Royal Hearts (Love At The Lake #2)

Chapter 13

Thirteen

WINTER

B reathe, fucker. Breathe. This cannot be the image I project.

My mom and dad know I’m afraid of heights. If they’re watching they’ll realize I’m on the brink of a meltdown right now. I hope they never watch, because if I have to hear my father say, mind over matter, Winter , one more time?—

“And then I traveled to Ibiza—” Lexi H. has been talking non-stop, I don’t think she’s even noticed my freak-out. Good. Hopefully, no one has noticed. I just need to make it off this lift in one piece without screaming.

“I’ve been thinking about getting my captain’s license and sailing to Ibiza,” I manage to grunt out, the opposite of dashing while clinging to a safety bar.

“Ooooh, a captain. That’s sexy. Ahoy, my matey,” she winks.

I offer her a tight smile, the best I can do while I press my thumb into a black heart on my wrist so forcefully that it’ll surely leave a bruise .

But it appears I’ve fallen behind in the conversation because she goes on, “Three kids really is the magic number. People say two, but I think it’s three. I have two sisters and when one of us is being a raging bi—, I mean, brat,” she smiles sweetly over her shoulder at Robbie and his camera, “there’s a tiebreaker sister to say who’s right and who’s crazy—I mean, shit that word’s been canceled, right?” She turns in her chair, rocking the tiny thing precariously enough to make me want to call for Annie. Whimper her name like Mommy, but I haven’t got that type of mommy that would come running, so I’d call Annie . . .

“Hey!” she yells to Robbie, about twenty feet behind us. I risk a glance and feel my heart jump into my throat. Bad idea, Winter. Eyes on the sky. “Can you edit that out? I don’t want people to hear me say crazy. Crazy’s been canceled.”

This fucking woman.

“Almost there,” I breathe, when I see the lift crest the top of the pulley system, the tracks coming into sight under my skis, almost there.

“So, three kids works for you, right? Is that enough for a royal? I mean, heir and a spare plus one has to be good enough, right?”

My skis hit the snow with a crunch, and I push off with my poles heading straight to a cabin dotted with benches and heat lamps where people stop to warm up. My heart races and my stomach is throwing an absolute fit.

I push the tip of my pole into the back of my ski, then the other. And I’m out.

Lexi skis up alongside, pulling an impressive hockey stop that scatters snow across my boots as I drop to a bench. The air is too thin up here.

“Where are you going?” Sun glints off her perfect teeth, nearly blinding me.

“I can’t breathe,” I rasp, dropping my head in my hands.

“Oh.” Reluctantly, she pops her skis off and sits next to me. Rubs my back. It’s nice. “I’m feeling it, too,” she says, right into the shell of my ear.

I pull back and try not to vomit all over her. My guts are pushing up my sternum. It’s a panic attack I’ve felt a few times when I’ve gone too high, my vertigo kicking in and making me wish I was dead. “Wait, um, Lexi.”

Desperately, I push up my sleeve and press my thumb so hard into Cat’s heart, I have to bite down to bear it. But it grounds me, and the slight pain gives me something to think about other than my queasy stomach and lack of oxygen.

“Lexi H. There are three Lexis here,” she says.

Even through my dizzy vision and rolling stomach, I pat myself on the back for getting her name right.

“Lexi—”

“Yes, baby?—”

My head snaps up. “Did you just call me baby?”

“How about, you call me baby,” she giggles. “Lexi baby, that’s what I like to be called. I’m a feminist, we ask for what we want. And you should like that about me, because now you know how to make me?—”

“Oh God,” I groan, as my throat tightens. I try to gulp down some air, searching for ways to settle my stomach and my mind, but she keeps talking.

“I know. I know,” she moans, clocking Robbie as he comes to a stop in front of us— oh, dear Lord, she’s leaning in .

I lean away but the woman stretches like taffy on the bench, up to her knees and long-necked like a goose on the lake. Her lips are seconds from hitting mine. I can’t think how to push her away without looking like a real asshole, but I’m gonna puke if she breathes on me again and?—

“Cut!” Cat yells, running up to us.

“Excuse me?” Lexi H. demands, her hands wrapped around both my cheeks and staying put as her eyes swivel slowly to Cat .

“You can’t yell cut!” Marco bellows, coming off a lift not far away. “We’re streaming!”

“You called action,” Cat hurls back at him, then takes a knee, getting on eye level with me and my date. “Lexi, he’s about to spew all over you.”

“Commercial!” Marco yells to no one in particular, tossing his clipboard in the air. It hits the snow with a smack.

Cat’s enjoying this, smirking through her words, eating my embarrassment with a spoon. Still, I’m not mad that she’s intervening. In fact, at this moment, Cat Bloomfield feels heaven-sent.

“What?” Lexi rears back.

“Here,” Cat chucks a bottle of water in my hand, already open and sloshing over my knuckles as if she’s read me like a book and knows there’s no time.

“Ohmigodthankyou,” I blurt as I dump the thing down my throat. Then I drop my head between my legs and try to breathe.

“What’s wrong with him? I seriously doubt you could captain a ship if a ski lift makes you this sick.” The disgust in Lexi’s voice is so acidic, I realize I’m fucking up the show without even trying.

“He’s got vertigo,” Cat says calmly. “Give us a minute.” She stands, rubbing the arms of her flimsy leather jacket and huffs as if she’s got zero patience for the situation.

The commanding tone of Cat’s voice sends Lexi H. scurrying.

Water helps. So does the quiet. Also, Cat’s fingertips which are currently squeezing my left earlobe give me something to focus on while I try to rein in the spins.

“Heights, huh?” Cat drops onto the bench next to me. “Not so cocky now, are you, pretty man?” She averts her eyes when she sees my thumb still pressing into the heart on my wrist.

“That’s helping.”

“The ear? Good. It’s an old trick.”

“One you’ve used, personally?” I ask.

“Maybe. I don’t struggle with anxiety often but I loved skiing when I was little. Sometimes the mountain got to me. The thought of racing down a black diamond was a terrifying challenge that I was obsessed with conquering, despite the thought making me sick—I have an emotional stomach. This helped.”

“And you prevailed.”

“I did.”

“I’m not cocky, by the way. I prefer confident. There’s a difference.” She makes a sound as if she’s begrudgingly agreeing with me and I peek up at her, pressing my forearms to my knees to get a good look at her face.

“My dad has vertigo, too. And when we skied as a family, my mom always pinched his ear when he felt an episode coming on.”

“Must be nice, to have someone to lean on like that.”

“Yeah,” her voice softens, “must be.”

My vision stills, no longer blurry, and I watch her watching the lift a few yards off in the distance. When I follow her gaze, I notice Robbie has backed off, his camera still on his shoulder making sweeps of the scene probably for a montage or something.

Still, I know better. “I don’t want to talk about this while we’re mic’d.”

She’s shivering and lets out a long sigh through chattering teeth. “You should have put that in your contract: no heights. They’re not paying attention to us. The date’s over.”

I peer at Robbie again. Everyone’s mic’d, everyone signed NDAs, they’re filming everything and she’s lying to herself if she thinks she’s going to be excluded for some reason.

“Why’d you get on the lift?” she presses.

“Why don’t you have a decent coat?”

“Why are you evading my question?” She turns her chocolate gaze on me and I think of some fancy pots of fondue, dipping strawberries through hot, thick, chocolate and then denying her a taste. “Scared to answer?”

Damn, I’m attracted to her. There’s no rationalizing it or denying it.

I shake my head, trying to banish all thoughts of chocolate. “ It’s been a while since I’ve tried and I thought, maybe today was the day I’d conquer the fear. Not quite.”

“What else are you afraid of, Winter Larsen?” Whether she knows it or not, she’s allowing me to scoot a little closer to her.

I square my shoulders to block the wind. “Not telling unless you give me one of yours. I already endeared myself to you in the bathroom today.”

“Now, that’s something you don’t hear every day,” she quips, maybe as uncomfortable as I am with how sincere our conversations seem to be getting every time we speak.

“It’s only fair. Otherwise, you hold all the power.”

She stops rubbing my ear as if she realized what she was doing. “Power, of course, that’s what this is about for you. Every time I think you’re not a total monster?—”

“It’s only natural for me to ask your insecurities if I’m going to bear my own.” It’s what I want people to see, the Winter she’s talking about. And I should let her go on thinking she’s right.

“Well, I hate to tell you: I don’t have any fears, not since I was a kid. Fears are for weak people.” She cups her hands and blows into them, her tiny fingers white with cold.

“No fear, hmm? You better watch out, you’re going to get canceled with that kind of talk. Stephen would have a field day with you.”

“Stephen?”

“Life coach, and personal trainer.”

“Of course,” she says sarcastically. “All those muscles bought and paid for.”

I ignore her jab and take the compliment, “You like my muscles?” I ask, puffing up my chest a little for her.

She punches me on the shoulder. “Good thing I’m not a contestant and it doesn’t matter what I like.”

I scoot a touch closer, watching her shiver, desperately wanting to wrap my arms around her—enemy or not. “Good thing. Except, you’ve revealed your biggest fear anyway. ”

As much as I’d like to press her about liking my body, and how I keep finding ways to touch her and she keeps letting me, I dig a little deeper. In a shocking turn of events, I sincerely want to know what makes this woman tick.

“What?”

“Weakness. Cat Bloomfield thinks she has to be the strongest person in the room, horribly afraid of appearing weak. I wonder why that is?”

She tries hard to keep her features neutral, but I see it. I’ve hit the nail on the head.

“Just because you say it out loud, doesn’t make it true.” She straightens her back and lifts her chin. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Those deep brown eyes ignite, daring me to argue with her. I’m more than happy to oblige. “I know you’re freezing your ass off and even that is a show of strength for you.”

She sniffs, unaffected. “I didn’t have time to get a winter coat.”

I bite down on my molars.

That doesn’t track with the prima donna I’ve made her out to be in my head. That woman would have taken care of herself first, before worrying about posting for a tiny coffee shop in L.A., if the owner of her small agency succeeded, or if her roommate was okay with her being gone over the holiday.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I don’t know anything about you, do I?”

She turns to me, little flecks of ice in her hair from the flurries floating around us, “Really? You’re admitting you’re wrong and I’m right?”

There’s still fire in her eyes, but maybe a little curiosity as she regards me, too.

Maybe I’m confusing her as much as she’s confusing me.

When I don’t respond, at a loss for what to say next, she stands and walks off.

The rest of the women have made it to the top of the mountain, hovering in clusters with steaming cups in mittened hands sporting eager faces. Cat points one of them back to me with a big smile on her face.

Robbie catches on and starts my way.

I drain the last of my water and crunch the bottle in my fist.

Dammit, Bloom.