1
Jaz
Grit pressed into Jaz Keasley’s fingers as she worked more of her hand into the groove of the granite cliff she hung from. The cool breeze kissed her face, considerately clearing her forehead of the few loose wisps of hair that had managed to escape her high ponytail. Jaz drew a deep breath before pressing her hips toward the stone as her left foot skimmed the surface in search of a foothold. This part of the climb was the trickiest. After too many attempts and a near tumble, the rubber edge of her climbing shoe finally caught a small edge of rock—but that was all she needed. With a powerful shove of her muscles, Jaz hauled herself up and over.
“Show-off,” Sebastian called from the ledge below as he took up the slack in the belay line.
Jaz put an anchor into the stone and clipped her rope through it, then added an extra one to make things easier for Sebastian. Even though her climbing partner had more strength and several inches on her in height and reach, Jaz was the better climber—and Almagre Run was all technique.
At twenty-five Jaz led the US women’s division in competitive rock climbing and had no piece of gear that wasn’t provided by a sponsor. Now she was training for Clash of the Titans, an exhibition event that would, in all likelihood, define the next stage of her career—if she had one. Her chest constricted at the thought, the anxiety not unlike that of a division one football star balancing on that precipice between an NFL draft and end of play.
“I’m coming down to do it again,” Jaz called and rechalked her hands from the pouch hanging off her harness.
“You’re a masochist.”
She snorted and made her way back, landing softly beside Sebastian. “You want to try? Just keep your hips close to the rock and watch out for the lighter-color holds. They aren’t nearly as stable as they look.”
“Easy for the Vector Ascent poster girl to say.” Sebastian stretched his back and looked wearily up the mountain. They’d been at it for over six hours, and tracks of dirt and sweat marked his too-pretty face. With his glittering green eyes, athletic build, and just enough freckles, Sebastian was attractive enough to have several modeling agencies vying for his attention.
Too bad he didn’t play for her team.
If he had, Jaz could imagine setting up an arrangement with him. They had enough trust between them to literally put their lives into each other’s hands every training day, and Sebastian’s lean, lithe muscles would certainly make for a delightful time.
Oh, well—perhaps it was for the best after all. Sebastian went through men like kids went through Easter candy.
“You spend too much time doing this,” Sebastian said, interrupting Jaz’s thoughts.
“Doing what?”
He started tying in with a retraced figure-eight knot. “Hauling your ass all over various mountain ranges.”
“So do you,” she shot back.
“True, but I also spend time doing activities that don’t require life-saving equipment to be attached to my person. Condoms notwithstanding.”
That was the thing about Sebastian. He said what he thought, and he referred to sex as casually as he referred to eating, walking, or chewing gum. He also knew when to keep his mouth shut, which made him privy to a great deal more of Jaz’s life than anyone else in Denton Valley.
She wiggled her brows. “Are you offering?”
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “I mean it, Jaz. You’ve made your life about the upcoming Clash of the Titans, and it’s not healthy. Being consumed with winning is fine short-term—but you do it to the exclusion of all else for months on end. There’s always another event you’re training for in the wings. You never let yourself enjoy any of the other facets of life available to you. What about recreational time? What about having fun?”
Jaz waved her hand at the Colorado mountain range stretching before them. “This is fun.”
“Sure,” he conceded. “But it’s not naked fun. Nothing beats naked fun.”
“You’re nuts.”
“No. I like nuts. Of all varieties, shapes, and sizes.”
“Good for you.” Jaz played with the nylon edge of one of her neon-orange ropes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been out on a good date. Or even a decent one. But things were complicated just now. “What are you really getting at, Bastian?”
“What I’m saying…” He gave her an individual nudge for each of those three specific words. “Is that you have no extracurricular social life apart from a few girlfriends and myself. And that, my dear Jaz, is not the healthiest approach to having a rich and fulfilled existence.”
“You know what else isn’t healthy for a fulfilled existence? Defaulting on my student loans, losing my apartment, and telling my financial genius brother and A-list acting parents that I’m broke—which is exactly what’s going to happen if I fall flat in the Clash of the Titans and Vector Ascent drops me like Arc’teryx did.” Aside from Jaz’s attorney, Sebastian was the only one who knew the full extent of her situation, so she felt no need to mince words. “Less talk, more climbing.”
“Fine, but leave Friday next week free. I see I need to take your boy situation into my own hands.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m serious. I’ve been making a list, actually. We’ll start with Devante—he showed up at one of our climbing happy hours that She Who Must Train All the Time missed and started drooling when I mentioned I know Vector Ascent’s poster girl.”
“And what else do you know about Devante?”
“His measurements.”
Jaz rolled her eyes.
“Let’s not confuse bedroom gymnastics with matrimony. Different qualifications.”
“Whatever.” Waving her hand at him, Jaz checked her harness and stepped back up to the stone. “On belay.”
After finishing up for the day, Jaz and Sebastian hiked back to the car, their cell phones waking with insistent beeps the instant they crossed into a reception zone.
“Let me guess. You’ve missed a call from a modeling agency, the evening’s date, and…” Jaz squinted in mock thought. “And a message from another date that you forgot about. You double-booked.”
Sebastian grinned. “I never double-book—at least not by accident.” He took out his phone and scrolled through the messages. “No dice today. Just a reminder from my dentist’s office. My turn. I bet you have messages from—”
A credit card billing office, an upset landlord, and a line of credit declination, Jaz thought.
“A lawn-care salesman, Steven Spielberg, and—”
“Kyan.”
“Spielberg is more likely.”
“No, I mean Kyan really did call. And text.” Jaz flashed the phone screen to Sebastian as proof. Kyan, Jaz’s older brother, was notoriously bad about reaching out to her. In fact, the last time she remembered him calling and texting was to announce his son’s healthy birth—and that was probably his wife, Ivy, using the phone. This time, the message was significantly more ominous.
My place. Now. Mom and Dad are here.
A thousand scenarios rushed through her at once, each shredding her soul with shards of terror. Her finger hovered over the Call button, but for the first time in her life, Jaz couldn’t bring herself to press it. But then the phone rang again, Kyan’s name flashing on the screen.