Nowhere Like This by Jillian Liota

Author:Jillian Liota
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blue Paper Press

CHAPTER 5

OTTO

The girl is a ringer, I’ll tell you what.

We go down the mountain once, and she keeps falling on her ass every 10 or 15 seconds.

“It’s the board,” she keeps telling me. “I’ve never had a board this slick before.”

Of course it’s the board, I say in my head. That’s what everyone says.

But on our second run, I see a new Quinn. Her turns are tighter, her stretches longer, her stance adjusted to give her better balance.

And holy shit can she blaze down the mountain.

I’m not a professional surfer like Lucas, a guy who can literally stand on any board and totally light shit on fire—skateboard, wakeboard, surfboard, snowboard, doesn’t matter—but I’ve been boarding in some capacity for most of my life, so having Quinn beat my ass to the bottom of the mountain, on run after run…

Part of me wants to say my ego is bruised, but the other part of me thinks it’s hot as hell. I’ve never chased a woman down the mountain before, and I gotta say, I like it.

“How about this,” she says as we take the lift up for what we’ve agreed is the last run of the day. “Bomb to the bottom. Last run. Loser takes the winner to dinner.”

She says it with a smile on her face, her cheeks pink from a mixture of exertion and a light burn from the sun reflecting on the snow, and I have this urge to just…lean forward and kiss her, right here, up in the sky when nobody else is around.

Our little secret.

“You’ve got a deal,” I tell her, my eyes falling to her lips for a long second.

When I look back up, I can tell she saw it, my gaze at her beautiful mouth.

Fuck.

The lift rumbles slightly, a signal that we’re getting close to the top, so I adjust my position, preparing to glide off once we have snow beneath our feet. We exit the lift without a problem, coming to a stop together and quickly clicking into our boards, each of us shifting our hips to build momentum to move toward the edge of the hill.

“Otto,” Quinn says as we come to a stop inches from each other.

I just look at her.

And she looks at me.

Then she smiles. “I want a big, fat, bloody steak for dinner.”

Before I can even register what she’s said, she’s off, sliding away from me and picking up speed.

Damn. That girl.

I launch after her, avoiding any bumps that would make me need to carve, trying to gather as much speed as I can to catch her. We charge past people, a few people shouting at us to “Slow down!” but the sounds are lost behind me. At one point, the main ski slope curves to the side, and I ignore it, launching myself through a patch of trees in an attempt to gain some ground, bursting out the other side and nearly colliding with another boarder.

Even if Quinn and I had taken off at the same time,

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