Page 78 of The Aster Valley Collection, Vol. 2

The following day was bright and clear, with almost no wind and plenty of sun. After a hearty breakfast, we headed to the base of the mountain to hop on the lift. I’d brought a backpack with my laptop in it with hopes I’d get a little work done on a contract my dad wanted me to look over.

When we skied off the lift mid-mountain, we headed over to the sprawling wood-sided building that housed the restaurant and ski patrol office. Parker recognized one of the guys wearing a red ski patrol parka out front by the ski stands and went over to greet him with a big hug.

“Jules, come meet Dallas,” he said with a big smile and beckoning wave. “He’s the one I did that commercial with in Sun Valley, remember?”

I popped out of my skis and leaned them against the stand before reaching out to shake his hand. “Hi, yeah, it’s great to meet you. Parker has told me so much about you. Said you blew him away on the moguls that day.”

The guy was as tall and muscular as I remembered from the commercial, with sun-streaked hair and a friendly smile.

When he pulled down his sunglasses, I could see the same little laugh lines formed by the sun that Parker had from spending so much time on the slopes.

“He’s a flatterer. What the heck are you doing here, Parker?

I thought I heard you were getting married this week. ”

I knew from Parker that the Colorado professional skiing world was a small community where everyone knew everyone, but it still surprised me sometimes. They were notorious gossipers.

“I was,” he said with a self-deprecating shrug. “But it didn’t work out. Julian brought me to Aster Valley instead. I didn’t know you worked here. How do you like it?”

“It’s killer. Love it. I found a great deal on a rental over on Sunrise Trail. You wouldn’t believe the views. Best part? I can ski to work.” He glanced over at me and seemed to put some pieces together. “Wait. Wait. Are you the Julian? Parker’s Julian?”

It wasn’t the first time someone had called me “Parker’s Julian,” but it struck me very differently, coming from this guy. Before I could answer, Parker threw his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close, almost knocking us both over in our clunky ski boots.

“Yeah, this is Jules. He’s cute, right? And smart as hell. He’s a lawyer. He’s also?—”

“Ha!” I burst in, trying to stop him before he said something else that might embarrass me or, worse, embarrass him. “I sound like a prime steer at auction.”

It was enough that he’d just had to tell his friend about calling off his wedding. I didn’t want to be the rebound relationship he’d have to try to explain next time he and Dallas met up. I wanted to protect Parker from everything that could hurt him, including himself.

The mischievous look on Parker’s face warned me a split second too late that I’d left myself wide open. “That would make you a nice, juicy piece of?—”

I clapped a glove over his face and turned a cheerful grin at Dallas. “How long have you been in Aster Valley? You must know our friends Tiller and Mikey. Oh, and Sam and Truman, too.”

He laughed. “Yeah, they’re great. Mikey and Sam had their hands full through the holidays, but Tiller’s been here since the end of football season.

Just in time for the skiing to ramp up. Can’t wait to see what it’s like next year when the lifts are open to the public and the runs are full of even more skiers. ”

We chatted for a few more minutes before the radio clipped to Dallas’s jacket squawked. “Duty calls. Let me know if you guys need anything, and have fun today. Great to finally meet you, Julian.”

After he took off down the slope, we headed inside to find the skier Parker would be helping.

We removed our gloves and unzipped our jackets, then headed to the enormous corner booth by the window, where Tiller and Mikey had asked us to meet them.

But as we crossed the large, open restaurant, I realized that the third man at their table looked very familiar.

“Wait, that is the fitness app guy?” Parker grumbled under his breath as we approached. “Really? Tiller didn’t mention I’d be helping the dude from the bar and the… the Grindr .”

“What’s the problem?” I asked. As far as I could tell, Rocco had been nice both times he’d interacted with Parker.

“The problem is, the dude wanted to get in your pants, Jules,” he hissed. “Twice.”

I felt my chest expand with warmth and maybe a tiny bit of smug possessiveness… which was why I didn’t immediately notice when Parker’s cool, dry hand wrapped around my own and he threaded our fingers together like holding hands was a thing we did.

Unfortunately, I was the only one who didn’t immediately notice. Three heads turned as we approached the table, and three pairs of eyes zeroed in on our clasped palms.

I blushed and yanked my hand away almost guiltily, but judging by their reactions, it had been way too late to pretend the hand-holding had been anything but what it was.

Tiller looked surprised but thoughtful. Mikey looked surprised and concerned.

And Rocco didn’t look surprised at all. His lips twitched up in a knowing little smirk that might have been sexy if I weren’t still drunk off the scent of my best friend.

“You must be Parker.” Rocco stretched out a hand to shake. “Seems kind of unbelievable that we’ve never been formally introduced, doesn’t it? I’m Rocco Valentine.”

“I remember,” Parker grumbled, shaking the man’s hand half-heartedly. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “Still sounds like a porn star name.”

I was pretty sure Rocco heard him, but if anything, his smile only deepened.

“You’re one to talk, Shortbread ,” I whispered.

“Can it, Peanut,” he shot back.

“Rocco, this is Parker Ellis,” Tiller cut in smoothly. “World Cup champion, former Olympian, and all-around downhill badass.” He recited Parker’s accomplishments like he thought that might make us behave ourselves. “And this is Rockley Lodge’s beloved attorney…”

“Julian Thick,” Rocco finished, aiming a broad smile at me. “Parker’s man.”

“ Best man.” I laughed nervously. “You mean best man . ”

“Ah, obviously. My mistake.”

Parker scowled at me, but I quickly pushed him onto one side of the booth beside Tiller, while I sat on the other end, beside Rocco.

“So, Peanut and Shortbread.” Rocco raised an eyebrow. “I feel like there’s a story there.”

“Oh, not a good one,” I assured him. “Unless you enjoy stories about ten-year-olds left unsupervised with an entire case of Girl Scout cookies my sister was supposed to sell door-to-door.” Hazel still brought that up from time to time.

Rocco laughed quietly. “Actually, that’s better than how one of my brothers got his nickname.” He winked. “There may have been a citation for public indecency involved.”

Maybe I was nervous from the WTF looks Mikey kept leaning around Rocco to give me, or feeling antsy because Rocco was being flirtatious, or just giddy because every time I saw Parker’s grumpy glare I remembered being inside him, but either way, I started laughing at Rocco’s comment and couldn’t stop.

Between snorts, I tried explaining myself until I could barely catch my breath.

Rocco asked, “Is he okay?”

As Parker watched me giggle uncontrollably, his face softened, and then he began laughing, too. “He’s fine. He’s remembering the time I was literally arrested for public indecency.”

“Time?” I squeaked. “Try time s . With an ess .”

When I finally calmed down, I had to tell at least part of the story. “He was at a ski thing, and he… and he…” The laughter came back harder than ever. Thankfully, Tiller was able to continue the story.

“So Parker was on the pro tour—which, let me just point out, we’re talking about his third arrest for indecent exposure—and he needed to take a piss before his next run.”

Parker cut in. “To be fair, skiers always pee off to the side somewhere instead of trying to fight our way to the portables or figure out where the athlete bathrooms are. Takes too long.”

Tiller flapped his hand to shut him up. “I’m telling it.

Anyway, so he wanders over past the crowd to where there’s one of those arc-cut flaps in the crowd-control fencing.

It’s like a printed fabric with sponsor stuff on it.

It has cuts in it to let the wind through.

So he whips himself out and pees through the flap. ”

Parker cut in again. “I knew the drill. Don’t let the crowd see your goods. Hence, sticking it through the fabric so no one could see.”

I snorted and nearly choked. Thankfully, Tiller continued the story.

“What he didn’t know was that the other side of the fence was the place one of the sports channels had set up their on-air correspondent, out of the way of the crowds.

The correspondent was reporting live when a shriveled-up micro peen appeared?—”

“Hey! I think you mean a mighty claymore that made all who looked upon it tremble in fear .”

I howled, only this time I wasn’t alone. Mikey was giggling, Rocco was laughing, and two of the servers had stopped to listen.

“Tell them, Julian!” Parker demanded, his eyes dancing. “Tell them about the Claymore.”

Ah, shit.

“Yes,” Mikey said, lifting one eyebrow. “Please tell us exactly what you know, Jules. And how .”

Damn it. Why was Parker so determined to be reckless? Why couldn’t he at least admit the possibility that this, us , was a temporary madness we didn’t need to share with our friends? Hadn’t he realized how awkward it would make things once Erin came back around?

I kept my smile firmly in place. “Parker, there are very few limits to our friendship, but referring to your penis as the Claymore is one of them.”

Tiller snickered.

“I will say, though, that two lube companies offered you a sponsorship after that.” I studied my nails fake casually. “And that adult film company wouldn’t stop harassing you until ‘your lawyer’ wrote to them. So make of that what you will, Claymore .”