Free Carry Your Heart by Audrey Bell Page A

pleasantly. “Dead serious, Pippin.”
    When I glance over, he’s looking right at me, green eyes blazing with warmth. I look back down flushing. “About the other night, I—I wasn’t trying to spy on you.”
    He nods, gives me a little shrug. I can’t get a read on his feelings. Maybe he’s just indifferent. “Right on. Well, good luck, Phillippo.”
    “Pippa.”
    “Whatever you say.”
    “I really don’t like that nickname,” I say.
    He shrugs. He smiles. “You could stop talking to me and then you’d never have to hear it.”
    I smile. “Pretty sure you came over here and started talking to me.”
    “You looked like you needed someone to talk to,” He grins. “You want me to leave you alone?”
    I don’t want that at all.
    “Maybe you just want a new nickname.”
    “Pippa works.”
    “I don’t like Pippa. What about Philly? Can I call you that?”
    “You can call me Pippa.”
    “Philly has a nice ring to it. Plus you get your own city and your own sandwich if you go with Philly. And a whole baseball team,” he cocks his head. “Probably some other shit too.”
    He pushes himself off the railing and picks up his snowboard and backs away, keeping his eyes on me and a playful smile on his lips. “I’ll pray for Laurel to fall.”
    “You don’t have to do that.”
    “Sounds like I might…if you want to medal. I don’t talk to God for anyone, but you know, I have a soft spot for lost causes,” he says, backing up cockily, turning away to swagger off towards the lift.
    I watch his bright blue fleece disappear. The best athletes don’t bother with waterproof jackets, particularly when it’s this warm out. You really only need them if you fall. And Hunter’s fleece is definitely not waterproof so he definitely doesn’t plan on falling.
    I turn my attention back to the race. I stay in second place until Penelope goes. She takes second and I move to third.
    Fuck, I mutter. Hunter was right. I probably will need divine intervention to finish third.
    Hunter’s presence lingers in my mind. How quietly he flirts. How hot-and-cold he can be. How angry he sounded on the phone, how sexy his laugh is, the way he smelled. How badly I wanted his elbow to stay next to mine, touching. I have a soft spot for lost causes.
    I know that this is wrong. Joe insisted he was bad news, and I acted like there was no chance I was ready to move on. But I can’t help but think that there might be a chance. Because he makes me forget. Just for a few seconds, but I’ve never been with him for more than a few seconds.
    I’m so wrapped up in Hunter that I don’t notice Laurel’s start. My attention jerks back to her in full. I blink and she crashes out through a gate and wipes out.
    “ Shit ,” I say, more shocked than happy that she fucked up. She gets to her feet, kicks off her skis, and tosses her poles angrily and my phone vibrates in my hand.
    It’s Mike.
    You should probably get back here for medals.
    I duck back to the hill quickly, wondering if there’s any chance the last two competitors are strong enough to knock me out of third place. But, by the time I reach the hill, the race is over and I’m still in third.
    I won a medal. Holy shit, I won a medal.
    The three of us—Lottie, Penelope, and me—step up onto the podium, beaming. I look out at the handful of people who have stayed behind to watch. I smile so hard I almost start to tear up.
    Mike wraps me in a big bear hug when we meet back in the parking lot that separates the mountain from the lodge.
    “I am so, so proud of you,” he says. He smiles at me, as I stand, bronze medal around my neck, fingering the yellow ribbon.
    “So, what did you think?” he asks cautiously. “Do you want to think about it? Try another race in a few weeks? I mean, there’s a little bit of time before you have to decide for this season, but…”
    “I’m in,” I say quickly. I start to laugh. “I’m definitely in.”
    He gives me a high-five. “Had me