The 48 Hour Hookup (Chase Brothers)

by Sarah Ballance

  “Then someone didn’t treat you right.”

  She almost laughed. Plenty of someones hadn’t treated her right, but even before that, not one of them had her back arching against a thick rug on a wooden floor, some kind of silent plea for his touch to inch lower. Good grief, was she really doing that? With a concentrated effort, she managed to draw a shaky breath and force her lower back to the floor. Which had the effect of tipping her pelvis toward his fingers until they touched the top hem of underwear that were terribly close to granny status. Not that anyone could fault her for that. How was she supposed to know the hottest HVAC guy on the entire planet was going to show up and send her into meltdown mode?

  “You see how responsive you are?” he asked. Not so sleepy now. More like he was about to devour her. “I can’t imagine what would happen if I actually touched you.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re actually touching me,” she managed. Embarrassingly, she almost sputtered it.

  “And you’re not asking me to stop,” he said in a lazy, sexy bedroom voice. Which was so wrong. He needed a fully clothed on an old but freshly vacuumed rug voice. That, she might be able to resist.

  “I think stopping was already a rule,” she pointed out. She kind of hated that rule.

  He immediately removed his hand. “Shit. I’m sorry.” He sounded awake now. And apologetic. And not like he was going there again.

  She squeezed her eyes closed. Wanting him to finish what he’d started, however inadvertently, was out of line. Almost as wrong as feeling some kind of emotional attachment to a man with whom she shared nothing but a distaste for infamy.

  And a bed.

  Sort of.

  She had to get it out of her head that he was anything she wanted. They’d been thrown together by circumstance and nothing more. He wasn’t the only man in the world with green eyes. That he was the only one she trusted at present said a whole lot more about her flawed judgement than it did him, and it was a waving red flag that she needed to avoid him. The lodge was her safe place, and letting something happen with Liam was guaranteed to destroy that comfort zone.

  She was so not wanting him.

  Right.

  She felt like every cell in her body clamored to drag him back in, like she had one fingerhold on a precipice of logic, and the rest of her wanted to be flung.

  Flinging sounded fantastic.

  Then a phone rang. Moment broken. Body still on the verge of an epic cliché of an explosion, not quite up to speed on the fact that with an apologetic look, Hot HVAC Guy had slid out of their makeshift bed and now stood on the other side of the room, no attention paid whatsoever to his ringing phone. Instead he was staring out the window, both hands on his head like he was stretching for a coffee commercial, only what she could see of his expression wasn’t the blissful look of a man who’d just taken a deep breath of his favored morning brew. Nope. It was more the look of one who was re-evaluating his life’s choices after a narrow brush with death.

  Despite her completely imagined, at-best-implied insult, she couldn’t help admiring him. With his arms up, a hint of his abdomen peeked between his shirt and his jeans, which were just low-slung enough to make a sainted woman fall at the feet of the devil himself. His hair, unruly from sleep, begged to have fingers driven through it. Everything about him was so blatantly, casually sexy that it almost seemed unfair. She was probably a total mess, limbs still rubber because he’d grazed her belly with his fingertips, while he stood over there like it was…nothing.

  “Need me to leave you alone to deal with that call?” she asked. It was a pointed question, possibly a pathetic one, because the phone had long since stopped ringing. Clearly he’d been grateful for the escape, and she was irritated by the fact that she couldn’t be likewise appreciative, but he’d left her on the verge of an orgasm, and she wasn’t sure how he’d managed to move, let alone walk with the size of that erection pushing his jeans all out of sorts. Shouldn’t his knees be weak or something?

  “No, nothing to deal with,” he said. “It wasn’t work or family.” Her expression must have held questions, because he added, “I have a different ringtone for them.”

  “Oh.” Her fingers still tingled with the thought of tracing that expanse of belly. In what was perhaps the greatest injustice she’d ever personally witnessed, even asleep, the man had had defined abs. He was more than hot. He was inhuman. He had to be if he could ignore a phone call without even seeing who it was.

  And judging by the way she was all but panting, she hadn’t put nearly enough distance between them.

  He glanced around the room. “The power back on?”

  She stood and walked over to a lamp she was pretty sure had been on when the power failed. She hit the switch—twice—and the bulb remained dark. “Not yet. Hopefully it’s a problem down the mountain. Otherwise it might be a while before it’s fixed.”

  He turned his attention back to the window. “Beautiful day. There’s a solid foot of fresh powder out there.”

  She rubbed her eyes, but even closed, with her fingertips wiping at the lingering image of that man, she couldn’t stop seeing him. “Fresh powder. Is that snowboard lingo?”

  “Nah.” He hesitated. “Maybe. Skiing, whatever.”

  “There aren’t any cleared downhill trails around the lodge,” she said. “Not unless you want to go down the road, though with those switchbacks and the likelihood of storm debris, I don’t recommend it. But there are a few cross country trails and some skis in the shed. I’m sure they, too, are cross-country, seeing as how that was the only kind of skiing my uncle ever mentioned, and to my knowledge all they ever did here.”

  He glanced back outside, then to her. “Do you have any neighbors up here who might have supplies? Dry tinder or matches or anything?”

  She thought for a moment. “There’s a cabin not too far away. I don’t know who owns it or whether it’s occupied, but most people leave emergency supplies on site. We might get lucky.” She cringed over the part about getting lucky, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Sounds like it’s worth checking out, but since I don’t know where I’m going, I believe you just talked me into insisting you come with me.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he had a point. And as much as she hated the thought of strapping on skis, a warm fire would be great, and his excitement was contagious. It seemed a visceral reaction to the idea of getting out there, and frankly, she could use the chance to cool off. “Only if you’ll teach me,” she finally conceded. And immediately regretted it. She had never gotten near a winter sport that didn’t turn disastrous, and that luck had now officially extended to cutting down Christmas trees. And the victim of said bad luck was going to put her on skis? Not the smartest idea…at least not on her part.

  But she definitely needed to cool down, and a foot of fresh snow was a guaranteed way to accomplish that.

  Thirty minutes later, they were bundled up and standing outside in front of the shed. It wasn’t until she noticed Liam had walked up to the building and was peering at the back of the lodge, where the service porch was, that she remembered the raccoon. She was about to ask Liam if he saw anything when a gray and black ball of fur jumped, barking and growling, from the thick evergreen shrubbery that provided a windbreak against the porch.

  “Shit.” He took what she suspected should have been a quick step in the opposite direction. But well over knee-deep in snow drifts, he managed only to fall over backward. The raccoon retreated, save for a lingering guttural growl and a dent in the snow that looked like a basketball had hit it.

  She put so much effort into not laughing out loud that she nearly fell getting to where he lay, unmoving, in the snow.

  “Tell me that did not just happen,” he said as she took his hand and helped him upright, a difficult task compounded by the thickness of her gloves. He ended up mostly helping himself, but he held onto her hand for a moment longer than necessary. Several moments, in fact, before she awkwardly withdrew.<
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  “I think it happened,” she managed.

  His gaze drifted briefly to her mouth before meeting hers. “I think it will.”

  She’d never in her life seen anything greener than those eyes, and they were on her. And she was absolutely not cooling off. Not with the not-so-subtle implication of those words, which—however innocent they might sound—were loaded with innuendo. And she wanted to drown in it.

  Like that was a good idea. That she stood there, in broad daylight, considering anything happening told her the air up there must have been thinner than she thought.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone fly backward so quickly,” she finally said, offering a much needed change of subject.

  “I’m sure it was a riot,” he muttered. But he smiled. “Since our friend has obviously come outside the kitchen now, think we can close that window from the outside?”

  “I’m sure,” she said. “Need me to tell you which one it is?”

  “I’m going to go with the open one,” he said, giving her a blank look.

  “Oh.” Heat flooded her cheeks. Idiot. “What if that’s not the same raccoon?”

  “It is. His mask is crooked. I’d know that face anywhere.”

  “What if he has a cohort?” she asked.

  “Then the cohort can hang out in the kitchen. We’ll check it out when we go back in.” He waded through the drift and the bushes and closed the window with surprisingly little effort. No wonder the raccoon could come and go as he pleased. “Now where are those skis you mentioned?”

  She showed him to the shed, where a dozen pairs of skis lined a wall. He went through them quickly, convincing her he knew a lot more than she did about what was what in there. After a quick perusal, he handed her a pair of skis. “What size boot?” he asked.

  She told him her shoe size, and he handed her a pair of boots. She’d forgotten they were in there, but of course her uncle had stocked them with the ski gear. He didn’t offer a huge selection, but his guests had enjoyed getting out on the mountain. Even though many spent their days at the bigger ski resorts more closely adjacent to town, not all came with their own gear or the desire to tackle a downhill run. Like her. If she had to ski, she liked the idea of flat ground beneath her feet. The lodge sat on the edge of a ridge, with the road climbing steeply to the front, providing dramatic views across the valley. To the back of the structure, however, the ground sloped more gently. The views were intermittent, but she felt safer that way.

  That good feeling didn’t extend to sticking her foot in something that had been sitting for years in what probably qualified as the outdoors. Protected from the elements, sure, but not critter proof by any means. Hell, the lodge hadn’t been proven critter proof. Dubious, she turned the first boot upside down and shook it. Nothing came out, so she stuck her gloved hand inside to make sure no critters had taken up residence. When she withdrew her hand, she had her answer…and not the one she wanted. A large black spider, all eight creepy, beady eyes fixed on her. “You did this on purpose,” she grumbled. She stepped past Liam into the shed, then shook off the offending creature. Not that it did any good to free herself of the thing. She felt like she had a thousand of them crawling on her.

  “Did what?”

  “Gave me an enormous spider.”

  “I’m pretty sure I didn’t do that on purpose,” he said mildly. “Though if I had, I would have been disappointed. That was the most boring reaction to a spider I’ve ever witnessed.”

  “The raccoon was an aberration. I’m not usually a screamer.”

  “Good to know,” he said slowly, a smile teasing his lips.

  She glared, entirely too heated by the thought of him making her scream, and grabbed a brush off a nearby shelf. After thoroughly cleaning out her boots, running a pair of arachnids out of the second one, she wordlessly handed over the brush. He followed suit. No spiders in his. Of course.

  Together they walked out onto the snow, which had become blinding white after her eyes had adjusted to staring at dark corners and peering inside boots in the shed. She dropped her sunglasses over her eyes and noticed he did the same. They were operating in unison. Adorable. Only he probably wasn’t worried he was about to go plummeting to his death off the side of the mountain. Or why he’d taken the first excuse to get out of that awkward physical situation they’d worked themselves into. She still wasn’t sure he’d ever looked at his phone to see who had called. Her own phone battery was dead, but she’d noticed his plugged into an external battery pack. Of course, because when the last thing you needed was an interruption…

  Ugh. Not so much. The last thing she needed was to be floating around in a daze. Her attraction him already felt like a betrayal of the woman she’d been when she’d fled the city. Or maybe she’d just slunk away, not that it mattered. If she went back, she’d be a different person. She just had to fit those pieces back together. Find a new normal. A new normal that would not under any circumstances include a man who was almost as recognizable as she, though for significantly less humiliating reasons.

  But despite that last non-negotiable point, her traitorous mind lingered. If the rest of him was anywhere near as talented as those teasing fingers, she could only hope to find herself in a world of trouble.

  Or to avoid it.

  Avoiding would have been a grand idea.

  Avoiding skiing would have been a close second.

  Liam watched her attempt—and fail—to navigate the simple task of simultaneously holding skis and poles, amusement teasing his lips into a grin. “How is it possible you haven’t done this before?”

  “I wouldn’t say I never have. It’s just not my forte.” She’d done it exactly once, but who’d asked him?

  “And you’ve determined this how?”

  She stopped trying to juggle her ski poles and immediately dropped one. Annoyed, she leaned down to swipe it off the snow. “The first and only time I ever ice skated, I spent a whopping four seconds on my feet before falling from a standstill and breaking my arm two days before Christmas. It was years after that before anyone talked me into strapping skis to my feet, but ultimately I fell for that whole they’re-flat-on-the-bottom spiel and gave it a try. I must have some natural talent, because I did manage to steer into a tree, which seemed better than going down the entire mountain. Needless to say, that ultimately and efficiently ended my short-lived interest in winter sports.”

  “But you’re here with me?”

  “Don’t ask me to think too much about that.” She glanced in his direction, fully prepared to scowl, but was distracted by the fact that he wasn’t laughing at her. Or mocking her. He seemed to be studying her. Maybe he was skeptical. She couldn’t blame him. She’d come here every year for most of her life. That she might have skied more than once wasn’t such a stretch. Especially for a man who showed up for a furnace job with a snowboard in hand.

  “What about a sleigh ride?” he asked.

  “The horse would probably kick me,” she said.

  “What if I promised to protect you from the horse?”

  The way his arms had felt around her, he was welcome to protect her from anything. Apparently other than herself. “It might be a moot point. I still have to survive this ski trip.”

  An adorable grin teased his lips. “I have the utmost faith you will survive this ski trip.”

  Yeah, sure she would. He had to show her how to connect her boot to the ski. With one foot in, she almost fell over. When the second boot snapped in place, she stupidly stretched out her arms to adjust her jacket, which in turn caused her poles to lose contact with the ground, which then caused her to slide a few couple of inches. “Oh, no.”

  Liam looked up as she wildly stabbed the sticks at the snow. “What?”

  “I moved,” she admitted.

  “You weren’t kidding about not liking this stuff.”

  Claire looked up at him and found her distorted reaction scowling back from the reflection in his sunglasses. “Winter sport fai
lings aside, I’m still not exactly the outdoorsy type,” she said.

  “I kind of noticed your failings as a lumberjack,” he said dryly. “And now that I know you aren’t experienced on these trails, I’m not entirely confident you won’t send me over the edge of a ravine.”

  She managed a smile, finally finding some humor in this whole sordid situation. “I think I exceeded spectacularly as a lumberjack. I managed to hit a moving target with a thirty-foot spruce.”

  He cocked a brow. “You hit an idling target, and I’m not so sure that’s your bragging point here. Besides, I think it’s closer to twenty-five feet.”

  Freaking technicalities. She could use a win, considering she was the one standing there, woefully inadequate in the face of snow and a gentle slope. “Well, I’m not going to send you over the edge of any known ravines.”

  He paused in the middle of adjusting his sunglasses on his nose. “Known ravines?”

  She shrugged and hid a grin. “If I don’t know they’re there, I can’t make any promises.” Maybe he was a little worried after all.

  He stared for a moment, then shook his head and laughed. He had a perfect smile, and a perfect dimple when he laughed, but she found herself missing the intensity of that green-eyed stare with it hidden behind sunglasses. Though she was better off missing it.

  She’d fallen for that whole good-looking guy shtick before. The fact that he was hot enough to melt the snow beneath his skis was more of a warning sign than something to lust after. Not that she lusted. Lusting was…messy. Lusting had landed her first fiancé in the supply closet with her maid of honor just hours before the ceremony. Talk about bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. He was probably still limping.

  And she was still staring.

  “Look,” she said, more than a little flustered. It was probably evident in her voice. In fact, she’d bet it was. “I’m not sure I could get these things off my feet if I tried, and there may or may not be a raccoon in the kitchen. Or an entire family of them. We have a witness to your arrival—one who will definitely remember you because he wants to get paid for fixing your truck—and I’m still going to need heat at the lodge. If none of that convinces you that I’m not going to intentionally send you over a cliff—”