Page 15 of Wedlocked

Beside me, Lars stiffened. “What?”

“Yeah, bro. You’re from Sweden. Isn’t that like the ski capital of the world?” Kruger asked.

“Pretty sure that’s Aspen.” Arsen corrected him.

“Did you ski a lot in Sweden, Lars?” Wes asked. “It is a popular sport there, right?”

“Ja.” Lars agreed in Swedish. After clearing his throat, he said, “It is popular there. And I did ski.”

Rush made a sound. “You said it’s your favorite sport besides swimming.”

I felt my eyebrows rise, and I spun to my boyfriend. “It is? I didn’t know that.”

Lars avoided my eyes.

Rush made a rude sound. “Because I talk to him. You just kiss him.”

Coach made a sound. “You all are slower than a snail on a salted, snowed-in street. If you wanted to talk, you should have done it at breakfast, not while we’re all roasting inside with all this gear on.”

“Sorry, Coach,” Lars said. “We should go.”

“I told you to call me Emmett this week.” His voice was gruff. “Now let’s go.”

Everyone filed out the door and toward the cars.

“We’ll meet at the ski lodge,” Arsen called, opening the passenger door of his G-class for Prism as Jess and Kruger got in the back.

“I can fit eight,” Coach called, unlocking the black Tahoe he’d rented.

Ryan, Rory, Jamie, and Madison went over to get in with Rush, Landry, and Bodhi.

Max palmed the keys to Wes’s Jeep, and Lars, Wes, and I headed in his direction.

In the back seat, I slid toward Lars until our legs were pressed against each other. “How come you never told me skiing was your favorite behind swimming?”

“You never asked.”

“I never asked if you thought I wasn’t an idiot either, but you volunteer that info all the time.”

Up front, Wes snickered.

I shot him a dirty look, then turned back to Lars. “So you skied a lot in Sweden?”

He shrugged. “It snows a lot there. It was something to do.”

“Rush seemed to think you liked it more than just something to do.” I pressed.

“Rush talks a lot,” he mumbled.

I glanced up, catching Max’s eyes in the rearview. It was a brief exchange but enough for me to know he also thought Lars was being weird.

I frowned. “If you don’t want to go skiing today, angel, I’m more than happy to go do something else.”

Lars’s pale eyes shot to me, a current of alarm accompanying their usual electricity.

I didn’t like it. At all. Beneath my beanie, my brows furrowed. “A?—”

“I want to go skiing,” Lars said. “I know you’ve been looking forward to going. And it will be my first time on American slopes.”