by Tawna Fenske
Snowbound Squeeze
A Ponderosa Resort novella
Tawna Fenske
Contents
About Snowbound Squeeze
Also in the Ponderosa Resort Romantic Comedy Series
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
11. Your exclusive sneak peek at Show Time
12. Your exclusive peek at MANCANDY CRUSH
Don’t Miss Out!
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Tawna Fenske
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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Text copyright © 2020 Tawna Fenske
All rights reserved.
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No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
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www.tawnafenske.com
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Cover design by Craig Zagurski
Created with Vellum
About Snowbound Squeeze
A special Ponderosa Resort novella!
Gable Judson needs a hideout. A safe place to escape the shambles of his Hollywood life. When college pal James Bracelyn offers a secret cabin an hour from Ponderosa Resort, Gable’s got the car pointed toward Oregon faster than paparazzi pouncing on a nip slip.
Gretchen Laslo needs a retreat. Not just to work on her PhD dissertation, but to flee the messy breakup that left her inner critic shouting “duh, girl.” Meeting sexy, mysterious Gabe the night before she leaves is just another reminder to stay focused on her brain, because her heart’s kind of a dumbass.
When a Bracelyn family mix-up collides with the worst storm to hit Central Oregon in years, Gretchen and Gable end up accidental roommates. Roommates without internet or TV or—God forbid—an ice cream maker. With both hiding secrets they’d rather not reveal, whatever will they do to pass the long winter nights?
Also in the Ponderosa Resort Romantic Comedy Series
Studmuffin Santa
Chef Sugarlips
Sergeant Sexypants
Hottie Lumberjack
Stiff Suit
Mancandy Crush (novella)
Captain Dreamboat
Snowbound Squeeze
Dr. Hot Stuff (coming soon!)
Chapter 1
Gable
I don’t know if I’ve ever been this tired. Bone deep, balls dragging the floor exhausted.
As I sag against my buddy’s front door, he drops the key into my palm. I curl my fist around the metal lifeline and hold tight.
“Stay as long as you need to.” James’s voice is pitched low, and I hate the pity in his eyes.
Pity and whatever it’s called when a dude has three sparkly red lipstick marks on his face.
“Thank you.” I force the words past the tightness in my throat and try not to stare at the kiss print just above his jaw. Did Lily miss his mouth on purpose? “And—uh—no one else knows about this? Me being in Oregon.”
James braces an arm against the cedar-planked wall of his cabin’s foyer. He has questions, and I’m grateful he’s not asking them. Grateful we’re doing this here. That he’s not luring me in for wine and friendly catch-up.
I’m not feeling friendly. Just tired. Tired and really fucking raw.
Also confused about the lipstick. Seriously, does he not know it’s there?
“Lily knows,” James says, and it takes me a second to remember what we’re talking about. “I told her you were headed this way. She’s been worried since we saw everything on the news.”
“I’m fine.” I don’t know if I’m trying to convince him or me.
“The rest of resort management doesn’t know you’re here,” he assures me. “And they definitely don’t know about that.”
He nods at the key, and I clutch it tighter. “Thanks.”
I’ve met most of James’s siblings and love the crap out of them, but right now, I need discretion. “Privacy’s sort of key at the moment.”
“You’ll have that in spades at the cabin,” he says. “To be honest, I think everyone forgot it exists. We inherited it together, but it’s so far in the middle of nowhere that no one ever uses it.”
Perfect.
James rubs a hand over his chin, narrowly missing a smear of lipstick. I debate mentioning it but decide not to. I won’t be here long, and there’s no sense embarrassing him. I’m sure he’s eager to get back to whatever produced the lip prints in the first place.
A gust of wind hurls ice chips at the door behind me, and I glance out the window to my left. Trees sway in the darkness, their needles flickering with moonlight.
“The snow’s not supposed to hit until tomorrow night,” James says. “You should be fine.”
“I will be.”
I’m not sure we’re talking about snow.
He studies my face for a moment. “I wasn’t sure you were still coming.”
“It took me a while to get out of town. LA traffic, you know?”
He nods, making the lipstick on his left temple flash in the light from the sconce beside the door. “Right. Still, I was worried.”
James isn’t the only one. It’s my agent who finally persuaded me to get out of town. “Perhaps you should find someplace to lay low,” he suggested on the phone last week. “Just stay out of the public eye until things quiet down.”
My brother, Dean, was more direct. “Get the fuck out of Hollywood,” he growled. “Hide out until we tell you to come back. Or fuck it, don’t come back. God knows I’d love to get out of here.”
So that’s what I’m doing. Getting lost, at least for a little while.
The key feels warm in my palm, its metal ridges biting into the fleshy undersides of my fingers. I should get going.
“Thanks again,” I say, taking a step back. “I’ll get out of your—”
“Gable!” James’s fiancée swoops in wearing a silky red kimono belted at the waist. Lily pulls me into a soft, fragrant hug, reminding me again that my college pal is one lucky son of a bitch. “We weren’t sure you’d make it. How’s your family?”
“Great.” I channel as much enthusiasm as possible into that syllable, adding a smile for good measure. “Lana and Lauren say hi. They keep asking when you’re coming back to visit.”
“We’re hoping they’ll come see us this time.” She smiles and glances at James. I see her register the lipstick on his face the same instant he pushes off the wall and launches into full-on CEO mode.
“I really think you’d be better off staying here.” He’s pacing like a courtroom lawyer, which he was once upon a time. “We’ve got a full-time security team at Ponderosa Resort.”
Lily nods, choosing to ignore the lipstick in favor of ganging up on me. “He’s right. The resort’s full for Valentine’s weekend, so we’d have lots of eyes and ears watching out for you.”
This sounds as appealing as smashing my testicles in the cutlery drawer. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m really looking for some alone time.”
The two exchange a look I can’t read. That’s possibly because the red smear beside James’s mouth makes his polished façade look vaguely clownlike.
Lily lifts a hand to wipe it at the same moment James turns and sweeps a hand toward their living room. “We have a guest suite that’s ver
y private,” he insists. “You could have meals brought in and would never have to interact with anyone.”
Dropping her hand, Lily gives an infinitesimal shrug and regards me with a bemused smile. “We’re very discreet.”
The kindness in her eyes is almost enough to change my mind.
Almost. “This cabin will be perfect.” I shove the key in my pocket before they can snatch it back. “No phones, no internet, no television.”
No calls from my agent, no hate mail, no televised reminders of my great fuckup.
James sighs and yanks at his tie. Tries to anyway, but there isn’t one. Whatever they were doing when I got here jettisoned his ever-present neckwear.
Lily sticks her hands in the pockets of her kimono and regards me with concern. “We sent someone out to the cabin to get it ready for you,” she says. “It’s clean, but it’s really rustic. You know how to chop firewood and all that?”
“I’ve got some dynamite left over from that last action flick,” I deadpan. “Figure I can use it to fell a couple trees.”
Lily laughs, then whips a tissue out of her pocket and raises it in triumph. She edges toward James, poised to swipe.
And misses, because now he’s pacing again. “Look, we’re just worried about you.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, smearing the lip print at his right temple. “Maybe if you talk to someone about—”
“I’m fine,” I insist, more urgently this time. “Really, I promise. I just need to go somewhere no one recognizes me and no one’s reminding me of what happened.”
There’s that look again, that silent exchange between two people who know each other well enough to have a full conversation with no words. I’d envy them if I weren’t a jaded asshole intent on being alone.
Lily looks back at me and sighs. “At least promise you’ll be careful. And that you’ll go into town at least once to call and let us know you’re okay.”
“Promise.” I put a hand on my heart the way James and I used to do when reciting the school pledge, and my heart twists at the memory. How did life get so messed up?
“Fine,” James says. “Can we at least feed you dinner?”
“Not hungry.” My stomach chooses that moment to rumble like a gravel crusher.
Lily arches one eyebrow. “Really?”
I reach behind me for the doorknob, determined to flee before they tie me to a dining room chair and force coq au vin down my throat. I wrench the door open, walking backwards in case they try to tackle me. “Fine, I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since I left LA. I promise I’ll eat on the way. I just want to get—”
“Whoa! Heads up, big guy.”
The female voice registers half a second before I crash into the female body. The very soft, very warm female body.
I whirl around, stumbling as I turn to face—
“Holy shit.” The words slip out before I consider this is not the way to greet a total stranger.
But this stranger is the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. Hair the color of warm caramel is piled on her head in a swoopy, loopy bun. Eyes like blue sea glass spark with light from the porch, and there’s a dusting of cinnamon freckles on her nose. She’s wearing—clothes, I think. I can’t look away from her face to check out the rest of her.
She laughs and flips a stray lock of hair off her face. “Okay, not the greeting I’m used to, but hello.” Her smile is warm, and there’s not a trace of makeup on her face. “Gretchen.” She extends her hand to me. “Sorry to startle you. I just came over to borrow dill.”
“Dill.” I pat my pockets absurdly like I might have some tucked away. “I—um—”
“I’ll get it.” Lily hustles away. “What are you making?” she calls from the kitchen.
“My famous salmon chowder.” Gretchen gives me that smile again, and my guts turn to chowder. “It’s a family recipe.”
I’m too dumbstruck to think of a response, so James comes to my rescue. “Gretchen is my brother Jonathan’s sister.”
“Your sister,” I repeat, only catching some of his words. Seriously, I had no idea sweatpants could be so sexy. How have I never met this woman?
“Not his sister.” Gretchen shoves her hands in the pockets of her blue hoodie, which matches her eyes almost perfectly. “The Bracelyn family tree is kind of a mess. Jon’s the second oldest, but we have different dads. I’m not a Bracelyn at all.”
Lily rushes back to us with a glass jar and presses it into Gretchen’s hand. “Gretchen’s been staying out here while she’s at OSU Cascades. She’s an adjunct professor and an absolutely brilliant researcher.”
“A researcher.” I look back at her, watching as her eyes scan my face. I brace for the flicker of recognition in her eyes. For what comes next. What always comes next.
Wait. Didn’t I see you in an article about—
Aren’t you the guy who—
Don’t I know you from—
“Want some soup?”
I blink as Gretchen holds up the glass jar of dill. “This is the finishing touch. I made a ton of it and I heard you say you were starving.”
I did say that.
But I also said I was leaving. Hitting the road, getting far, far away from here as soon as possible. I should definitely do that.
“I’d love some soup.”
What the hell?
“Great.” Gretchen grins. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name. And I’m hoping you’re a friend of James and Lily and that I didn’t just invite the vacuum cleaner salesman to dinner.”
“Gabl—Gabe,” I stammer.
God, that was dumb. Even with the abbreviated version of my name, she’s going to recognize me. Put two and two together and figure it out.
Weren’t you the one who—
“Gabe and I are friends from school,” James supplies. “And Gretchen—reads a lot.”
I’m trying to figure out what that has to do with anything when she laughs again. “That’s his polite way of saying I don’t get out much. Probably why I’m accosting strangers with dinner invitations. It’s okay, you don’t have to come in and sit there making awkward dinner conversation if you don’t want. I can package up the chowder for you to take wherever you were going.”
Where was I going?
Right. The cabin. The remote cabin in the woods more than an hour from here. I should be getting on the road.
“I’m not in a hurry,” I hear myself saying. “I’d love to join you.”
“Great.” She quirks an eyebrow at James and Lily. “You’d tell me if he was a serial killer, right?”
My gut twists at her words. I’m grateful she’s not looking at me. That she missed the wince, the flash of guilt I’m positive flickered in my eyes just now.
But James catches it. He’s staring at me, icy gaze boring hard into mine. “Not a serial killer.” He speaks the words to me, like he’s willing me to believe them. “Not a murderer of any kind.”
Gretchen cocks her head, eyeing him curiously. “You know, it’s a little hard to take you seriously when your face is covered in lipstick.”
“What?” James swipes a palm over his face, missing the biggest smear by half an inch. “Where?” He turns and frowns in the mirror by the door, then makes an exasperated noise. “Was someone going to tell me?”
Lily shrugs and turns with her tissue to mop her handiwork off his face. Gretchen regards me with a curious look. “Not a very good friend, Gabe. Letting your pal walk around with lip prints on his face?”
“I’m kind of an asshole.” Might as well put it out there.
Gretchen smiles. “In that case, should I rescind my dinner offer?”
“No soup for you,” I quip, doing my best imitation of the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld.
Gretchen blows a strand of hair off her forehead with a vaguely sheepish expression. “Okay, I’m guessing that’s a movie reference.”
“Television, actually.” Wait, she’s never heard of the Soup Nazi?
“I don’t watch that, eithe
r.”
“What?”
She shrugs, hands fisted in her hoodie pockets. “Movies, TV—any of it. I don’t even own a television.”
I’ve never heard of such a thing. “Are you Amish?”
She laughs and shakes her head. “I’m a research scientist. And a PhD candidate. And a professor. Not a lot of time in there to add TV junkie to the list.”
Lily finishes swiping the lipstick off James’s face and turns to join our conversation. “We’re sort of hoping once she finishes her dissertation, she’ll become one of us,” she says. “Binge-watching Grey’s Anatomy and Stranger Things over large quantities of wine.”
“Dare to dream.” Gretchen holds up the dill and takes a step back. “I’d better finish my chowder. Gabe—come on over when you’re ready. It’s the cabin next door. Jon and Blanka’s place.”
I know I should get on the road. I’ve got a ninety-minute drive ahead of me. This is my chance to back out. To be alone. To get in my car and drive far, far away.
But as I look at Gretchen, I know I’d walk on my lips across crushed ice to eat a bowl of cold oatmeal with her.
“I’ll be right over.”
Chapter 2
Gretchen
Oh, dear God. Did I really just invite a strange man to dinner?
Admittedly, it’s been a slow stretch of months since I accepted the adjunct professor role at OSU Cascades. Between lecturing and researching and grading papers, my lone foray into dating was a disaster.
Besides, the little apartment I rented next to campus came equipped with a homebody roommate, which is why I jumped at the chance to house sit for my brother.
