Slippery Slopes (Winterhaven Series - Vol. 1)

Chapter 35

The blood drained from Todd's face, turning him ashen, the instant he spotted Rodney and Tonya. Lane leaned over and whispered, "Just play it cool."

"Oh yippee," Jude muttered dryly. "The hotdog is here."

The others laughed. Todd didn't. Lane's mouth twitched with a smile. He watched Rodney warily. The guy no doubt meant to out Todd on his "activities", humiliate him, and if possible—drag Lane into it as well.

"Hey, fellow comrades." Rodney sauntered up to the table with Tonya, the four others lingering behind them. "What's new?" His lazy stare went straight to Todd.

"People are trying to eat," Lane said stiffly. "Why don't you take your nasty-ass stench elsewhere."

Rodney smiled, his eyes cool. "Nasty-ass stench?" he looked at Tonya and they both smirked. "If anyone stinks of nasty ass, it's Todd."

Todd started to retaliate and Lane grabbed his arm, halting him. "The only stink here, is yours," Lane said and the rest of his group nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, why don't you goose-step on out of here," Jude told him. "You're making my eggs rancid."

Darren snorted. "Mine, too."

"If you were smart, pretty boy..." Rodney looked at Darren. "You would keep your mouth shut and stay out of the spotlight."

Darren stared back, uncertainty in his eyes. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Lane frowned and glanced at Darren; what did he mean by that?

With a small shrug, Rodney smiled. "I'm sure you'll figure it out if you think about it..." his eyes narrowed with cool glee. "...long and hard." Tonya and those with Rodney snickered.

The obvious sexual innuendo threw Lane for a moment. Why was Rodney attacking Darren?

Darren visibly shrank into his chair, a rigid frown on his face. "Go fuck yourself, Rodney."

"What the hell do you want, Castle?" Lane interjected. His stomach knotted up as he waited for either Tonya or Rodney to start blurting out shit about Todd.

Todd's jaw was clenched so hard his facial muscles popped and flexed as he stared down at the table.

"Well, the consensus around the lodge is that people aren't as upset about the race being cancelled, as they are about not getting to see who would win your little bet."

Lane shrugged. "Whatever. No race, no bet. Guess they'll just have to deal with it."

"Maybe," Rodney eyed him, the corner of his mouth tugging up.

"What're you talking about?"

"Maybe you could have a different competition. Something indoors."

After everything they'd gone through, Lane just wanted to forget about the stupid wager. "No," he muttered. "The race was the bet."

Rodney chuckled and glanced around at his buddies. "Told you he'd pussy out. This storm was the best thing to happen to him. He's too chicken shit to go up against the little queer."

"I'm not fucking chicken shit," Lane snapped, hackles raised. "The bet was on who was the better skier. If the weather clears, I guess we'll find out." Lane really didn't care anymore.

Rodney snorted. "This shit isn't going to clear and you know it. Convenient for you."

"Fuck off."