Flame (Fire on the Mountain #2) (25 page)

“Absolutely, Mr. Levi. Just let me know when you’re ready to be seated,” she purrs up at me. Poor thing, she’s batting those fake eyelashes so hard I’m not sure how they’re hanging on.

Thankfully, the wait isn’t long. I only have time to finish half of my Shiner before I hear the fake, annoying voice of Mercedes behind me, talking to the hostess like she’s a piece of chewed up gum on the bottom of her shoe. “What do you mean I need to wait a minute for you to get the table ready? We had reservations five minutes ago.”

Good Lord, I hate this woman.

Pushing back from the bar, I stand and grab my frosty mug then turn to face my soon-to-be ex-agent-slash-manager. “Over here, Mercedes!” I call out to her with a wave. “Let me pay the tab, and then we can grab our table. You don’t need to be a bitch to the poor girl. I’m the one who told her I’d wait for the table until we were both here, and
you’re
the one who’s running late.”

Her jaw drops open as her eyes dart around the room, wondering who all heard me tell her off. I’m on her home turf, so I guess she’s worried about possibly seeing someone she knows.

“Did you just call me a bitch?” she seethes as her red stilettos eat up the distance between us in a matter of seconds. “In public, no less?”

Chuckling, I take another drink of my beer as I wait for the bartender to bring me back my credit card. “I’m pretty sure that’s the word I used. Next time, I can use ‘stupid cunt’ if you’d prefer that.” So much for my plan of acting polite and professional until after dinner.

“What is your problem? Why in the hell are you acting like this?” She grabs my arm and studies my face, baffled over my behavior. “Are you drunk? On drugs?”

“No, this,” I lift the glass in the air, “is the first alcoholic beverage I’ve had in over a month actually. I’ve been working my ass off, eating right, and spending as much time in the gym as I am at the cliffs, to get ready for Munich. Tonight, though, I have a reason to celebrate.”

Her faces relaxes and her angry grip on my arms turns into a sensual caress, wrongly assuming that my getting to see her is worthy of celebration. It’s funny how quickly she’s forgotten about me disrespecting her moments ago, and is already ready to forgive me and jump into bed. Chick seriously has no self-respect whatsoever.

“Yeah, you never told me why you were coming out to Austin when you set up this date,” she purrs. “Is it just to see me?”

“It is.” I glance over at the girl who is standing off to the side, holding menus, waiting to take us to our table, then move in her direction. “Come on. Let’s sit down and I’ll explain.”

Once we’re settled in a booth toward the back of the restaurant, at my specific request, a server appears to get our drink order and then leaves us alone. I’d originally planned to tell her everything after we ate. I mean, the least I could do when firing the poor girl is buy her one last nice meal, but as I stare at her across the table, I decide I just can’t do it. I can’t sit here with her one more minute than I have to.

“Mercedes,” I lean forward, clasping my hands together on top of the wooden surface, “I flew out to Austin today to meet with you, because I need to discuss some changes that are going to be taking place.”

The color drains from her face as her eyes narrow suspiciously, but I don’t allow anything to deter me from getting out what I came to say. “Tomorrow morning, Jag will receive a certified letter that details the termination of all services I have with The Donovan Group. The change will take place effective immediately, and as per the contract between myself and your family’s company, you will have ten business days to transfer my files to my new manager, Emilia Griffin.”

“Gunner’s wife?” She leaps from her seat, hands flying wildly through the air as she screeches, “Are you fucking kidding me? What in the hell does she know about marketing or legal contracts?!”

People around the dining room turn to stare at us as her voice reaches making-a-scene level, but she’s nowhere near done. “If you do this, it will be career suicide, you fucking idiot! No one in this business will ever touch you again. And why?! Ever since you were with that stupid blonde bitch this summer, you’ve been such a fucking pussy!”

Rising to my feet, I glower down at her, chest puffed and jaw clenched. “Leave,” I growl, my voice deep and dark. “Leave right fucking now. I came here, because I wanted to do the mature, adult thing and deliver the news in person, out of respect for your brother and your family’s company.” I curl my hands into fists at my sides and I pound them on the tabletop, hard enough to make the silverware rattle and the waters slosh over the tops of the glasses. “But if you ever fucking talk about her again, I will ruin you. You think I haven’t been paying attention the last several years? You think I don’t know that you get deals done by sucking executive cock and spreading your legs to whoever signs the dotted line? I’d rather not have a single fucking sponsor from this point forward than to know part of the reason they’re backing me is because my agent is screwing them for their signature.”

“Fuck you, Levi,” she snarls as she grabs her purse. “You have no idea who you’re messing with, pretty boy.”

As she stomps away, the server approaches the table with the drinks we’d ordered, looking at me and waiting for instructions on what to do next. Dropping back down on the seat, I take the white cloth napkin and drape it across my lap. I didn’t come all this way for nothing.

“You can dump her drink out in the back, but I’ll take your twenty-four ounce ribeye, medium rare, a baked potato, all the way, a house salad with Ranch dressing, and another beer,” I announce with my chin held high and a confident smile on my face.

Now that the final item on my cleanup checklist is complete, I’ve got seven weeks to prepare for the two biggest challenges of my life: defeating Lance Foss at the World Championships, and proving to Dakota Shavell that she’s the only girl for me.

The gold and the girl.

Mine.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 13

“UGHHH!! I CAN’T WATCH!” I
draw my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms tightly around my shins, hiding my face behind my knobby knees. “I’m too nervous.”

“You better watch! I didn’t drive over an hour and a half to come hold your hand while you cover your eyes!” Rory exclaims as he bumps my shoulder with his, causing me to lose my balance and topple over sideways onto the arm of the couch in my living room.

Laughing, I push myself back up to sitting normally and stick my tongue out at him. “You’re a terrible BFF,” I tease. “Emilia would be much more comforting and concerned about my emotional state.
And
she would’ve brought wine with her! How can I wallow in my misery without wine?”

“Dude, I brought a twelve-pack of beer!” he contends, leaning forward to grab the bottle of Amstel Light off the glass coffee table and raising it up in the air. “I thought I was doing good buying this low-calorie shit. You need to learn now—if you want a guy to do something, you have to specifically spell it out for us. I gave up trying to read the female mind a long fucking time ago.”

“You’re such an idiot, Rors.
You
need to learn now to never tell a chick you bought something diet for them, unless they specifically ask for it. Otherwise, it makes it seem like you’re implying they need to lose weight. Luckily for you, I know you didn’t mean it like that, but for future reference, steer clear of mentioning calories and fat intake too.” I roll my eyes, but the silly smile on my face remains. “It’s a good thing I love ya, or you wouldn’t have any cool friends at all.”

Over the past few months, Rory and I have become closer than we ever were while we were hooking up. Our friendship now involves regular texts and lunches every other Saturday. Today’s lunch just happens to include watching the FMX World Championships while we eat pizza at my place.

Most people who know about our history don’t understand our relationship, how we went from being each other’s booty call to good friends with no lingering awkwardness or sexual tension. Hell, I don’t understand it either, but I don’t spend a whole lot of time analyzing the whys and hows of something that works for the two of us and makes us happy. These days, I’ll take all the happy I can get, because I spend most of my days walking around in a dismal fog.

“Look! There!” Rory shouts, pointing at the TV with one hand as he snatches up the remote and pauses the live feed from Germany with the other. “There he is! Black shirt, off to the left. Is that Emilia and Gunner with him?”

My eyes snap to the flat screen, my heart hammering violently in my chest as I get the first look at Levi since we said goodbye at the airport over three months ago.
Oh, my sweet Hulk.

Standing next to his bike as he waits for his grouping’s turn, he is indeed talking to Emilia and Gunner, who’ve been honeymooning in Europe for the past two weeks, as well as Rhino and a guy who looks like Lance Foss from the back. Levi’s helmet is off, so I’ve got a good look at the overgrown mop on his head that’s pulled back into a little ponytail at the back of his neck, as well as the full, dark beard covering his chin and jaw. He looks more rough and rugged than I remember, and unless it’s the camera adding ten pounds to him, he’s bigger and brawnier as well. A deep groove etched in his furrowed brow along with the tight-lipped grimace on his face makes me think it’s most definitely Foss he’s talking to. It appears not much has changed between the two of them.

“He’s like a mountain man, Kota. I never would’ve pegged you for a Jedidiah Smith girl.” Rory shakes his head in disbelief, looking back and forth between me and the frozen image of Levi. “How did he not crush you?”

Once the initial shock wears off, I stand up and walk over to the image, pointing out who everyone is, then add, “And who the fuck is Jedidiah Smith?”

Snickering, he presses the play button and the TV comes back to life, the monitor switching from the shot of Levi to whatever rider is about to go. “You must not have paid much attention in State History class, did you? He was like
the
mountain man back in the nineteenth century, exploring the mountains of the western part of the U.S., willing to trek where no others dared to go.”

I stare at him blankly, wondering where he keeps all of this completely useless knowledge. The guy is like a walking Trivial Pursuit game. “Yeah . . . no. I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention in any class back in high school. I was much more concerned about my cheer practice schedule and what plans I had for the upcoming weekend.”

Now it’s his turn to playfully roll his eyes. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot about Hipster Barbie’s all-important social life. Silly me to think kids go to school to actually learn shit.”

“I told you about that stupid name,” I object, punching his arm. “The next time you use it, I’m telling Nali how you really feel about her.”

Gasping when I mention my sister’s name, he pins me with a menacing glare. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t try me, Dimple Boy,” I warn, unable to keep a straight face when I say it.

I knew on July Fourth, when Rory and I talked at my parent’s party, that Nali was the girl he was referring to about having feelings for. But I didn’t bring it up then, mostly because I was too busy starring in my own pity party over my goodbye with Levi. Since then, we’ve discussed her several times, and despite my support and urging for him to pursue her, he refuses to take the plunge and tell her how he feels. They hang out as friends, much like he and I do, and sometimes we even all go out together with Hudson, Crew, and Juno too. Other than Emilia and Gunner, they’re the only friends I really do anything with outside of classes and work.

Anyway, Rory claims it’s too creepy to hop sisters’ beds—which nine out of ten times, I’d agree with him—but this situation is different. At least, in my head it is. He and I only shared a physical connection, a means to an end. Never once when we were together did either of us feel that electric spark, that irresistible, undeniable magnetic pull that can be felt with every fiber of your being. The same one I’ve only experienced with Levi.

“Oh look, they’re showing Levi with his helmet on. I think he’s about to go,” he announces, tipping his head toward the screen. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”