Page 67 of Well Played

Voices passing in the hallway broke into our bubble, and I pulled back slightly, fearful of being seen.

“Ashamed to be seen with me?” he breathed, making my panties wetter than they already were.

“Not at all,” I admitted. “I just thought maybe you…”

“What? Saw you as a conquest and was just waiting to brag to the guys?”

My heart chilled, and my back stiffened as I wondered if someone had set me up.

“Never,” he whispered and kissed my neck again. “I was raised by a traditional family, with values and morals,” he whispered, kissing my neck again. “Church on a Sunday. I have three strong-willed sisters and I don’t treat women as objects. My mother would kill me if I disrespected a woman.”

“Then why are you with me?” The question popped out before I could stop it.Great, now he will think I have low self-esteem.

“Because I want you. You are the only woman on this circuit that I find attractive on a physical, emotional, and intellectual level. I have been waiting for an opportunity to speak to you. We have so much in common. We can talk, we share the same passion, the same goals, but you are a good person Soph. I watch you out there, in your spare time, teaching the kids. Without being asked, you dedicate your time to help them with theirtechnique and treat them like they are worthy of your time. You don’t need to, but you do. You choose to give back, even though you are not obligated to, and I admire that.”

“You do as well,” I noted.

“My family raised me in a certain way. I am not from a wealthy family. I worked my way up and didn’t get a free ride. So, I see it as something I need to do. I competed with all those race club kids, those who ridiculed me because I had secondhand skis, didn’t have the most expensive coaches, and wasn’t a member of an elite club and wore a uniform. For many years, I was self-taught. All my junior races I entered as an independent. But when I started winning, the selectors needed to take notice of this skinny kid from Michigan who was beating the kids from the most elite ski clubs in North America.”

“Neither did I,” I admitted. “I am Australian. Ski seasons are short and unpredictable. My parents weren’t rich, but lived in a ski town because they valued the lifestyle. From the age of fifteen, I took a part-time job after school in the local supermarket so I could help pay for my gear and my training. My parents gave up so much for me to ski and train in the US during my summer holidays. I want to make them proud.”

“They are. Just the way you speak about your family, with so much love and respect, they know.”

“They only ever set two conditions on me.”

“What were they?”

It was getting harder to focus on my words as his hands caressed my back. “The first was that I only did it while I loved it. The minute I stopped loving it, I stopped ski racing.”

“Fair. What was the second?”

“I needed to keep my grades up.”

“And did you?”

Shyly, I smiled. “I am two subjects short of my degree in physiotherapy from Sydney University.”

“Ah, so intelligent as well as beautiful.”

“Hardly. But I felt the need to help others, and physical therapy is a way I can do it. I volunteer with the Disabled Wintersports team when I am at home and know how much I can help others. That is my dream.”

“No wonder everyone loves you.”

“Jeff does not love me,” I said firmly. “Only I have no idea why.”

“Oh, I can answer that. Jeff hates you as his wife Tash was also a curvy blonde ski racer. Like you, she was strong, powerful, and gorgeous. She was also Australian. He was besotted with her, and they were the golden couple of the sport. He gave up his career for her when he was at the top of his game, followed her to Australia because she wanted to move home, then within a year she left him for another guy. When she was pregnant with his child. But as his permanent residency visa wasn’t finalized, and she removed her support for him, the Australian government deported him, and his child was raised by another man. So he lost everything. His wife and his son, and hates anything or anyone Australian as a result. When he returned to the States, he was emotionally shattered and never got back into the race circuit. Moped around until they gave him a coaching job and he has been here ever since.”

“That poor man,” I gasped, my hand flying to my chest. “I had no idea.”

“Likely he sees in you everything he lost. Your looks, your style. That you are Australian, and that is obvious every time you open your mouth, he will never give you a fair chance.”

“Now I feel terrible. I wonder if I can talk to him? Help in some way?”

Owen stared at me. “How is this your fault?”

“Some people never get over trauma,” I admitted. “He lost his child. But it explains why he hates me with such a passion.”

“You are an amazing woman,” Owen said, astonished. “Most people would say ‘that is his problem, and he needs to get over it. It was years ago, and it wasn’t me.’ You are so kind and considerate.”

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