Snowblind: A Friends to Lovers Gay Romance: Westcoast Collection

Chapter One | James

It was either going to be the death of him or it was going to breathe exhilaration into his bones. Either way, it was going to be epic. James dismounted the Cliff Chair and headed for the double-black diamond run that had been calling his name since before he crawled out of bed.

Snow had a way of doing that—summoning him. Since James had been old enough to walk, every winter without fail, he'd had a pair of skis strapped to his feet. His family was big into mountain sports. Skiing, snowboarding, and bombing around on snow machines in the winter. Mountain biking and hiking during the seasons when there was no snow. This weekend was on the cusp of the conflicting seasons. Early spring. Blankets of snow—and bright sunshine.

Perfection.

James lowered his goggles from his helmet onto his eyes. The world around him turned orange. The sun was bright; the snow sparkling. Without goggles, you ran the risk of becoming snowblind. He clipped his back foot onto his snowboard and glided toward the cliff edge.

There weren't a lot of people hitting this run today. Normally, his two brothers would be right there beside him, but James had decided to take this trip alone. Even though he had been living on his own for years, James' family habitually joined him for most of his competitions and free weekends. James was a professional snowboarder; away competing for much of the winter and spring. His family would usually share a chalet with him if they tagged along.

Not this weekend, though. This weekend was for himself. Some time on his own. Rest and relaxation away from the marital expectations and religious rhetoric his family was forever placing upon him. He needed time to think. Snowboard, think, and get his mind back in the game.

James tightened the straps on his gloves and edged toward the slope, shuffling forward across the snow. He tried to clear his mind; it had been in turmoil all week. After three years of slogging through a relationship, his fiancé, Julie, had finally called it quits. Words like absent and distant hurled at him across the room had brought their time together to an end.

She had walked out on him.

One year ago, it seemed like the right thing to do: ask Julie to marry him. He met her in college, and they had hit it off. But it soon became evident, in James' mind, that they made better friends than life partners. If only he had been brave enough to share that with her.

He had allowed himself to be controlled, swept along with his family's expectations. There had been pressure from home about it being time to settle down and start a family; both things James wanted to do—just not with Julie. The truth was, he had been absent from their relationship. Going through the motions, day after day, imagining what it would be like to be in love with the person you were about to marry. It had beat him down, the lying, and the apathy he felt.

Julie had finally had enough.

He had broken her heart. Something he was not proud of. He had deliberately pulled away until Julie took the hint. He had taken the coward’s way out.

Now it plagued him; whether he would ever find true love after the mess he had made of Julie’s life. Everyone in church likely knew he caused the breakup. That he had treated her unfairly. Women would not be lining up to take their chance with him. But then, maybe he didn’t deserve to form an intimate, loving connection with someone. It seemed unattainable.

Falling in love—it was a dream.

One that needed to be filed away.

James exhaled as he examined the steep drop of the Parachute Bowl. He needed to focus on the intimate connection between his board and the snow. This was a love he knew well. His love for the sport was the only love he felt comfortable with. He leaped off the crest and sped down the bowl, the swooshing and crunching of the snow beneath his board making his heart sing.

He was at home here. Among the snow-laden trees. A path laid out before him, cutting back and forth, riding the immense expanse of snow as he made his way down the mountain. The cool air streamed in through his nose. His heart hammered in his chest; his arms outstretched.

He was soaring.

James angled his board, concentrating on keeping his footing. He could handle this. He could handle anything the mountain threw at him. Shivers ran up his spine, his breath quickening.

This was pure freedom. On the runs, alone. Away from the crowds of competitions. Competing brought him a different kind of high. His events were Freestyle: Halfpipe and Big Air. Performing tricks, achieving incredible heights, and pursuing a Wow Factor to impress the judges. Racing down a mountainside, testing his skills on different terrains, and completing a run intact; pleasure radiated to his very soul. But this, times like today ... this was special.

He reached the bottom and coasted down the Woodpecker to the lift. The line was long for the Blackforest Express, but he needed to give his legs a rest on an easier run. He would hit a blue run next. Another three or four runs would be all he could fit in before the mountain opened for night skiing. He had no interest in the runs on offer at night. Sure, the lit pathways were fun, but there was no challenge in the decline and there were far too many people for his liking.

He shuffled along, obediently, working his way to the front of the line. To the top then down another run. And another. The rest of the afternoon streaked by.

Standing in line for his last run of the day, James was surprised when someone slid into him, nearly knocking him off his feet, a spray of wet snow fanning up into his face. He cleared the snow from his cheeks, looking around to see who the asshole was.

What the hell?

Sorry ... wasn't paying attention.

James peered at the face beaming at him; intense baby blue eyes, crazy long lashes, brown, curly hair erupting from beneath a florescent green helmet. He knew that face well. He had been competing against Corey Taylor since he started his professional snowboarding career at age thirteen. They had never spent much time getting to know each other.

Much meaning little to none. They were competitors after all.

He was convinced Corey had slid into him on purpose. Trying to annoy him. James wasn't going to play that game. He was going to remain civil. He looked over his shoulder. The lineup behind them was grumbling about Corey cutting in. Just right. This was Corey's home mountain.  He should know better than to tick off potential fans and admirers.

He turned his attention back to Corey. There was a serious rivalry happening between them. Truly. They were fierce competitors. But it was going to be difficult to stay mad at Corey.

The playful glint in the guy's eyes was infectious.

Chapter Two | Corey

What were the chances? James freakin' Cartwright. Corey shook his head in disbelief as James approached the lineup for the Blackfoot Express lift. This wasn't James' home mountain. James was from Vancouver Island. A product of Mount Washington. And whereas Corey tended to visit Calgary for off-season training, James headed to Quebec. James had family there. The chances of them running into each other on their off times was remote, but a couple of times during the day, Corey had thought he spotted James. Now it was confirmed.

His crush, James, was snowboarding his home mountain in Kelowna—Big White.

Corey slammed into James, his heart rabbiting away in his chest. He was expecting a scowl to be shot at him when James saw who it was. The look he received from James was decidedly pleasant. It warmed him through—James' gentle brown eyes watching him; his full lips poised before he spoke. Corey wasn't sure what, if anything, they might have to say to each other. Their few interactions over the years had always been light-hearted—friendly. But had been limited to Nice run, Epic bail, Congratulations and the like.

This free-time, chance meeting scenario was unknown territory.

Not that it would lead to anything. It was the story of his life ... falling for the wrong guys. Either they were emotionally unavailable, straight, or not interested in settling down. James fit neatly into the second category. James' girlfriend was a common fixture at competitions. She and James' family. Plus, there were rumors they were right-wing, ultra-Christian types. Not exactly gay-friendly. Still, that didn't stop Corey from crushing on James. His toned body, shaggy blond hair, and a smile that could light up a thousand galaxies spoke to his heart.

Corey was going to press on ... and talk to James now that he had got his attention.

What are you doing all the way out here in the interior? Corey asked.

I needed a break. James smiled. And I love the snow here.

It's a gorgeous day to be out in it.

Sure is.

You on your last run?

James nodded and adjusted the goggles on his helmet.

Mind if I join you? Corey asked.

Ah ... James appeared to hesitate, then tipped his head to one side. Sure.

Corey released an exhalation of relief, then sucked in a breath of uncertainty. His toes were tingling at the prospect of hanging with James. Even if it was only for one run. Even if he didn't have a chance with him. It would be the most time he had ever spent near the guy. By all accounts, James was amenable. Friendly, outgoing—and one hell of a great snowboarder.

He wanted to know more.

If nothing else than to torture himself.

The lineup advanced toward the lift. They slid along in silence. It wasn't until they were hoisted onto a lift chair that James spoke.

How many runs have you done today? he asked.

Five or six. Legs are turning a bit rubbery. Corey glanced at James. There was that smile of his ... and in response to something Corey had said. His gut clenched, fluttering. This will be my last run as well. I don't go in for the night skiing.

Yeah ... me either.

Corey leaned forward in the chair, watching the people below on the green run. He pointed at something and laughed. Do you see that kid? Can't be more than four years old.

James peered down at the snow below them. That was me as a kid. Every weekend with the family. As soon as I could walk, my parents put a pair of skis on me. Hauled me around on the flat snow at the end of their poles. By the time I was three, I was killing the beginner run. James grinned. Mastered the snowplow anyway.

No wonder you're so good.

James inhaled a deep breath. I love being out here. He turned to face Corey. What about you? When did you start cutting up the slopes?

I was a bit older. My parents enrolled me in an after-school snowboarding program when I was in grade three. Took to it right away. I was spotted by a sponsor when I was fourteen. Things got pretty serious after that. My parents are perfectionists. I had to be the best.

We've certainly battled it out more than a few times.

Corey chuckled. You've presented me with a challenge, that's for sure.

Yeah ... hey, congratulations on the Half Pipe win in the Freestyle Nationals by the way.

Thanks. Corey nodded. Congrats on the Big Air win. He leaned back in the ski lift chair, his shoulder packed in against James', their thighs touching despite the fact they were in a four-person chair. Corey had made a point of sitting close. The sensation was electric. To keep his body from responding, he concentrated on the weather. It was changing. The sun had disappeared, replaced by a white sky. It was about to start snowing.

Looks like snow, James said as he shifted in his seat. The chair swayed in response. Corey gripped the safety bar. Their proximity was making James uncomfortable.

And fog if it doesn't. Corey laughed. They don't call it Big White for nothing.

True. James looked around, seemingly at the scenery. You headed to the Winter Games next week?

Wouldn't miss it ... you?

I might give it a miss this year.

You not interested in the Olympics team picking you up?

James exhaled. I'd love that, but I don't know that I'm good enough.

Pfft. Corey shoved James in the shoulder. Of course, you are.

James smiled. Thanks. He looked down at his gloves, adjusting them as they approached the top of the lift. They both shifted forward on the chair in preparation for dismounting.

When they finally reached the top,