Chapter One
Brett
Whoever thinks it is good to be me is an asshole.
Once upon a time, in a former life, I thought I wanted to be famous. I thought I wanted to be adored and respected. I fought for gold and won and then I reaped the benefits of being someone people thought mattered. But at the end of the day, it didn’t feel as good as I hoped.
People hate me more than they love me. They call me cocky and detestable. I was voted least liked celebrity athlete. When I do interviews the main questions are about my short stint on a romance reality show. It was a gag to have a good time with some of my friends and meet some women. We had some fun,but I never expected to find a true love connection.
And the truth is, I am not good with women. Not that good with people at all. My small circle of friends say I come across as rude. Standoffish. I say I just don’t know how to talk to people one-one-one, so I don’t. I can put on a show whenit'scalled for. Turn off the cameras or take away my skis and I do not know how to act.
Because cameras followed me for years, I was viewed as a spoiled, arrogant brat. After winning my first gold medal, the world was my oyster and I sucked it down. I partied, lived a jet-set lifestyle, and let the bright lights catch me doing it. Didn’t take long to realize it was not life for me.
Growing up all I cared about was being on the powder. Bombing down a mountain side or leaping off a jump and tricking in the air. It was the one thing I was good at, and I was damn good at it. I loved being out there on the snow and the excitement of hurtling off the mountain to hit the air and soar for a few moments.
When my parents passed away when I was young, I wound up with my grandfather. He was a good man who taught me everything I know, but he was about as good with people as a grizzly bear. I guess that is where I get it. He also taught me about loving the freedom of being on a pair of skis.
We lived in the mountains of Driftwood, Georgia, where he owned a small ski lodge that catered to the locals and tourists. Working there was the best time of my life, and I grew to love being on the mountain. I went pro when I was barely a teen because I knew it was all I would ever be good at.
“Where is your head at, Brett?” a voice breaks into my thoughts and I blink, taking note of where I am and why I am here.
“Lost in thought. Sorry,” I shake myself as I apologize.
“No, I understand you do not want to be here. It’s good for them to see you at these things so people see you as a....” Luke trails off when I cut in.
“As a spoiled and cocky man whore? I got it,” I grumble, glancing out over the crowd sucking down the champagne and lobster pastries I paid for.
Luke will write all this excess off in the name of charity. I am hosting a holiday fundraiser here in Driftwood where it all started for me. Most of these folks considered me a bum most of my life because of where I came from and what I could andcould notafford. Now they clamor to hang out at these parties to be seen with me.
Money means nothing to me. At least it doesn’t now that I have plenty of it. Moneycanmake you happier—whoever says it can’t is a liar. It can pay your bills, put you in a nice house, get you a nice car, and take care of your family. It can make the things you worried about go away.
Money also brings out the worst in people.
“Well, half of them think that,” Luke says with a chuckle.
“Which half?” I snort, glancing down from the balcony at the crowd.
I know which half thinks I am cocky and which half thinks I am a man whore. Most the men in this town hate me since half the women in town want me. I am not bragging when I say that—it’s a fact I am not all that proud of. Good thing I stopped caring what people thought of me a long time ago.
When I feel the air in the room change, I can admit that is not true. There is one person whose opinion of me bothers me. Even with a room full of beautiful and classy socialites, I spot her like a diamond in the rough. I think she outshines every woman in the room.
Brielle North is the most beautiful sight I have ever laid eyes on. When I first saw her four months ago when I first got back home, I was awe-struck. It was my first time back at the lodge since I left Driftwood after grandfather passed. I couldn’t bear to close the place, so my best friend Luke has been taking care of it. There she was, stumbling on her skis and laughing with a group of girls who looked as if they belonged on a runway, not a ski slope.
They were all beautiful, sure, some of Driftwood’s elite. It was Brielle I could not get enough of. Her wavy auburn hair spilled down her back as she stomped around in her skis. Creamy porcelain skin without a hint of makeup glowed in the sunshine and her bright blue eyes were full of warmth and a touch of mischief. She was trouble with a capital T, I could tell.
Those friends of hers may have been laughing at her but it didn’t faze her. With a beaming smile, she marched out to the lift and climbed on in her cute snow suit. I waited at the bottom of the hill for her, finding myself worried about her safety. Sure enough, she came racing down the hill and slammed right into me. I was glad to be the one to break her fall.
“Appreciate you being there, Ace,”she had chortled as she sat astride me, both of us covered in snow.
Feeling her soft body in that puffy suit pressed against me felt too good.Too right.I tried to hold her even longer as I asked her name and if she wanted me to show her how to ski. I wanted nothing more than to spend the day on the mountain with her. When she pushed away, darkness churning in her light eyes, I sensed I had asked for too much.
“No thanks, Ace,”she huffed as she sat straddling me. “Don’t need any help making a fool of myself.”
Before I could turn on the charm I was famous for, she was gone. It was refreshing she had no idea who I was. But she was going to find out. A little flirting with her friendswho didknow of me got me her name. For the first time, I used my so-called connections to find out about her.
Brielle comes from old money. Stupid big money. People claim she was a spoiled brat who blows money, makes a scene anywhere she goes, and won’t be tamed. Most would write her off as just a spoiled princess.
And yeah, she blows money. Gives it away like her opinions. Only she gives it fortherightreasons—and to the right people. Her and her besties, Quinn VonMuth and Lennon Baldwin are true philanthropists. They protest and march and even work at shelters. Life before they came to Driftwood was parties and paparazzi. They left that life behind a long time ago.