Devoted to the Blizzard: A romantic winter thriller (Tellure Hollow Book 3) (7 page)

Paige was flirtatious, but I chalked it up to her personality. It’s how bartenders made tips, after all, but I found myself having a great time, barely noticing how late Liz was. By the time she showed up, I was half way through my fourth bottle, and feeling pretty tipsy.

“Hey there. I’m so sorry,” Liz said as she flopped onto the stool beside me.

I looked up quickly, my vision swaying more than I liked. “There you are! I’ve been waiting for you.” Between the slur in my speech and the smirk on her face, I knew I was pretty drunk.

“Uh huh. You feeling all right, babe? Did you get anything to eat?” she asked with humor in her voice.

“Nope!” I declared proudly. “I wanted to wait for you. There’s a great place I found we could go to in town. It’s been a long time since we had a real date night.”

Liz rested her elbows on the bar and groaned. Her hair was damp and dark, slicked back in a low bun. She smelled clean, fresh from the showers downstairs. “Do we have to right now? Can’t we get something from here? I’m starving and exhausted and…”

“Sure, yeah,” I said, waving Paige over. I felt like I had the whole situation under control. My baby was hungry, so it was my job to get her food. I knew how distractingly famished you could get after a long day of skiing and I wanted to treat her.

“What’s up, sweetie?” Paige asked as she rounded the corner of the bar. Her eyes went wide when she spotted Liz. “Holy crap! Bry, you didn’t tell me she was your girlfriend?” She clapped her hands together once and rushed over.

“
Bry
?” Liz glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “Fiancée, actually,” she said to Paige.

“Of course! I remember hearing you’d be here. I saw your cover on
Sports Illustrated
. That was something fierce,” Paige gushed. Her mouth fell open as she focused on me. “Which means you’re The Blizzard! Holy crap, why didn’t you say something?”

“That’s right,” Liz replied with a smile. Her tone was light and to anyone but me, she sounded friendly. I chanced a look and saw the strain of forced politeness on her face.

She loathed the entire piece
Sports Illustrated
had done on her, dubbing her the Winter Storm Warning. What was meant to be her first real interview as a professional athlete had turned into yet another article about me, painting her as the sidekick. When the issue came out, she’d completely flown off the handle. Took the truck out for a drive and didn’t come back for half a day. My buddy Walt told me later that week the town gossips were claiming she’d bought every copy in Tellure Hollow and burned them down by the river. Bizarrely, I could almost see her doing something just like that.

I quickly stepped in. “She’s the star now.”

“Oh stop. You broke more than a few records,” Paige said as she reached across the bar to touch my arm.

“Uh huh. So, could we order some food?” I replied quickly, placing a hand on Liz’s knee. Even buzzed, I could feel the tension between the two girls, though neither outwardly showed it. Women were funny like that, sometimes.

“Ooooh, I’m so sorry, but the kitchen just closed. Do you want me to see if I can scrounge up something for you?”

“Freakin’ great,” Liz muttered. “No, that’s okay. I’d rather not have to eat something scrounged.” She ran a hand over the top of her hair, smoothing it out. It was an unconscious habit she did when something was annoying her. “Let’s just go home, find something there.”

“There’s actually a really great burger place in town, if you’re heading past it. I can call in an order for you, if you want. I know the manager there. It’ll be ready by the time you get down there.”

My stomach grumbled at the idea of a big juicy burger. “Absolutely yes. Please and thank you.”

I grinned widely at Liz, expecting her to be happy with the solution. Instead, she arched an eyebrow and sighed. “I suppose I’m driving then?”

____________

I’d finished half the fries before we made it back to the house, unable to resist the siren song of grease and salt. As we sat around the center island in the kitchen, the delicious smell of burgers filling the room, Liz’s good nature returned.

“All good?” I asked around a big bite.

She nodded and wiped her mouth with a paper towel. “Sorry if I was a bitch earlier. I was just hungry and angry. Hangry,” she giggled. “Must’ve burned ten thousand calories today and seeing that girl all over you…”

I snorted. “She wasn’t all over me.”

“Oh, come on,” Liz rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I’m jealous or anything. But that whole thing where she pretended she didn’t know who you were? Please. How many times has someone recognized me and not you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t keep count of things like that.” My head was starting to clear, the fog of alcohol burning off with all the grease.

“None. Never. That’s how many times.” Liz took another bite of the burger. The thing was so big she needed two hands to lift it. “Stupid freakin’ article,” she muttered.

I braced myself for the usual tirade. They’d focused on her relationship with me, the murders in Tellure Hollow, the fact that her father was an active Marine, the tragic death of her mother. For a sports magazine, they wrote very little on her genuine talent, her chances of bringing home medals, the countless hours of training and dedication to the sport. She was absolutely right to complain about the whole thing, but it was an argument I’d heard so many times, I could play out both sides. But not that night. That night, she was too tired to go into it all, which is saying something for Liz.

After a couple more bites, Liz dropped the burger and declared defeat. “I’m stuffed. It’s all yours.” She leaned back and lifted her shirt to reveal her stomach. With all the training, she’d lost a thin layer of body fat, revealing the shadow of abs hard earned in the gym. She patted her round belly and groaned. “I’m preggers with a food baby,” she laughed.

“Lovely image,” I chuckled. I reached across the counter for the rest of her burger.

“I’m gonna go check the mail, check email, shower, and collapse into bed. Do you want to join me in any of that?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“Hmmm, the last two please,” I laughed.

She slid down from the chair with a groan, her bare feet slapping on the cold tile, and kissed my cheek as she walked by. “I’ll give you a shout when I’m ready. All hot and wet and ready,” she purred. “But I’m tired. You’re doing all the work.”

Even though she was half-kidding, my cock stirred a little at the thought. I sat content. My belly full, my body warm and relaxed from the beer, and the promise of a sexy woman in my arms. For a few moments, all was right in the world.

Then Liz screamed. “Motherfucker!” It was half shout, half cry. I jogged to the living room and found her at the computer desk.

“What’s wrong?”

With her jaw set and cheeks pink with fury, she waved a piece of paper in the air. “Another one. Another freakin’ letter! How did they find us?”

I took the stairs to the living room two at a time, ignoring the twinge of pain in my hip. She practically threw the paper at me with a sob of frustration.

At the top of the letter was a clipping from a newspaper, a headline that read, “Winter Storm Fizzles Out.” Below, in an ornately drawn script was the number eight.

“I wouldn’t worry about…” I tried to comfort her but I was at a loss for words.
About what? What does this even mean?

Liz looked up at me with dark, worried eyes. “It’s a countdown. What the hell are they counting down to? Christ, this is the last thing I need! Who is doing this? Do you think it’s Nicole? She called me Winter Storm in the airport before we left.”

I put the letter face down on the desk and crouched in front of her. “We’re gonna ignore this happened and go take a nice, long shower. There’s nothing we can do about it right now, right?”

Liz looked away, chewing the inside of her cheek so hard I thought she might start to bleed. “Hmmmm…”

“Talk to Josh in the morning, get him to help us go to the police with it. It’s probably nothing, just some weirdo wanting to mess with you. The last thing you want to do is let them get in your head, right?”

Deep in worried thought, she stared at the clipping again and nodded. “Sure. Tomorrow.”

With as much as she relied on me for emotional support, I couldn’t reveal how freaked out the letter really made me. I gritted my teeth and led the way to the shower, hoping to pull her away from the stalker and any further distraction.

After several restless hours of staring at the ceiling, the room was undoubtedly beginning to brighten. Despite my fatigue from training, it’d taken me forever to get to sleep. When my eyes finally did shut out of pure exhaustion, my rest had only lasted a few hours. I rolled over, glanced at the time. As the minute ticked up, I was reminded of the countdown this stalker held over my head. My brain was kind enough to immediately pick up the thread of worry right where I’d left it the night before.

Positive there was no chance of finding any more rest, I slid quietly from the huge bed. Bryan stirred as I opened the bedroom door, so I was careful to step lightly out of the room and down the dusky hallway. The silence of the house was broken only by a few exotic sounding birds chirping about the coming daylight. I opened a half dozen cupboards before finding the ingredients for the one thing I desperately needed… coffee. A few minutes later, I sat at the kitchen island with a warm cup pressed between my hands, my thoughts jumbled and confusing.

I picked through a magazine that had come in the mail and recognized it as a local publication Josh said wanted to do an interview with me later in the week. I nibbled on a bran muffin, played solitaire on my phone, but try as I might, I couldn’t take my mind off the letter sitting by the laptop. It called to me, begged to be addressed in some fashion. All I wanted to do was tear it to shreds or burn it, like I’d done to all those
Sports Illustrated
magazines. Fire was cathartic, but it wouldn’t help catch this psycho.

I understood Bryan’s logic. We couldn’t do anything about the letters and they probably were nothing more than some overzealous fan. I had to ignore it and not give them the satisfaction, yet something about it just didn’t sit right. After the last couple years, it was understandable I’d have a few trust issues. It wasn’t so much fear as the experience that a threat ignored rarely went away on its own.

I knocked back the remainder of my first cup and groaned. “You’re being ridiculous, Elizabeth,” I muttered, hearing more my dad’s voice than my own. I pushed off the chair, and marched towards the letter like I was confronting an enemy. I snatched it up, stomped back to the kitchen, poured myself another cup of coffee, and stared at it from a distance. I tried to think analytically, search for any clues or hints while keeping my emotions out of it.

What does this person want? What are they trying to achieve? This obviously has something to do with the race… could it be a competitor? Someone like that would probably know my movements, like when I came to the country, where I’d be staying…

Before I could mull over that thought too long, I heard the crunch of wheels on the gravel drive. Glancing at the time, I wondered who could pulling up to the house so early. With more than a little lump in my throat, I crept towards the front door and peered through the glass sides. I released a breath when I saw Josh step out of a Jeep Wrangler.

In a flurry, I smoothed my hair back, rolled down the waist of my sweatpants, and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I had no desire for any other man but Bryan, but I didn’t want to feel like such a slob in front of someone so gorgeous. Before he could knock, I opened the door with a smile.

“Whoa there!” he jumped back.

I held a finger to my lips and whispered. “Bryan’s still sleeping. What are you doing here?” He waved a thick manila envelope in response. “You want a cup of coffee?”

Recovering quickly, he flashed a dangerously charming smile and nodded. “Totally.”

Gliding around the kitchen, I handed him a fresh cup and grabbed my own, gesturing to the outside deck. At the last moment, I grabbed the letter from the counter, resisting the urge to ball it up in my fist then and there.

“So, what’s up? I didn’t expect to see you so early,” I said as I shut the accordion doors. The morning was crisp but not cold enough that my breath was visible. Compared to the heat of Colorado, the cold felt refreshing. I pulled the sleeves of my oversized sweatshirt around my wrists.