by Lex Martin
Drew is all about the easy lay. Everyone knows this about him. He doesn’t woo women, buy them flowers, or plan romantic dates. He’s never struck out because he never tries. Because he doesn’t have to.
For some unknown reason—like that force field in the Bermuda Triangle that’s doomed many a plane—women trip over themselves to give it up to this guy. I’ve watched it happen with my own eyes—perfectly intelligent women going giggly in his presence before they offer themselves up as his dessert du jour.
Which is why I vowed long ago never to be one of his quick and dirty fucks.
I mean, I imagine they’d be dirty since this is Drew we’re talking about.
Not that I think about Drew having sex. Much.
“You have arrived,” the GPS system announces as we turn into a driveway.
“Omigod, Drew. You got us here, and we didn’t die.”
Thick evergreens tower over the narrow road, so the snow isn’t bad, but when the forest opens up near the cabin, a frosty blanket covers everything. Drew pulls to a stop about ten yards from the house.
“I don’t think we can get any closer.”
“Whoa. It’s beautiful. Like a Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale.” I press my nose to the window and then wipe away the fog with my elbow.
The picturesque log cabin is nestled at the top of a ridge. I roll down the window and breathe in the crisp forest scent.
“Josh’s new cabin looks pretty sweet. His parents have a cool pad up here somewhere too.”
Excitement rushes through me. “I haven’t made snow angels since I was a kid, but I’d love to flop on that snow and make one.”
“KK, you’d freeze to death and ruin your boots.”
Before we hit the road, I changed into jeans, a long-sleeve T-shirt that I paired with my wraparound burgundy sweater, and leather boots. I should be wearing hiking boots, but they’re at the bottom of my bag in the back.
“Maybe, but it’d be worth it.” I smile at him, and he grins back.
As we’re busy smiling at each other like idiots, the realization that we’re the first ones to arrive strikes me, and my anxiety kicks back in.
“Where is everyone? Shouldn’t Evie and Josh be here? They left before us.” Our car is the only one here, and there are no other tire tracks. The charming cabin in front of us is dark. His smile fades, and he turns to study the house. “Shouldn’t there be other cars? Shouldn’t the lights be on? Unless there’s another way to get to the house.”
He nods slowly. “Yeah. Maybe there’s another road on the other side? Or they got stuck in traffic or stopped to get groceries. I’m sure they’ll be here soon. They won’t care if we wait inside for them.”
“Do you have a key to get in?”
“Um.”
After a beat, I laugh. I can’t help it. “Okay, crazy man. I know you’ve done wilder things than break us into a house, but you have my approval to put all of your ninja skills to use and get us in there. Because I’m pretty sure we’ll freeze if we stay in your Rover.”
“I did break into a sorority house once. Well, I had permission. Kinda.”
He trails off, and I let him. “Save your sexual exploits for another time because we both know that would take too long.” I check my phone again. Still no signal. Drew doesn’t have one either. “Maybe we can jimmy one of the windows, like along the back. Maybe there’s one that wasn’t locked. My parents always forget to lock all of their windows.”
“Good plan.” He hands me Shazam. “Hold him for a sec.” He climbs out of the car and trudges through the snow until he opens my door, turns around, and pats his back. “Climb on.”
“You want me to ride piggyback while I hold your kitten?”
“Yes. You guard my cat. I keep you dry and happy. Win-win. And we can figure out how to break in together. Unless you want me to commit this misdemeanor by myself.” He grins at me over his shoulder. “Come on. Live life on the edge.”
After a minute, I nudge his shoulder.
“You’re very persuasive when you want to be.” His smile widens. This is obviously not news to him. “Fine, but don’t drop me, and if I get too heavy, let me know.”
“I can handle you, tiger.” He pats his back. “Let’s rock this.”
I’ve lost my mind. Clearly.
I wrap Shazam in my sweater so he’s snuggled against my chest, and then I knot the tie at my waist before I tug on a thicker jacket, leaving it open so I don’t suffocate Drew’s kitten.
His little nose peeks up, and his purring grows louder. Guess he’s okay.
Cautiously, I scoot out and wrap my arms around Drew’s broad shoulders. Holy crap, he’s muscly. And then he helps me wrap my thighs around his narrow waist.
When he straightens to his full height and hoists me up higher, I yelp, because dang, he’s tall, and being pressed up close to his body is intense.
“Hang on.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. As he plods through the knee-high snow, I cling to him, praying we don’t break our necks.
Except…Drew feels really sturdy beneath me. Solid. Plus, he has a good hold on my thighs with those big hands.
After a few minutes, I start to relax. If I weren’t so uptight, this probably would be fun.
We make our way to the front of the house, but of course that door is locked. Since I’m up pretty high, we pause along the side of the house to check the different windows.
We’re slogging through a particularly heavy mound of snow when a blast of wind blows my hair around my face and into his.
“Sorry. I should’ve tied my hair back before we started this trek.”
“No worries. I’m good.” He pauses. “Hey. Look.”
I follow to where he’s pointing.
A narrow window is cracked open along the side of the house. “Yay! Maybe you should take Shazam, and then you can give me a boost up there.”
He gives me a look over his shoulder. “No way. I’ll do it.”
“You’re not going to fit through that window. Your shoulders will never make it. I’m not sure you’ll be able to even if you turn sideways. Let me do it. I’m fun-sized. Then you can go back to the front, and I’ll let you in.” I poke him. “You just told me to live life on the edge. How much more on the edge can I get than breaking and entering?”
After a long pause, he pats my thigh. “Just be careful. If you get up there and can’t make it over, we’ll figure out something else. It’s not worth you getting hurt.”
A flutter of butterflies hits my stomach. Either I’m oddly touched by Drew’s thoughtfulness or the adrenaline is kicking in from the semi-crime I’m about to commit. Though I’m sure Josh won’t care that I’m going to scale my way into his house.
I slide down Drew’s big body and miss his heat as soon as we separate.
When we get into position, I help him tuck the kitten to his chest the way Shazam was snuggled to mine. Drew sniffs his fur, and his lips tug up. “He smells like you.”
I stare up at him, pausing to appreciate how good he looks like this. Ruddy-cheeked from exertion and the cold. Eyes bright and attentive. Dirty-blond hair disheveled and wind-blown.
He’s beautiful.
And when he smiles at me like that, I feel it all the way down to my boots.
As I think about the past few years, I realize he’s not the same guy I met at that restaurant, the one I wanted to stab with my steak knife.
A thought crystallizes in my mind.
If we didn’t have the history we have, I’d be totally into him.
I cough and turn to face the house. “Let’s do this.”
8
Drew
Kendall inhales deeply and braces her arms against the snow-covered sill, preparing to scramble to the upper window. She glances over her shoulder at me. “I’m ready. Hoist me up?” Her teeth chatter so much I want to kiss her to make them stop—a thought I’ve had more than once in the past hour.
Correction, hours.
&nb
sp; Okay, I’ve been obsessed with kissing her for days. And by days I mean months.
I pause, examining the puffs of warmth she exhales in the crisp mountain air from her fresh, pouty lips. My shortness of breath isn’t from the altitude, but the bright look on Kendall’s face. Downright friendly, if not…inviting?
Something changed on the drive. Despite the chilly surroundings, her expression is no longer Ice Princess of the Oregon Realm. At least, I’m not sensing that she’s imminently going to duct tape my balls to my leg—which was previously the undercurrent of every interaction we’ve had since Josh and Evie got together. Instead, her attitude is softer. More open.
It takes me an embarrassing amount of time to answer her, and I end up just saying, “Yes, ma’am.”
Before Spider Girl moves up the rounded wood sides of the log cabin, I extract the kitten from my shirt and set him on a ledge so I don’t squish him. The mini-monster lets loose a pathetic, tiny meow. I rub under his chin as he picks up his paws gingerly, not liking the frost. “Just hang on a sec, Shazmeister. We’ll get you curled by the fire and purring in no time.”
“Let’s get all of us curled by the fire,” Kendall says, her inscrutable eyes on mine, and I nod.
Wonder if I could get her to purr, too.
Down, boy, I tell myself. We’ve just moved from her hating your guts, to tentatively getting along. No need to jinx it, no matter how much you’re attracted to her.
Moving behind her, my hands linger on her small waist. I grin and murmur into her ear, “I’m full service. Pack mule. Personal slingshot. Whatever bodily services you need.”
Best come-on words ever, I’m sure, but Kendall’s forcing me to be creative. If I used my standard “Hey, girl, let’s fuck” line, I’m sure Kendall’s response would involve a garrote—or at least pain in two or three of my body parts.
Weirdly, I like the idea of her touching my body parts, even with pain.
Kendall looks over her shoulder and grins, her nose as red as a cranberry. “I’m sorry you had to carry me. I’m a total oaf.”
I pause before responding, because when I carried her all I could think about was how those lean thighs needed to straddle my front. Preferably while I raided her smart mouth with my tongue. Since I was fantasizing, I imagined her wearing absolutely nothing as I thrust into her.
So, yeah, she’s not an oaf. At all. But she doesn’t need to know my X-rated thoughts. I’ll stick to being transportation.
I adjust myself and take a step back to survey her. “You weigh about the same as Shaz.” She blushes as snowflakes gather on her eyelashes. “Let’s continue this conversation inside. As my cousin Sven would say, it’s fooking cold.”
A peal of laughter escapes her. “You don’t have a cousin Sven.”
“True. Get in the crack, woman. You, me, and this beast need to defrost, pronto.” With my hands under Kendall’s arms and her foot on my thigh, I push her skyward as she scrambles up the side of the house.
It doesn’t get much better than this. A front-row view of Kendall Greer’s juicy rear end as she gooses her way into the open window. She wedges her head and torso inside, but then gets stuck, balancing on the window like the world’s sexiest teeter-totter, with her legs kicking and seeking purchase on any surface below her.
Dude, be a gentleman. “Need some help?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but will you give my ass a shove? Just a little more, and I’ll be in.” Her voice comes out muffled. “And don’t get any ideas.”
“Too late,” I call.
Boy, is it ever too late.
I carefully place both of my hands on her pert boo-tay, cradle it for a moment because reasons, and aid her skyward.
Oh, God. I need to go to church now—that’s a thought I’ve never had—since her ass is holy. I’ve checked it out plenty, but getting to touch? It’s perfection. Toned, springy, soft, round. She’s so full of beautiful butt I don’t know what to do with myself.
Hot. Damn.
Her legs disappear in the house, one and then the other, and I hear a thump on the ground. Her face appears in the darkened window. “I’ll let you in,” she yells, and points toward the front door. I scoop up Shazzy and make my way through the drifts and snowfall up to the front porch. There’s no way we’re going anywhere for a while. Not until the storm stops and the roads are plowed.
I know what I want to plow.
Dammit, dude. Stop.
When I get to the entrance, I stomp the snow off my boots, and Kendall opens the door, greeting me. My heart races, but it’s not from trudging through the icy terrain. It’s from the sight of her poised in the doorway, with her flushed face and wild tendrils of hair.
Seeing her in this moment reminds me of the first time I looked up at the night sky and saw ten million stars shining back at me.
Overwhelmed. Unworthy.
Like my heart might break its way through my chest.
“Hi,” she says breathlessly, her chin tilted up to me as I face her. We’re just inches apart, breathing together. Suspended in the winter air with no one but us in the silence that hushes the mountain.
Her eyes have flecks of gold in them.
“Hi,” I whisper.
She stands awkwardly for a moment, then says, “Come in, come in. This place is incredible.” I peer over her shoulder at the shadowy house, then look behind me where the snow is getting vicious. Priorities. I don’t want to have to shovel out the car to get clean clothes.
“Let me get our things. You take the cat.” I hand her the kitten and turn around, trudging back to the Rover. Eventually, I haul in her luggage and mine, plus a box of diabetic-friendly provisions made by my Bee and about half of a pet store for Shaz. By the time I’m done, my jeans are soaked from the weather.
When I step inside, leaving my boots in the entry, I survey the room.
Goddamn. Josh is an architect with stellar taste, but this place is spectacular. The last light of the day showcases the great room with a huge stone fireplace stocked with half a cord of wood, comfortable leather couches and bookcases, and an open kitchen on the side. With tall ceilings and exposed beams, this place is a magical log cabin that’s had a trip of ayahuasca and some Reiki to balance its energy. Wide-open windows face out into the woods, where snow falls like a layer of gauze.
But we’re standing in the dark. And it’s not much warmer inside than out. “Something wrong with the lights?” I ask.
“I tried. None of the switches work. Is there a security system that we need to worry about?”
I pause. Is there? I’m regretting tuning out last night when my best friend blabbed on about this place. But then I remember.
“Josh turned it off remotely so we wouldn’t have to worry about the code if we beat him up here.” I glance around. “Is the electricity knocked out from the storm?”
She wraps her arms around herself. “I don’t know. Maybe a circuit is tripped?”
“Damn. I can check.” I have no idea how to untrip a circuit. I inspect the heater, like I could tell anything from the thermostat. Flipping the switch does nothing. While Kendall shivers in the middle of the living room, I enter the top-of-the-line kitchen and start poking around. The sink works, but either the hot water isn’t working, or it’s taking way too long to heat up. The stove clicks and clicks, but I think I can light it with a match. “Thank God,” I mutter. “We have water, and I think we can cook, but no electricity.”
Her expression is a few notches down from panic. “No electricity means no Wi-Fi. No cell service either.”
I size her up and give her my most soothing smile because her teeth are still chattering. “I think the first thing you need is something warm to drink and a roaring fire.” Before she reacts, I find matches in a kitchen drawer, fill up the first pan I find in a cabinet with water, hoping that there’s tea or cocoa stashed somewhere, light the burner, and place my makeshift kettle on the stove. Rifling through the cupboard, I find some hot cider packets and
tea and hold them up for her. “As your barista, I can take your order.”
Relief registers in her eyes, and her shoulders loosen. “Tea would be amazing, thank you.”
“One steaming cup of tea, coming up.” Finding dishes, I insert teabags in mugs for us and set down a bowl of water for Shazam, who laps it up.
As the tea water heats, the room gets dimmer and dimmer. The sun doesn’t last long this time of year, and since trees shade this cabin—oh, and there’s a storm raging—it’s even darker than usual. “I’ll start a fire, then see if I can find some flashlights or candles.”
She nods, wringing her hands and shoving them under her armpits. “I’ll help.”
“Nah. I gotcha.” Before she can say anything, I pick her up and deposit her on a cushion by the fireplace. “You need to defrost, my little icicle.” I snag a Pendleton blanket with a bison pattern and drape it over her shoulders.
“Thanks,” she says and gives me a small smile. She slides her knees inside her sweater like she’s at a slumber party and hugs her legs to herself.
My gaze softens. “I’ll warm you up. Just a sec.” Kneeling down on the hearth, I examine the fireplace like I know what I’m doing. While every house I’ve lived in has had fireplaces, either they ignite with a switch, or someone else builds the fire.
I have no idea what I’m doing.
“Do you know how to light a fire?”
“Let’s find out. After all,” I grunt, “man tame wilderness. Man bring fire.”
And man would like to not asphyxiate, so I reach into the fireplace to open the flue. See, I do know things.
While the cabin is stocked with plenty of logs, I need something smaller to use as tinder, and there’s no newspaper or firestarter. On a bookshelf, I locate a stack of National Geographic magazines and start ripping out the pages—articles about the sex life of ducks, mysteries of the Serengeti, our evolving brains. Part of me wants to read more about ducks with big corkscrew wangs, but other things are more important right now.
