Buried Alive Read online

  What the fuck?

  “Thanks, man.” Shaun tipped the guy, sending him back for the door.

  “Hey.” My mouth opened before I could stop it. “Do you know that girl? The one who served me yesterday?”

  “You mean Hannah?” The guy flapped his hair away from his face, his pupils streaked red. Stoned. “The smoking hot brunette?”

  “Yeah.” I felt my eye twitch. “Is she on shift tonight?” Fucking stalker here.

  “Yeah.” He nodded, his hair flopping back to the exact same spot. “She was supposed to deliver to this room, but talked me into taking it for her. Thought it meant you guys tipped like shit.” He looked down at the money in his hand. “Her loss.” He shrugged and made his way to the door. “Thanks, man.”

  Shaun shut the door behind him, peering at me curiously. I ignored him, running over what the server had said. She was supposed return and didn’t? I scowled as my hand rubbed the back of my neck, irritation spiking up it.

  What the hell was wrong with me? I didn’t even know her. Why did I care if she was my server? But I couldn’t deny the frustration at her not stepping through my door. It felt as though it was a personal knock to my ego. She should be dying to come back. Be intrigued and eager to see me.

  I was Rhys Axton, champion snowboarder and soon-to-be Olympic hopeful. Most girls would be trying to get into my room and my pants any way they could.

  “Don’t expect this treatment much longer. My job as coach doesn’t mean I play your bitch.” Shaun came over and placed a tray of food on my lap.

  “But you’re so good at being a bitch.” I smirked.

  “Careful.” One eyebrow curled up, and he tilted the plate slightly, as if he were going to drop it in my lap.

  I grinned. Pissing off Shaun was what got me up in the morning. When I was younger and trained back in Colorado, my mother would stay with me sometimes, but most of the time my parents would be with Jonah, leaving me in Shaun’s care. We never had a normal family life. Always split up, training in different areas. Most Olympic hopefuls spent more time away from their families than with them. When my mom died and my dad had pretty much become a hermit, Shaun fully stepped up. Parent. Friend. Coach.

  As my mouth wrapped around the juicy burger, my taste buds screamed with happiness. This was seriously one of the best burgers I had ever had. As the void in my stomach filled, my brain wandered back to Hannah.

  She didn’t want to come back here so badly she had someone else take my room.

  Just my room.

  Her actions intrigued me more, drew me to the mystery of this girl. Why did she do that? Why had she acted so strange the night before, practically running out of here? Even Carrie thought something had gone on between us. I had slept with a lot of women, but I was sure I would have remembered those eyes. That face. She was not the type of girl you forgot.

  The strange anger I felt earlier about her rose again, more at myself than anything. She bothered me. A lot. Never one to have to go after girls, a female who wanted nothing to do with me was a foreign idea.

  I reached over for the hotel phone, my temper acting before logic.

  “Hello?” A woman answered. “Front desk.”

  “Can I talk to Oscar?” I asked, running a hand through my hair. Shaun swiveled on the couch to face me, his eyebrows pinching again. “This is Rhys in six-o-six.”

  “Please wait a minute, Mr. Axton.”

  Seconds later Oscar’s voice boomed over the phone.

  “Rhys, what can I do for you?”

  “I was thinking since I’m going to be on bed rest for a few days I could get someone exclusively on my room.” I stared up at the ceiling, trying to avoid the sensation of Shaun’s eyes burning into me. “I don’t want to take any of the main servers or anything…” I can’t believe I’m fuckin’ doing this. “Maybe the girl, Hannah, who served me the first night?”

  “Hannah?” Oscar’s voice filled with puzzlement, as though he had no idea who I was talking about.

  “Yeah, dark hair, blue eyes?” Did I remember her name wrong?

  “Oh!” He laughed. “Right. Hannah. She would have been my choice, too. Great girl. I will let her know. She’ll start tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Anything else I can help you with to make your stay better? I beefed up security for your floor so no press or crazy fans can sneak through. We should have a private cabin for you in a day or two.”

  “I appreciate it.” I scrubbed at the scruff along my jaw and hung up the phone.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Shaun lids had narrowed, confusion wrinkling his forehead, as if he could see this was more than me asking for a personal waitress.

  I lifted my chin, my gaze meeting his.

  “I have no fucking idea.”

  Chapter Seven

  Hannah

  Fire raged inside. Boiling, hot, searing rage. When Oscar called me in asking for a favor, I thought it might be helping organize the holiday party or singing carols for the guests.

  Not this.

  Oscar was already hard to say no to, but my father joined him, asking me to do this favor. My years of absence had festered into guilt so visceral it hung on me like a Christmas ornament.

  Now I was rolling a cart up to the sixth floor at nine a.m., about to face the one person I was trying like hell to avoid. If only my mind would do the same.

  Heat coated my cheeks as images formed in my head of his shirtless physique and his tight boxer briefs revealing everything. At twenty-one, nothing remained of a boy’s body; he was all man. Tall, dark hair, black smoldering eyes, broad shoulders, and tattoos running down his muscular arms and across his chest.

  Stop it. I ground my teeth. You do not think of him that way.

  Gulping down my nerves, I brushed at my ponytail, my fist tapped against the door. “Room service.”

  Did I even need to say that? Did I walk right in? I was his personal gofer for the foreseeable future, entering and exiting his room whenever he demanded.

  Fate must really be having a good laugh about now. Bastard.

  “Come in.” His deep voice penetrated the door. The desire to flee overtook me. You can do this. You are strong. You are a survivor.

  Turning to back through the door, I pulled the cart with me. “Breakfast, Mr. Axton.” I was determined to keep this professional and have as little personal interaction as possible. I kept my back to him as I busied myself uncovering the dishes, the steam billowing off the eggs Benedict.

  Silence scaled the back of my legs to my head, the base of my neck prickling. I could feel his gaze stinging my skin. My teeth sank into the bottom of my lip as I twisted my head around.

  Hell.

  He lay on his bed, wearing his boxers and nothing else, one leg wrapped and on top of a stack of pillows, the same chest that haunted my thoughts out on display. His dark gaze set on me.

  I heard many tales of the staff being propositioned by customers from their bed. But the vibe I felt from him was almost annoyance, his gaze roaming over me, his eyes narrowed.

  I cleared my throat, a strange tension thickening the air in the room.

  “Do you want me to set it at the table or bring it to you?” My voice wobbled slightly as I motioned to the dining table by the balcony. This was one of the special one-room suites, but still bigger than my entire San Diego apartment. It consisted of an open bedroom, living room, and a dining area, plus a balcony filling up an entire side of the building overlooking the mountains. The walls were primarily wood, but this was softened by white bedding, a crystal chandelier, and lush rugs.

  Oscar was definitely trying to keep him happy.

  He continued to watch me. His dark eyes were unnerving, as if they were trying to pry open my soul. Expose me.

  “Mr. Axton?” I shifted my weight, gripping the cart handle.

  “Have we slept together?” His voice was so smooth and unemotional it took me a moment to understand.

  Shock parted my mout
h. “Wha-what?”

  “Have. We. Fucked?”

  My lids blinked, my chest feeling as though it was about to cave in. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m always serious,” he replied huskily.

  Anger I had set aside earlier flamed up, my temper breaking through. “You. Are. A. Pig.” I shoved the cart out of my way, stalking for the door.

  “Stop,” he called out, but his order went unheeded, my feet moving quickly. “Hannah, wait.”

  Something in his voice, the way my name curled around his tongue, stopped my hand on the door. Twisting my head, I glared at him over my shoulder.

  “Sorry. Something you’ll learn with me is I can be pretty direct.” A grin tugged up the side of his mouth. “So…I’ll take that as a no.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “I didn’t think so. I would have remembered you.”

  “Should I be grateful? Count my lucky stars?” I let go of the knob, facing him. “That the man-whore, Axton, would be able to recall the face of someone he slept with?”

  His lips parted into a full bad-boy smile. My traitorous stomach knotted into a ball.

  “I would have definitely remembered you.”

  I had a temper but it had been tucked away for years, vanishing under the pain. Of course Boy Wonder here would draw it to the surface in seconds.

  “I think it’s best I get someone else to tend to you from now on.” I went for the door again, prying it open. “Goodbye, Mr. Axton.”

  “No.”

  “No?” I whipped around, eyes narrowing.

  “No.” He shifted himself higher against the headboard, his abs flexing as he moved.

  “I think it would be better if I didn’t serve you.” Please, I can’t be around you anymore. My feet itched with the urge to run.

  “Well, I don’t.” He shrugged. So cocky. “I asked for you.”

  “What?” My mouth dropped, fury firing through my veins. “You asked for me? Why?”

  The smirk abandoned his face, his black irises digging into me, upping my heartbeat. “I have no idea,” he said low and gruff. “But I will figure it out.”

  Furious didn’t even cover how I felt. I needed air. Space.

  Bolting around the Christmas tree, I shoved through the front doors into the chilly morning air, my lungs clenching at the frost-laden air. I waved my arms as though to flap out the frustration.

  “Asshole!” I walked farther out, kicking the snow. “How dare he? That little shit!” My hands squeezed into fists. Somewhere inside my brain I laughed at the small reference. He was anything but small. Anywhere. He didn’t have a typical snowboarder frame, making him even more unique and sought after, especially by women and magazines. Rhys Axton had grown from a cute, mischievous kid to a fuckin’ hot asshole.

  I remember him making a name in youth snowboarding championships when I was a teen. He started snowboarding almost before he could walk, following in his brother’s footsteps. By nine he was winning competitions, carving a path to the Junior Olympics. Being almost four years older, I didn’t pay much attention to the younger snowboarders. But even then, he was hard not to notice.

  Mist puffed from my mouth as I growled my rage. Like he can tell me what to do. My temper curled up the back of my throat. Screw this; I could pack my car in ten minutes and be out of here. Away from all the memories, guilt, and life I ran away from. It was dumb to come back. Why did I think this was a good idea?

  I stared off toward the parking lot where my car sat under a foot of snow. It was tempting to run. To get far away from Rhys and everything that came with it.

  “Girl,” a familiar voice called from behind me. I spun around to find Siena, her long wavy brown hair floating behind her, dressed in her waitress uniform, winter coat, and knee-high snow boots. “I’ve been looking for you. I texted you a dozen times.”

  “Sorry. It’s been kind of crazy.” I shot a glare up to the sixth floor.

  “Yeah, I heard about you getting to be Mr. Big Dick’s personal server.”

  A laugh burst out from my mouth. “What?”

  “Mr. Big Dick.” She arched an eyebrow. “Haven’t you heard the rumors about him?”

  “No.”

  “Girl, we need to talk over another round of drinks. There’s even a hashtag dedicated to him. ‘Riding Rhys.’ And it’s got nothing to do with snowboarding.”

  Acid burned up my throat, and I shook my head. “That’s revolting.”

  “Please! As if you would turn down a ride on him. I know I wouldn’t. From what I’ve heard and read, it’s fucking amazing.” She fanned herself. “Actually, I’ve been trying to get up in his room since he walked through the door. So really, I should hate you.” She brushed her hair back, her eyes going wide. “You will have to tell me how it is. Oh my god, I want every detail. Live vicariously through you getting to bang Colorado. Because if you don’t, I will.”

  “Have at it.” I folded my arms. “I deliver his meals. That’s it.”

  “Sure.” She nudged me. “Being in close quarters with him all the time? I can make a bet you will be fucking him by Christmas.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks, then it rushed down between my thighs at the thought of him. But as fast as my body reacted one way, it flipped, and a rancid sensation filled my stomach. No. You do not think of him that way. It’s disgusting. Wrong.

  Itching to get out of my skin, away from thoughts that fluttered close to Rhys, I took a few steps toward my house. “I’ve got to go. See you later.”

  “You on shift tonight?”

  “I’m on shift all the time it seems.” I rubbed at my arms now covered in goosebumps, my jacket still in my locker back in the restaurant.

  She grinned, winking at me before trouncing for the front doors.

  I turned to head for my house.

  “Oh, and Bren?”

  I peered over my shoulder.

  “I’m holding you to that bet.” She disappeared through the entrance before I could respond.

  When I stepped into the house, my mom sat at the kitchen table going over paperwork. “You’re home.” I grabbed a chair, which squealed over the wood floor as I pulled it out and sat down.

  “I’m going in a little later. Tonight is the start of the horse sledding outings and Christmas parties. We have three in the banquet rooms tonight.”

  “‘Tis the season,” I groaned, reclining in my chair and thinking back on the endless holiday parties my mother had to organize. One night there were seven she had to bounce around to. I had trailed after her, wanting to be Mommy’s helper, which lasted for about an hour. She found me later curled under the Christmas tree, sound asleep.

  I glanced around the kitchen and into the living room, void of any holiday decoration. Nothing about it seemed different since the day I walked out of the door. Pictures, furniture, even the kitchen towels were the same. Set in a time bubble, it should have held memories, laughter, love, except I felt no life. Stagnation begun the day Bryan no longer returned, and when I walked out the front door.

  “How long are you planning to stay with us? When do classes start again?” She continued to work, not looking at me.

  “Uh. Well. That’s actually what I was going to talk to you and Dad about.” I shifted in my seat.

  “What?”

  Just rip the Band-Aid. “I’m not going back to school. Or San Diego.”

  Mom’s head popped up, the same eyes as my brother, staring back at me with horror. School had always been especially important to my parents, especially college. Bryan had received some pressure, but I almost had no choice, as though they didn’t believe I could also make a living at what I loved.

  “Excuse me?” She sat back, a chill filling the air.

  “I’m not going back, not until I figure some stuff out. I’m wasting Grandma’s money.”

  “No.” My mom popped out of her chair. “No. That’s why we sent you down there in the first place. To figure things out. Your father and I had already allowed you to push college off a couple
years.”

  I stood, my mouth parting. “Sent me? I went down there to get healthy. Mentally and physically. You know I couldn’t have stayed here. And moving down there wasn’t some vacation for me.”

  “It’s been nine years.” She went to the sink, rotating to look at me, as if she needed to put distance between us.

  “Are…are you saying I should be over it by now?” I exclaimed, my arms opening, signaling to the pictures on the wall. “Are you over it, Mother?”

  She hissed in a breath. “Don’t you dare.”

  “What?” I challenged. “Don’t accuse me of something when you live in a bubble of time also.”

  Mom’s eyes burned, her jaw rolling with pent-up anger. I could feel she wanted to say more, to scream at me, but she took a long breath. “School is important. You’re going back.”

  “No. I’m not.” I gritted my teeth. “I know you still think of me as fifteen, but I am an adult. I make my own decisions. I’ve worked hard and saved money. Also, Grandma left me some.”

  In her last will, she had left what was left of her deteriorating funds to me. She had cut my mother out. They had never really gotten along, but seeing their lack of parenting for me firsthand put a bigger strain on their relationship.

  “You didn’t even bother going to her funeral…” A broken whisper shuffled off my tongue.

  Mom’s shoulders rose fast, and she blinked hard as she gazed out the window.

  “It was a busy time here. We couldn’t leave during Thanksgiving and Halloween.” Being in the States so long, I forget Canadian Thanksgiving fell before Halloween.

  “Bullshit.” Pain stabbed at my heart, thinking about my grandma. “Your mother died. I had no one else down there to help me with the funeral. And you still found every excuse not to make it.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “Good, because I won’t.”

  Neither of us was able to fully look at the other. Tension claimed the silence.

  Finally, my mother’s stern voice broke it. “What do you plan to do then? Stay here and work as a waitress?”