Slippery Slopes (Winterhaven Series - Vol. 1)

PART ONE: Chapter 1

PART ONE:  "ON THIN ICE"

.   .   .

Nolan took a deep breath and released it on a controlled exhale then walked across the lodge dining room. He tugged out his order pad and pen as he approached the table of young men, early twenties most of them. Nolan was careful to avoid eye contact, especially with Lane Cassiter. A couple of the guys were new faces, but Lane was an annual regular at the Winterhaven ski lodge that Nolan had mixed feelings about seeing each year. Mixed in that the guy was fucking hot and gave Nolan a raging hard-on every time he laid eyes on him –but emotionally turned off by the man's ego and blatant bigotry.

"What can I get you?" Nolan asked, knowing what was coming. Lane and his group never failed to flick him shit over his delicate appearance. Nolan didn't try to hide his homosexuality and had no qualms about wearing eyeliner, an earring, and clothes that hugged his slim body rather tightly.

"Well, well," Lane snorted and leaned back in his chair, eyes lazy. "If it isn't the local queer boy. Did you miss us?"

Nolan met his stare unwavering. Had they not been filled with such disdain, Lane's aqua eyes would have been quite beautiful, accentuated by the natural copper highlights in his light brown hair. "What's not to miss?" Nolan replied dryly. "Are you ready to order?"

Leaning forward and resting his arms on the table, Lane smiled coolly. "Yeah, I'd like someone not so queer to take my order and bring me my food." He had a strong athletic build—not too lean or too bulky—and his perfectly rounded biceps strained the long sleeves of his gray shirt with the tiny skier emblem over his left pec muscle.

Nolan shrugged. "Sorry," he said. "We're all out of not-so-queer waiters. Would you like something else?"

"Hey, Nolan!"

Nolan glanced around to see a nicely built, blond young man about Nolan's age approaching from the entrance of the dining room, a smile on his face. "I hear you're racing tomorrow." He squeezed Nolan's arm and winked. "Good luck, babe. I'll be rooting for you."

"Thanks, Drew," Nolan smiled as the guy moved on past.

"Racing?" Lane's interest was suddenly piqued. "Tomorrow? The big race—down Avalanche Alley?"

Nolan looked at him and nodded. "Yeah."

"Fuck," Lane laughed and the others joined in. "You don't seriously expect to place, do you?"

Scratching his temple with the end of his pen, Nolan said, "I expect to win."

"Win..." Another burst of laughter made its rounds through the small group. "You're fucking kidding, right? You do realize you'll be racing against me?"

"Yeah, so?" Nolan returned, unfazed. "Is that supposed to intimidate me?"

"You'll be lucky if you survive the run."