by J. S. Scott
He didn’t think there was anything sexier than a woman who wasn’t afraid to enjoy her food. At first, he wondered whether she could out eat him, but he’d managed to consume an even larger breakfast before he stopped. Lara ate slower and savored her food. Now he was just enjoying watching her. Nearly groaning as she licked maple syrup from her bottom lip and closed her eyes in ecstasy, he sat his fork on his empty plate and stared openly.
Lara was an enigma, yet if he took into consideration what he’d found out about her background, maybe she really wasn’t. Unfortunately, he hadn’t yet found anything about her that he didn’t admire or adore about her. Even the way she ate made him like her even more. His dick practically worshipped her. No picking at her food or a salad for this woman. She ate with enjoyment, consumed her meal as if she didn’t know when she’d eat again. And the fact that she could kick some major ass?—pretty damn hot. Unfortunately, there were some things about her that troubled him. Namely, what the hell was she really doing here in Rocky Springs? Now that he was aware that she wasn’t a tourist, he was even more baffled.
What Lara had said about the way James treated Chloe also nagged at him. If what she said was true, he needed to get with his brothers and find out whether the rumors about James were true, and find a way to get Chloe away from James for good. There was no way he and his brothers were letting their sister marry an asshole.
“You like your food,” he commented neutrally as she finished the last bite of her waffle.
She eyed him carefully. “I do. Do you have a problem with that, Colter?”
“Nope. I like it. I can’t stand it when women pick at their food and profess not to be hungry when they actually really are starving.”
“You do?” Lara looked at him, perplexed.
Tate looked into her chocolate brown eyes and surveyed her confused expression. “I do.”
“My ex used to say I ate like a pig.” She placed her napkin and fork gently on her plate before she picked up her coffee mug to finish the beverage.
“I think a woman with a healthy appetite is sexy,” he rasped. Watching her eat was like watching her come: a look of complete ecstasy on her face. It just made him want to be the cause of that particular expression himself. “Your ex was a douche.”
“Agreed,” she answered happily.
She looks so much more relaxed today. Happier than she was yesterday.
Lara was dressed casually in jeans, sneakers, and a dark green sweater that made her eyes look even larger than they already did.
“What are your plans for the day?” Tate hoped it was for her to follow him back to his place and spend the day with him in bed. He needed to fuck this woman so badly that his balls were turning blue. Regrettably, he was doubtful that idea was on her radar.
“I already have plans.” She looked deliberately at her watch. “In fact, I have to go.” She jumped up as if her ass were on fire. “Thanks for telling me about breakfast.” She waved at him as she strode across the room like a woman on a mission—another thing he liked about her.
Tate watched; his eyes narrowed as she disappeared into the elevator. “Go ahead and run away, sweetheart. You won’t get very far.”
Determined to figure out the mystery that was Lara Bailey, he rose from his chair and followed her.
“Lara!”
The sound of a feminine voice calling her name made Lara stop and turn, even though she was impatient to get outdoors. Chloe Colter rushed across the lobby to meet her, dressed in much the same outdoor gear as Lara wore: ski pants, a sweater, a jacket, gloves and hat slung over her arm. Although Chloe was dressed mostly in red, and Lara wore black.
“I’m so sorry about earlier. I just talked to Tate, and he said you were okay,” Chloe said in a rush as she reached Lara.
She and Chloe were about the same height, around five foot four, but Chloe had a more feminine frame than Lara, curves that most men enjoyed. Lara noted the distress in Chloe Colter’s gray eyes as their gazes met.
“It’s okay. I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have injured your fiancé.” Even though the bastard deserved it. “Is he okay?” Not that I care. Lara plastered a concerned look on her face as she really hoped James was at home in bed, still whining over his probable damaged nose, sprained foot, and sore back.
Chloe fidgeted nervously. “He’s all right, but pretty angry right now. He’s mad all the time lately. I don’t understand what’s wrong with him. He’s been acting strange since I got back to Rocky Springs last year.”
He’s an asshole. More than likely, he’d always been that way, but Chloe hadn’t seen her fiancé enough to recognize that he was a jerk while she’d been busy with college. The veterinary program had to be intense. “Did you go to the same college?”
“No.” Chloe lowered her eyes. “He’s four years older than I am, and he was already done with his undergraduate work when I graduated from high school. We were in separate states after that summer. He was in med school the same year I started undergraduate work at college. We dated during the summer before we both had to go our separate ways for school. We saw each other when we could.”
“People change,” Lara said cautiously. “Maybe it’s time to re-think marrying the guy.” It was none of her business, but Lara didn’t want to see Chloe Colter married to an abuser. She didn’t want to see any woman married to an abusive male.
“He apologized. He says he’s under a lot of stress,” Chloe explained hesitantly.
“That’s no excuse. Dump him, Chloe. You’re educated, beautiful, and young.”
Chloe sighed. “Tate said the same thing.”
“I’d listen to him,” Lara said emphatically, surprised that she and Tate Colter were actually in total agreement on something.
“I’m definitely giving up trying to learn any martial arts with him,” Chloe told her adamantly. “I was wondering if you’d teach me.”
Lara cursed the pleading look in Chloe’s eyes. She wasn’t a teacher. “I don’t instruct, Chloe—”
“Please. I’d like to learn,” Chloe pleaded.
She opened her mouth again to refuse, but gut instinct slammed into Lara. Maybe teaching this woman some basic moves might someday save her life. “I won’t be here very long, but I’ll teach you some basic self-defense stuff before I leave.”
Chloe looked relieved. “Thank you.”
“Are you headed out?” Lara nodded at the winter gear in Chloe’s arms.
“Yeah. I want to see if I can catch a few runs on the slopes before the blizzard gets here. We’re supposed to get pounded later this afternoon. Once the winds get too high and the visibility starts to suck, they’ll close the slopes.” Chloe looked Lara up and down. “You look dressed for the outdoors. Do you want to come along with me?”
“I actually don’t ski,” Lara confessed. “I rented a snowmobile for the day. The trails look awesome.” Not that she had any intention of following all of the trails, but the snowmobile paths were pretty extensive around the resort property.
If Marcus Colter won’t come to me, I’ll go to him.
“Be careful,” Chloe told Lara in a warning voice. “There’s a blizzard coming in later. Do you know how to handle a sled in mountain terrain? The trails are pretty easy, but it’s a little tricky on some of the steeper areas.”
“Absolutely.” Lara lied through her teeth. It had taken her a minute to realize that the “sled” Chloe was talking about was actually the snowmobile. Is that what they called them here? “I’ll be cautious, though,” she added to make Chloe feel better.
“Good. Have fun.” Chloe beamed at her. “Stick to the novice trails and come back before the storm hits.”
Lara hadn’t even known there was a storm coming in. She’d been too involved in her research and finding the exact location of Marcus Colter’s home. A snowstorm might actually work to her advantage. Obviously, she couldn’t drive onto Marcus’s property for no reason. But she could go out on a snowmobile and get accidentally lost, right? A
storm comes in and covers the trails, and she ends up at Marcus Colter’s home without suspicion. Just a lame, ditzy tourist who gets lost in the mountains.
Perfect.
Lara smiled and waved at Chloe as they exited together and parted ways. Heading straight to her rented snowmobile, she yanked on her outerwear, anxious to finally accomplish the job she’d come here to Rocky Springs to perform. She had to. She was very quickly running out of time.
A few hours later, Lara found out that the challenge of actually riding the snowmobile on mountain terrain wasn’t a problem. It had been the unknown, the lack of knowledge of the area that had found her lying on her ass in the snow. Although she hadn’t been riding very fast, the pine tree had come out of nowhere when she came up over a slope, and she slammed right into the trunk of the massive obstacle.
“Dammit!” She rolled to her feet, annoyed with herself for rendering her only mode of transportation at the moment disabled. On impact, one of the skis on the front of the transport had broken, and she’d only veered off the trail a mile or so back, meaning she was still several miles from Marcus Colter’s home.
“Shit. Shit. Shit,” she muttered irritably to herself as she stared at the unfixable ski. “I guess I’ll be walking.”
The wind speed had increased, and the visibility had started to suck, which was one of the reasons she hadn’t been quick enough to avoid the tree. Snow came down heavily now, and her boots were already covered in snow nearly to her knees since she was off-trail.
Find my way back to the trail or continue on to find Marcus’s home?
Tearing off her helmet, she took a step toward the snowmobile that she’d flown off of only a few minutes ago. The muscle in her right thigh protested; she winced. She’d hyperextended her leg, the limb getting caught up on the snowmobile and stretched before she had finally been thrown off the vehicle. As she rubbed at the painful, large muscle without relief, Lara knew her safest option was to head back to the trail before it was covered in snow so she could find her way back to the resort.
Diving into the zipper pocket of her jacket, she pulled out her cell phone. “Of course. No signal,” she muttered under her breath as she fumbled to slip the phone back into her pocket. If she was in a no signal area, it should pick up as she got closer to the lodge. If the weather caused the outage, she was screwed.
Wishing like hell she hadn’t stopped at the sports shop near the resort on her way out to the trails, she limped back toward the snowmobile route. She had a warmer hat, a scarf, and thicker gloves, but a whole lot of good those items were going to do for her now that she was stuck in a blizzard. She would have been better off leaving immediately instead of making the stop for warmer outer gear and then making a phone call to her boss. Those two things had lost her time, and it would have been a valuable hour and a half considering the winter storm had just started. She could have been at Marcus Colter’s home by now.
With her scarf over her face to protect it from the brutal wind and snow, Lara made her way painfully back toward the area where she’d left the trail, stopping way too often because her leg was killing her.
Keep going. Just keep moving.
It was too damn cold for her to slow down. And it was getting almost impossible for her to see a damn thing. The landmarks she’d taken note of during her ride were no longer visible. She put her helmet back on, hoping to get better vision with the visor to protect her eyes, but it didn’t help.
She was stuck in a total whiteout and stopped to attempt to get her bearings. Refusing to panic, she leaned against a tree and squinted into the swirling mass of white that blocked her vision. That was when she thought she heard the sound of a motor blending with the howling wind.
I’m hearing things. Nobody else is going to be out in this weather.
But the noise got stronger, closer, and Lara waved her arms in the hope that whoever was crazy enough to be out here with her would see her. Fortunately, she wore mostly black snow gear. She should stand out in the whiteout conditions.
Somebody did see her, and Lara was astounded as a powerful, black snowmobile came to a stop right beside her. The person piloting the vehicle was large, probably male, but she couldn’t make out any facial features. All she could see was his helmet and the goggles that protected his eyes.
“Get the fuck on the back, Lara. Now.”
The mystery of who was out in the storm was solved as she heard the angry male bellow of Tate Colter, his voice loud enough to be heard over the brutal, wailing force of the wind.
She didn’t hesitate to admit her relief as she swung her leg over the back of the powerful machine and put her arms gingerly around the powerful body on the snowmobile. It didn’t matter that he annoyed her. She was grateful to see anybody on a working vehicle at the moment.
“Hold on tight,” he growled in a voice loud enough for her to hear him.
In the end, she didn’t have any choice but to hold onto him, nor did she have the opportunity to look for passenger holds to hang onto instead of clinging to Tate. He took off like a bat out of hell the moment she was seated and her feet were in place. The snowmobile he drove was a lot more powerful than the one she had rented. She clung to him; her heartrate accelerated as she wondered whether the guy had a death wish and he would take her along with him. He flew through the blizzard at breakneck speeds that might have been exhilarating if she hadn’t been terrified.
How could he see where he was going? All Lara could see was pure white everywhere and she finally ducked her head behind him and lowered it to his back to block the wind, unable to do anything except trust him and keep her death grip around his waist. She tried not to hamper his driving. She attempted to lean with him when she needed to, but it was almost impossible to anticipate his moves until he’d already made them. His lightning-quick actions on the powerful machine were already completed before she could even react.
After the first few minutes, her heartbeat slowed, and her erratic breathing began to normalize as she realized that Tate seemed to know exactly what he was doing.
If we aren’t dead yet, he obviously knows what he’s doing.
They were surrounded by trees, and they flew up and down slopes without a single mishap. Tate handled the drive as though he’d done it a million times before. She still thought he was insane for traveling so fast in adverse conditions, but he was obviously comfortable with it, completely familiar with the terrain.
Lara shivered, her body half frozen from the intensity of the cold winds.
Her breath hitched as the skis of the snowmobile left the ground and flew over a narrow ditch. Lara finally exhaled as they landed deftly and surprisingly lightly on the other side. They flew downhill for what seemed like the millionth time, and Tate turned the machine onto what was probably a road, a flat tract of land that wasn’t covered in as much snow. He gunned the engine and opened the snowmobile up to full throttle as they careened down the flat, open space of land devoid of trees.
She didn’t even see the house until they were nearly on top of it. Tate slowed and came to a stop in front of a large log home.
“Get inside and get warm. The front door is open. I have to put up the sled.” His voice was powerful and no-nonsense.
Lara didn’t argue. She clambered off the back of the machine, hanging onto Tate to compensate for her gimpy leg. As she staggered to the door, she saw him disappear into the haze of white almost immediately.
She turned the knob on the beautiful front door, and it gave easily. She stepped onto the gorgeous wood floor in the foyer, and stripped off her snow gear as quickly as possible. Lara frowned; she wished she had entered in a mud room of some kind. After she gathered up her wet boots, socks, snow pants, jacket, and other saturated winter gear, she veered toward what looked like a kitchen, and passed a lovely, rustic living room with antique fire equipment that decorated the walls and shelves on her way. With her arms full of wet gear, she didn’t have time to admire the kitchen, although it was definitely large
and looked like any cook’s dream. Relieved, she located the laundry room and mud room to the garage off the kitchen. She hung her wet things on the hooks provided and searched the kitchen for a towel. The house was gorgeous, and she didn’t want to leave water on the beautiful wood floors. It might be a log home, but it was more of a mansion than a little cabin in the woods. Everything was custom, the detail put into the construction evident in every wooden beam adorning the ceiling to the luxurious wood floors. It was interesting how the builder had managed to make the home feel rustic…yet elegant.
She was wiping down the puddles on the floor by the door when Tate came into the house, worried that the water would damage the flooring.
“What the hell are you doing?” His voice was low and reverberated with what sounded like anger.
“I’m cleaning up the water on the floor. My stuff was soaked.”
“Leave it.”
Lara finished the job quickly and rose, but flinched at her sore thigh.
“You hurt yourself?” His voice turned to gentle concern.
“I’m okay. I hit a tree with the resort’s snowmobile, though. I broke one of the skis. I’m sorry.” She walked toward the laundry room to dump the towel.
“I said leave it.” He took the towel from her hand, led her to the couch in the living room and motioned for her to sit. “I’ll have somebody go out and get the snowmobile when the weather clears. It’s no big deal.”
She sat and sighed as the weight of her body was taken off her leg, allowing her thigh muscle to finally relax.
Tate went to dump the towel in the laundry room after he switched on the gas fireplace, returning in a few minutes with cups of hot chocolate and a blanket. He wrapped the blanket around her body and handed her one of the steaming mugs before he dropped onto the other end of the sofa.
“Would you mind telling me what in the hell possessed you to stay out when you knew a storm was on its way, and then to leave the damn snowmobile trail on top of that? Colorado blizzards are no joke. I talked to Chloe. She said she warned you that a storm was coming,” Tate grumbled. His gray eyes surveyed her cautiously as he took a slug from his own cup.
