes for the week.”

“No.” I shake my head.

“That’s what I told him at first. But seeing that young girl, I bet there are others who’ll be here this week who’d love to meet the Tania Casey. I can make a few calls …”

“No,” I tell her again more sternly before standing.

She quickly rises and moves to my side. “Be careful. Here’s your crutch.” She tucks the crutch under my arm, and I get the urge to hurl the damn thing across the room.

I bite back on that impulse.

“What’s wrong?” Liza asks, misinterpreting my expression. “You look a little sick. Is the sprain causing you pain? Dammit. Let’s head upstairs and we can use some of that ointment and I’ll have the staff bring up more ice packs.”

Every word from Liza was like pressing the sharp edge of my shame deeper into my chest.

“My ankle isn't the problem. I … I just need some time,” I tell her as I take a step away from the table.

“Let me know where. I can have a car—” She stops as I hold up my hand.

“Alone. I just need a little bit of space,” I tell her with as much patience as possible. It’s not Liza’s fault that I’m a liar who can’t even look a little girl in her face. “I’ll return soon.”

I don’t give her time to question where I’m going or exactly when I’ll be back as I head for the exit, crutch under my arm while making sure to not lean too much weight on my right ankle.

Liza’s watching me and she’ll have a fit if I do anything to make it seem as if I’m worsening my injury.

Only once I know I’m out of her sight do I take a deep breath. My mind races with thoughts. This was supposed to be a relaxing week to rest and recover before the frenzy begins after the New Year.

Yet, it feels like everything’s getting turned upside down.

Of course, at this moment is when my phone buzzes. My shoulders slump as I see the word “Dad-Ager” on the screen.

“Hey, Daddy,” I answer because I know he’ll continue calling if I don’t answer.

“How’s my Ace?” he answers. “Resting that ankle, I hope.”

I peer down at my booted feet. “Sure am.”

“Great. Liza told me the shoot went well this morning. We should get the untouched photos in a day or two. Then we can decide what looks good,” he says as I hear papers rustling in the background.

“We don’t have to rush on the photos,” I remind him. “Christmas is in a week.”

“Which is why we need the photos back soon. You know how many people like to take off during this time of year. And if we’re going to hit the ground running once your ankle heals, we need to make sure all is in order.”

I bite my tongue. My father is always two steps ahead when it comes to business. No, make that three. He likely has my schedule planned out through the end of 2026. With contingency plans to boot.

“Right. I was just thinking that the photographer or some of his staff have families they want to spend some time with during this time. It was already a big ask of them to come up here on such short notice.”

My father makes a noise at the back of his throat. “They were happy to do it. Especially once they heard about your ankle. Hell, I would’ve been there myself if I wasn’t in the middle of negotiations for Carl and Thomas for next season.”

My father run his own sports agency. While I’m the only athlete he manages full-time, he still handles some agent responsibilities for three of his other top athletes.

“But you don’t worry about a thing, Ace. Your job is to rest up and mentally prepare for January. I have to go, but I’ll call you in a day or two.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you more, Ace,” he replies before hanging up.

I remember I used to love that nickname that only he calls me. He’s called me it since the moment I took my first steps at eight months old.

Years later, though, it now feels a little more like a curse than a gift to be his Ace.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” I mumble before shaking off whatever this nostalgic feeling is that’s overcome me and head aimlessly in one direction.

Thankfully, I grabbed my pair of large sun goggles and winter hat before leaving. Though it’s not too cold, I wear the hat pulled low on my forehead and slide the goggles over my eyes. I hope in this get up no one will recognize me.

Although, my signature long, colorful braids might give me away. And this stupid crutch I have to carry around with me.

I walk aimlessly for a bit, not thinking of where I’ll end up. All I know is that I want to get away for a while. The crunch of the snow beneath my boots drowns out my thoughts. A small smile touches my lips when I come to a stream that cuts through a part of the wooded area, off of the main slopes of the resort.

After a while I look up to spot one of the lifts that carries skiers and snowboarders from this side of the mountain to the other, and I start in that direction.

I might not be able to actually get on a board, but being on the snow—even in just my boots—calms me down.

“Thank you,” I tell the attendee as he lifts the bar for me to take my seat on the lift.

I sit, adjust the crutch so it isn’t in the way of the bar, and get comfortable. The resort worker begins to lower the security bar, but he’s stopped when a man slips into the spot next to me.

His movement is so fast, I don’t have time to react.

“I’m with her,” the man says to the attendee while pointing at me.

I jut my head back.

“Wait, what …” My words aren’t given time to process before the lift starts moving.

I blink and then blink again. By the time I form words, the attendee is behind us and the ski lift rises higher and higher in the air.

I have every intention of ignoring the man beside me until this five-minute ride is over.

He, evidently, has other ideas. He turns to me, staring for a moment.

“You can remove those goggles. It’s just the two of us up here.” His voice is deep and smooth, like a perfect three-sixty on my board off of the back of a ramp.

“Did you hear me?” he asks.

I turn his way. “Do I know you?”

He takes his time removing the dark sunglasses, revealing his dark eyes squinting my way. Reflexively, my jaw tightens, pressing my teeth together.

I don’t want to have such a strong reaction to how perfect his face is, but I can’t help it. Beautifully tanned skin, jaw made of stone, and dark eyebrows that accent the almond shape of his eyes.

He cocks his head to the side.

I can answer my own question. No, I don’t know this man. I’d know it if I’d ever met him.

“Whether or not you know me isn’t the question,” he cockily answers.

“Then what is?”

His grin widens, and the expression causes my stomach to drop.

“The real question is why is the famous Tania Casey lying to the world about having an injured ankle?”