“I think I’m gonna call it an early night,” Beck said. Willis shrugged one shoulder.
“Sure, man,” he said and stood. “See you tomorrow, then.” Willis grabbed his big silver puffer jacket from the coatrack and headed out the door. He shot one parting glance over his shoulder at Beck, but Beck couldn’t read his partner’s expression. He wondered if he’d made a mistake not taking his friend up on that drink. What was he doing sitting at his desk and cyber-stalking Allie? But he knew why. He couldn’t get the woman out of his head. Or his heart. Or his life. The harder he tried, the more she dug in, somehow.
Beck’s phone dinged then, an alert that Allie had posted something new to her account. He turned his phone over and checked, seeing a new photo of Allie at the bar, holding up her own phone and a list of new contacts she’d entered into her phone—all men’s names. Beneath it read the caption Dared to get five men’s numbers in fifteen minutes. Dare complete.
Beck sat up. What the hell was this? Five numbers in fifteen minutes?
He read backward and quickly surmised the game: Mira had sent out a post asking all their friends for suggestions on dares to help Allie “get out of her shell.”
Beck’s back teeth ground together. He liked Allie just fine in her shell. There was no need for her to come out of it. He also took note of the several shots she’d already downed that night and it wasn’t even six yet. What was the woman doing? She had the tolerance of a mouse—and that was before she’d dropped ten pounds. Now she was out there getting men’s numbers and probably kissing more bartenders and doing who knew what else. He looked at the last picture and recognized the miner’s big telltale copper bell at the end of the bar. That was the North Star.
North Star was one of the oldest bars in Aspen. It was where silver miners used to go to celebrate their finds or drown their sorrows, and the big bronze bell still stood at the end of the bar—the bell miners rang when they had found a big lode of silver and planned to buy their fellow miners a drink. Beck loved the feel of the place. It was what Colorado was all about: adventuring souls who shared their good fortune. And now the bar catered to locals looking for cheap pitchers of beer and several big screens of whatever game might be on. If Allie was going to North Star, that meant she might be hitting on people he knew. Why didn’t she just go to one of the nice resorts that he knew she preferred? Sleep with tourists he wouldn’t know and would never see again?
Just leave it alone, Beck. She probably doesn’t want you crashing her big get over Beck night. It was a mistake, though. Aspen might be a major ski resort, but in the end it was really just a small town. About ten thousand residents lived in the area all year round, but tourists doubled that population on average every day. So the locals ran in tight circles and mostly kept to themselves. And they gossiped. So much. It was why Beck tended to keep to the tourists. He could have his fun and then not worry about the consequences. If Allie took a local home, there’d be rumors swirling around them for weeks. Even months. Locals got bored, especially around the holidays, and they loved nothing more than to talk about each other.
Another photo came up, a new one, and this time Allie was standing next to a rough, tattooed dude with a beanie cap on and a loop through his nose. He looked like one of the many pipe rats that littered the slopes these days—kids thinking they’d invent the next big trick that would land them on the podium at the Games. Beck took a closer look. Wait a second. He wasn’t just any pipe rat. That was Taylor Johnson and he was nothing but trouble. First off, the man was married. He’d gotten hitched two weekends before in a hasty ceremony since his girlfriend was eight months pregnant. So Beck had no idea what he was doing out at the bar, posing for pictures with Allie and not wearing his wedding ring. Beck wondered if Allie knew any of that.
There was one way to find out. Looked like he was headed to the North Star.
CHAPTER FIVE
ALLIE WAS HAVING the time of her life. At least, that was what she told herself, and the more she drank, the more she believed it. In the last hour, she’d gotten five strangers’ numbers, bought another man a drink and had exchanged her scarf with Taylor’s checkered scarf, which she now wore draped around her neck like a trophy. Beside her, her new friend Taylor was showing more than a little interest, and his frame was enough like Beck’s that she kind of liked it. He was tall and blond, though he had streaks of bright green in his hair, a look that normally she’d say was trying too hard to broadcast that he liked to risk life and limb trying a double backflip, or double cork, in the half-pipe. She hadn’t met him before tonight, but he was actually quite nice, and eager to buy her drinks and feed her compliments, and for once she wasn’t thinking of Beck.
“Have I told you that you’re the sexiest woman in this room?” Taylor leaned in, his brown eyes earnest as he slid another beer her way on the ornate but old-fashioned bar. Beneath her feet lay the sticky floor and mismatched tiles. This was a far cry from the trendy, upscale places she usually preferred—the tourist hangouts with the trendy drinks, where she and Beck would so often run into each other. But that was the whole point. She was hoping not to run into Liam Beck.
The bar was small and standing room only since they were running a locals’ happy hour, with beer on tap half-price. Mira and Allie claimed a small corner of the bar by the wall, and Taylor maneuvered himself between Allie and Mira, and now almost had Allie pinned against the wall. Normally, Allie hated guys who were so instantly territorial, but given how much kissing Beck had rattled her the day before, she was eager to put that in her rearview. That meant Taylor would get a pass.
“You’re so sweet,” she said and took another drag of her beer.
“You’ve got another dare!” Mira chimed in, beside her, as she sipped at her vodka soda and glanced at her phone. “Ooh, this one is good. Kiss the first bearded man you see.”
Mira glanced up and looked around the crowded bar, and Allie did, too. Usually, beards were a dime a dozen in Aspen, the longer the better, but tonight the place seemed all stubble and no beard.
“Seriously?” Mira asked no one in particular. “No beards?”
“How about I go grow a beard and you kiss me?” Taylor suggested, and he moved closer to Allie, and now her back lay flat against the wall. Allie felt a little uncomfortable with his hemming her in, so she laughed a little and wiggled to the side.
“I don’t think that would count.”
Taylor leaned in and whispered low in her ear, “Why don’t we get out of here and go to your place?”
Allie couldn’t believe his boldness. It was barely nine, she’d known him all of fifteen minutes and Mira was standing right there. Not that she’d heard.
“That’s not part of the game,” Allie said, deflecting him.
“Ooh! Here’s another dare,” Mira said, pulling up her phone. She read it, squinted and read it again. “Uh...”
“What is it?”
“It’s Beck,” she said, frowning at the screen. “He’s asking if he can play, too.”
Beck? What the...? Allie turned then and locked eyes with Beck, who was already moving through the crowd, parting the patrons easily as they shifted to make room for him. His eyes were focused on her and she hated how she felt a little flame of excitement tickle the back of her neck, how her body reacted instantly, how she was already leaning into him, even though he was still across the room.
“Well, this is going to be interesting,” Mira said in the understatement of the year.
* * *
Allie looked amazing, even if she was wearing that ridiculous scarf around her neck. That was Beck’s first thought. His second was that he wondered why every time he saw her his breath caught a little as if, somehow, all the way across the room, she was managing to squeeze him from the inside. She wore dark shadow around her eyes that made them pop and told him tonight she planned to take no prisoners. Good. Neither did he. Allie was silently sending hi
m about a dozen messages across the bar, most of which he could tell started and ended with WTF. Well, he’d explain himself later. And she probably wouldn’t be grateful, but he wasn’t going to let her hang with a man who was clearly deceiving her. All he wanted to do was get to Allie. He was there in a few long strides and clapped the man—hard—on the shoulder. Taylor whirled, a frown on his face, and then it lit with recognition.
“Liam Beck.” He said the name as if it left a foul taste in his mouth.
“Taylor. You don’t sound happy to see me.” Beck kept his hand on the man’s shoulder a beat too long. He could smell the beer wafting up from him. He’d had a lot to drink already, which could make what came next messy.
“I thought you’d be too busy losing gold medals to come out drinking.” Taylor sneered at Beck, as he usually did. The punk thought that silver was a loss, that he could do better in the next Olympics. Beck welcomed him to try. The sport only got more competitive every year, harder and more dangerous.
“At least I have Olympic medals,” he muttered beneath his breath. “So, Taylor. Where’s your wife? Melanie?”
Taylor turned as white as the beer coaster on the bar. “Home,” he said.
“Wait. You’re married?” Allie clearly had no idea.
“Has she had the baby yet?” Beck had to admit he was enjoying this just a little bit. Taylor and Allie both looked like a light wind would blow them over.
“Baby?” Allie echoed, horrified.
But Taylor didn’t even bother to answer. He had defeat written all over his face as he finished his beer, set it on the counter with a thump and then put his back to them all and left without so much as a word.
“Did he just leave?” Mira cried, staring after him.
“He’s married, though?” Allie said. “But he was trying to kiss me.”
“That’s what you get for playing with amateurs.” Beck leaned into the spot Taylor had left.
“I cannot believe the nerve of that man. I’m going to out him,” Mira said, and she began furiously typing on her phone, probably posting something not so nice about Taylor.
Beck kept his attention solely focused on Allie. “So I’m here. I’m ready to play double dare.”
“Beck, you can’t play,” Mira said, not looking up from her phone.
“Why not?”
“Fine. I dare you to leave, then,” Mira suggested.
Beck shook his finger slowly back and forth. “I’ll only take dares from Allie. This is the game we started last night, and I just wanted to finish it.” He stared at her long and hard, and almost thought she was imagining the same things he was: her lips pressed against his, his hands running up the tender skin of her back. She was the most beautiful woman in this bar—hell, in this state. Could she feel that current running between them? The invisible tether that connected them? He wondered if the whole bar could feel it.
Mira glanced back and forth between Beck and Allie. Clearly, she’d noticed the connection.
“Can you give us a second?” Allie asked Mira at last.
“You sure about this?” Mira eyed Beck like he might be a poisonous snake. He couldn’t blame Mira for looking after her friend. He would’ve done the same in her position.
“Mira, it’s okay,” Allie said. “We have some things to settle.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Mira asked, but Allie gave her a long look, and she swallowed her protest. “I was going to go get another drink anyway. And I think I see some people from work I know over there.” Mira nodded to the corner. “If you need me, that’s where I’ll be.”
Allie stared at Beck the entire time Mira moved away. Mira sent worried glances back at her friend, but Allie never looked in her direction.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to finish our game,” Beck said and grinned. “You didn’t let me finish last night.”
“That was on purpose.” She tapped her foot angrily against the floor. “That was for...breaking my boots.”
He laughed and shook his head. “I was only trying to help.”
“Right. Like you’re only trying to help me now.”
“I am,” Beck said. He leaned in and got a whiff of Colorado wildflowers. God, he loved her smell. “Or was one of your dares sleeping with a married man?” He cocked an eyebrow.
Allie let out a frustrated sigh. “No, that was not one of the dares. I can’t believe he was pretending to be single. He wanted to go to my place!” Allie smacked her forehead. “What would’ve happened if we’d gone? I feel like an idiot.”
“You’re not the idiot.” Beck blamed Taylor. “He’s the idiot. For thinking you’d fall for it. Even if I hadn’t come along, you would’ve figured it out. I was just trying to spare you the trouble.”
“You think?”
“I know.” Beck nodded once, swiftly. “Come on. You see through all my bullshit.”
“True,” she said and gave him a playful nudge with her elbow, her eyes suddenly grateful. He saw how hard she was trying to be on her own, how much she wanted this all to work. He knew she wanted to believe there was nothing between them, when even Beck could feel it there, like a living thing between them, this bond, this connection. The lodge mattered, no matter how either of them tried to deny it to themselves. He hadn’t been the same since, and he knew she’d felt the aftershocks in her life, too. Why else would she be acting out like this?
He just wanted to pull her into his arms, tell her to stop trying to fight against it so hard. But then again, wasn’t that what he was doing?
“Al,” he began. And he was going to tell her...what? They were going to live happily ever after? He was never going to break her heart, when that was all he seemed to know how to do with the women in his life? That was all Becks were ever taught.
“Yes?” She seemed so hopeful in that moment, that part of him broke.
“How about tonight, just take a break,” he said.
Confusion flickered in her eyes. “From what?”
“From trying to be me.” The best way to get out of this emotional quagmire was a good distraction. And Beck was the king of distractions. Divert, tease, make light of any situation. Whenever any conversation got a little too close to the heart, he’d pivot. He’d been doing it his whole life.
“I’m not trying to be you.”
“You are,” he teased. “Double dare you is like my favorite game.”
“Not true. Strip poker is,” she deadpanned, and Beck barked a laugh.
“Okay, second favorite game. Come on, Al. Let me play. Please?” Beck could see Allie weigh her options. He could also see her physically trying to fight his charm. But he should tell her it was a losing battle. She’d give in eventually. “I promise not to get in the way of anything. And, upside, I make an excellent wingman.”
“You? You want to be my wingman?” Allie coughed in disbelief. “You want to sabotage me.”
“I do not. Look, you set the rules of the game. Anytime you want me to leave, I’m gone.”
“How about now?” she joked.
“Not yet.” He grinned. “We have to play first.”
A playful spark lit in her, and Beck could tell she was warming to the idea. “Okay, so we dare each other to do things.”
“Fine.”
“And if you don’t complete a dare, then...” Allie thought for a moment. “Then you have to personally apologize to every woman you’ve slept with this last year.”
“What?” Beck was taken aback.
“You have to personally apologize for loving and leaving them.”
Beck shook his head. “The women I sleep with know what they’re getting into. I don’t pretend otherwise.”
Hurt flickered for a second across Allie’s face before her brave mask came back up, and Beck mentally gave himself a swift kick in the ass. What w
as he doing? He knew Allie was the exception to this rule. He knew it. Yet there was something about Allie that was like walking truth serum. He couldn’t not tell her the truth. It was unnerving, especially for a man who’d spent his whole life carefully boxing away all the things he didn’t like to unpack.
“I mean, yes. Fine. I will.”
“You’ll apologize publicly. Social media, wherever, and promise to do one thing to make it up to them.” Beck knew Allie was talking about herself. Okay, then.
“Fine. I’m not worried about losing.” Beck had never faced a dare in his life that he hadn’t easily taken on. There was very, very little that scared him in this world.
“And if you renege, then you stop this game. Once and for all,” he said.
“Deal,” Allie said and held her hand out for a shake. He took it, and the second her small palm pressed against his, he felt a small bolt of electricity that went straight to his brain. There it was again, the feeling of connection, that there was a bond between them, something both delicate and strong at the same time.
“Okay, I’ll go first. I dare you to...” Allie considered this. “Order a frozen piña colada, with extra umbrellas.”
Beck groaned. He was a strict beer or whiskey guy. But he had promised to play the game, so play the game he would. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh? Fine.” He signaled the bartender. “But I dare you to drink a single shot of jalapeño tequila.”
“Ew.” Allie made a face and stuck out her tongue in disgust.
“You started this,” Beck said. “Ready to quit yet?”
“Hell, no,” she said and slapped the bar next to them with enthusiasm.
Beck ordered their drinks and in seconds was staring at the frilliest drink he’d ever seen: four umbrellas, two cherries, complete with a tourist’s take-home pink-rimmed glass, and somehow, against all odds, the drink was bright blue. He hoped nobody in this bar took a picture of him drinking the monstrosity. Allie, for her part, stared at her shot glass with disdain. She hated tequila. It was the one alcohol that always got her into trouble. Beck knew this all too well from last year’s Cinco de Mayo.
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