by Molly McLain
“I’m not trying to embarrass you or make you nervous,” he says, softer this time. “Or offend you, either.”
“I’m not nervous.” Definitely not offended. “Not anymore, anyway.”
“Good.” He leans back on the stool and the fabric of his T-shirt stretches tight across his chest and shoulders. My mouth goes dry and another part of my body goes traitorously wet. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”
Probably the longest night of my life.
***
“So, you grew up here?” RJ asks a little while later, after we finished dinner and cleaned up. I reclaimed my spot on the sofa near the fireplace and he’s kicked up on the couch, scratching Eddie’s ears and sipping another beer.
“Shanaka. You?”
“Hillsboro.”
“Really?” The Hillsboro Hornets were Shanaka’s biggest sports’ rivals back in the day. “I feel like our paths should’ve crossed at some point. This area is so small.”
“Maybe they did.” He takes a pull from the bottle and settles back a little further into the couch when Eddie flops down for a nap. “When did you graduate?”
“Ten years ago.”
“Ah.” He glances up at the ceiling, reflectively. “So, you’re, what, twenty-eight?”
“Will be.” I’d ask his age, but I did the math earlier when he mentioned how long he’d been away from home. “Did you play any sports in school?”
“Football and baseball. You?”
“Nope. I was a book nerd.” Still am, but more proudly these days. “President of the English Club and editor of the school newspaper, at your service.”
The corner of his mouth tips up into a smile. “So, what you’re saying is you were one of those unassuming librarian types, huh? Probably wore dark-framed glasses, your hair in a messy bun, and those sexy, schoolgirl skirts.”
My brows rise. “That’s some description.”
“Spent a lot of time looking.”
I just bet. “Weren’t the cheerleaders more your type?”
“Nah, not really. Too caught up in themselves. High maintenance as fuck, too.”
I snort. “That’s my sister.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmm hmm.” I glance to the fire, burning a little brighter thanks to the extra wood RJ put on. It’s been two years since Karyn married Dillon—three since he and I broke up—but her betrayal still stings. And not for the first time, either. “She was the prom and homecoming queen. Slept with every guy on the football team, too.” Or at least it seemed like it. All I really cared about was the blow job she gave my high school boyfriend in the bathroom she and I used to share.
“Might be wrong, but I’m sensing a little animosity there.”
I make a throaty sound. “You don’t even know the half of it.”
He cocks his head to the side, his eyes warm and inviting. “Keep going then.”
“No way.” Tugging the blanket higher on my chest, I shake my head. I don’t want to remember it and I’m sure he doesn’t really care to hear it.
“Why not?”
“One, it was, like twelve years ago. Two, it was gross. Enough said.”
“She banged your boyfriend, didn’t she?”
I practically choke on my own breath.
His amused eyes narrow, studying me without speaking.
“It wasn’t like that,” I reply, shifting in my seat. When he looks at me like that...like he’s really looking, I swear he’s casting some kind of spell on me. Making my body heat up all over.
“Either way, it was a bitch move.”
Mmm hmm. And when he looks at me like that—like he’s offended on my behalf—my heart beats a little faster. He’s a genuinely nice guy. I lucked out finding him here.
“You okay?” he asks, brow creased, as he brings his beer to my mouth, muscles in his arm flexing. “I didn’t mean to drag up old hurt.”
Definitely a nice guy. Sexy, too. “I’m more than fine. I mean, the high school boyfriend wasn’t even the worst of it.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “No?”
“She married my ex.”
“Ex-husband?”
“Oh, my God, no!” I laugh. “College boyfriend.”
“Jesus Christ, she sounds like a real piece of work.”
I wrinkle my nose at him and smile. “Now you’re catching on.”
He scratches a hand over the top of his head, chuckling. “Sisters are fucking mean, aren’t they?”
“Obviously, my choice of men hasn’t been the greatest either.”
“Happens to the best of us, Crash.” He winks and takes another sip, and I can’t resist the open door he just gave me.
“So, your choice in men sucks, too?”
“Fuck that,” he snarls just like I expected he would.
I grin and gesture to his hair. “Well, you’ve got that hipster look going on, so...”
His jaw drops, but his smirk remains. “Wow, Crash, stereotype much?”
“You never know. I mean, I thought maybe—”
“You thought wrong,” he interrupts, pinning me with narrow eyes. “Or maybe you’re just yankin’ my chain.”
“Maybe.” I lift an innocent shoulder and he growls beneath his breath. “Tell me about your family.”
“Not much to tell. No brothers to steal my girlfriends, if that’s what you’re hoping.”
“I’d never wish that on anyone.” He hums and taps his bottle of beer against his knee. “Sisters?”
“Nope.”
I wait for more, but his focus has drifted to Eddie, snoring on the floor next to him. “And?”
“And what?”
“Your parents? Aunts, uncles?”
“They’re around,” he says, then, “What, do you want a family tree or something?”
I laugh. “You’re supposed to proving your semi-normalcy, remember?”
“The fact that I can cook wasn’t enough?”
“Hannibal Lector and Jeffrey Dahmer could cook, too.”
To that, he not only laughs, he roars. “Good one, Crash, but I don’t plan on having you for breakfast.”
As glad as I am to hear that—and as anxious as I was to get back on track to Minneapolis—the realization that I probably won’t even be here for breakfast suddenly disappoints me. I kind of like this guy.
He’s quick-witted and funny, laid back and easy to talk to. And that beard and long-on-top hair... The longer I look at him, the more I want to touch.
“Not that I’d mind a taste,” he says lowly and kind of out of nowhere, drawing my eyes back his. He’s watching me in that quietly curious way that makes my pulse race.
A taste? Did he really just say he wants to taste me?
“What do you think about that?”
I...um....
“Wait.” He sits up suddenly, swinging his feet to the floor. “Don’t answer that. I want to show you something first.”
Sweet baby Jesus, who is this man? More importantly, what is he doing to my typical sensibility?
When he stands and offers me his hand, I take it, because, you know, apparently being holed up with a stranger has made me easy.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He tugs me toward the hall by the bathroom and then down another short hallway to the right, past two closed doors. He stops at a third and flashes that an almost goofy grin. “You feeling adventurous, Crash?”
God help me, but yes. Yes, I am.
He hits a light switch beside the door and pulls it open to the blustery night. Frigid air assaults my face and lungs, and my nipples, covered by a thin T-shirt and bra, tighten instantly.
The January weather isn’t to blame, though. It’s the covered deck, lined with twinkling white lights hanging above an outdoor hot tub that does it.
He wants a taste, I want to touch, and I have sneaking suspicion that we’ll both get what we want if that hot tub has anything to do with it.
Chapter Four
“But I do
n’t have a suit,” I say, when RJ suggests I change while he gets the hot tub ready. The excuse is more of an effort to preserve my reputation than it is anything else. We both know I’m getting into that tub with him and we both know I don’t need a swimsuit to do it.
“You think I have one?” His raspy chuckle echoes off the hallway walls as he closes the door, shutting out the cold. “I’m sure we can make do.” He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and I shudder.
It’s a simple touch. Nothing more than dipping a toe into the pool, but, damn, if it doesn’t have every nerve in my body sitting up and taking notice.
I may be a confident, self-reliant woman, but one-night-stands and casual, scratch-the-itch flings have never been my style. This right here, however? With RJ?
I want to dip more than a toe.
“What’s going through this pretty head of yours?” he asks, gently dragging his knuckles along my jaw. At some point in the last few moments, he’s moved closer. His warm breath dances along my forehead and his cologne...or deodorant or whatever it is...smells amazing. Clean, crisp, masculine... Makes me want to breathe a little harder and a little faster, just to take it in.
“Just thinking about how crazy this day has been,” I admit, swallowing down the saliva that’s pooled on my tongue.
His lips hitch to one side as his eyes search mine. “Good crazy or bad crazy?”
“Unexpected crazy.”
“Ah.” His gaze slips to my mouth and he lifts a lazy hand, stroking a thumb across my lips. “Sounds like a hell of a good time to me.”
I laugh nervously. “I wouldn’t have thought so a few hours ago, but now...”
He cocks his head to the side, pure trouble flaring in his eyes. “Now what?”
“Now I’m thinking you should get that hot tub ready.”
***
Gretchen is going to die. Providing she hasn’t already stroked out with worry, that is.
God, this cell issue is a pain in the ass. It’s been almost five hours since I was supposed to check in. Knowing Gretch, she’s deployed the cavalry. I’ll be semi-naked with a man for the first time in too freaking long and the troops will come marching in to save my sex-deprived ass.
Quickly undressing to my bra and panties—a cute pink Victoria’s Secret set, thank God—I slip into the robe once again and twist my hair into a sloppy bun. If my makeup and lotions weren’t still frozen in my car, I’d freshen up to enhance the mood, but somehow, I don’t think RJ’s the type to care.
My God, how is this my life?
A cabin.
An attractive man.
An outdoor hot tub, covered in clear, twinkling lights.
It’s like the gods just dropped me into a fantasy and threw up their hands. Have fun, Jules. Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.
I giggle—because apparently, I’ve been reduced to a giddy teenager—when my phone starts to ping like crazy on the counter.
“Holy crap.” The signal dances between one bar and two, and I’m pretty sure I look like one of those new-age dancers, flailing around trying to keep that signal.
Tried to report you missing, Gretchen texted. Hasn’t been 24 hrs so the cops blew me off. Do you know the shit that can happen in 24 hrs? OMG, tell me you’re not bear bait!
I laugh, hearing her frantic voice in my head. No bears, but I am stuck in BFE. Roads shut down. Found a place to stay. Do not worry! I hit send and wait in agony, hoping it goes through. It does...and the I lose signal again. Crap! I didn’t even get a chance to message Rush’s publicist about my little travel delay.
Sighing, I leave the phone on the counter in case the Great White Porcelain God happens to be a miraculous summoner of signal, then I exit the bathroom for the second time today in nothing but RJ’s robe, my bra, and panties.
“Hey.” He grins up at me from his stance at the island, one bare ankle crossed over the other. I had him pegged for a black boxer briefs kind of guy and I wasn’t wrong. What I didn’t expect was the perfectly honed six pack. Or the thick, muscled thighs. Or that perfect dusting of hair on his chest. “You all right?”
More than all right. “Uh, yep.” I won’t pretend I’m not nervous, but there is zero chance I’m going to pass up this opportunity, either.
“I thought maybe you were flaking on me.” Still grinning, he pushes upright, all big and tall, confident and imposing. But there’s a gentleness, too, that promises I could change my mind right this instant and he wouldn’t blink an eye. No questions, no pressure.
“Not flaking. I just had a moment of cell reception in the bathroom. Finally connected with my friend.”
“Ah.” He steps forward and my eyes drop to his legs once again. God, he’s hot. Is this really my playground tonight? “How about Rush?”
I shake my head. “No. Signal died right away.”
“It’ll all work out,” he says, hooking a finger beneath my chin and lifting my face to his. “What are the chances I can get you to forget about that for a while?”
I press my lips together in a knowing smile. “Is there something else you’d rather I think about?”
“Fuck, yes.” He closes the distance between us and slides his big hands from my hips to my lower back. His chest bumps mine and just that little jolt alone tightens my nipples. “You smell good,” he says, nose nuzzling my temple, his beard lightly abrading my skin.
“Thank you.” My hands curls around his forearms as his lips brush the shell of my ear and goose bumps roll down my body like a flash fire.
“You’re an unexpected surprise, Crash. Shame about your car, but I’m damn glad you ended up here.”
Right now, I am, too.
“You ready for the hot tub?”
I’m ready for him.
***
“It’s f-freezing out here!” I gasp when we step outside. The patio is covered enough by the overhead awning and surrounding fence that there’s hardly any snow on the deck, but the wind is downright frigid.
“You’re telling me?” RJ hops from one bare foot to the other just inside the hall. “You’ve got the robe on.”
“Not for long.” With fingers far less shaky than I would have expected, I reach for the tie at my waist.
“Let me do that.” His voice low and gruff, he brushes my hands away, quickly loosens the robe, and slips his hands inside.
“Ahh!” I suck in a breath, my skin prickling at the chilly, but welcomed touch. “Cold.”
“Soft,” he counters, and I melt a little with his appreciation. If he knew how long it’s been since a man’s looked at me the way he is right now... “You sure?”
...he wouldn’t have to ask.
“I’m sure.”
“Good,” he rasps, his eyes flashing feral. “By the way, I’m really fucking glad you ditched your car. No offense.”
God, but I love his contradictions.
“I think we should get in,” I say, nodding to the water.
“I think you should let me finish undressing you.”
I do him one better. I shrug the robe off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
“Fuckkk.” His growl crackles in the night air around us, his big palms gripping tighter around my waist. Sliding his dark gaze down my newly exposed body, he licks his lips and a pleased smile lifts on mine.
I’m not perfect. I’m hippy and my thighs touch from top to bottom, but the way he looks at me makes me feel like the sexiest woman alive.
“Let’s get you inside,” he croaks, and I let him help me in.
“Ahh, so warm.” I sink to the top of my shoulders and relish in the heat, as he climbs in after me, claiming the seat right next to mine.
“Aren’t you glad I thought to turn this on earlier?”
“While I was napping?”
“Before.” He lifts a shoulder and flashes a boyish grin. “Vacation, remember?”
“If you think I’m disappointed that this wasn’t completely planned out, you’re wrong. I kind of dig the spont
aneity.” I kind dig all of it, if I’m honest.
“Me, too.” He tucks another lock of hair behind my ear, letting his fingers trail down my jaw. “What can I get you to drink, beautiful?”
“What do you have?”
He tips his head toward the little makeshift bar behind him—complete with a flickering candle and a plate of fruit and cheese—that I somehow missed.
“Look at you, all fancy,” I tease, and he waggles his eyebrows playfully.
“This was planned, though. While you changed.”
“I still approve.”
Looking pleased with himself, he pours something fruity from a pitcher into a tumbler. “Just OJ and peach schnapps,” he says, handing it to me.
“Perfect.”
He takes a beer for himself and, for several moments, we sit in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the warmth. The snow falling beyond the patio is pretty in the faint moonlight, streaming through the thick trees, and I’m taken back to my childhood, sledding outside my grandparents’ house after dark. We’d have bonfires and hot chocolate and between me, Karyn, and our small tribe of cousins, we’d wear Gramps and Gram right out.
“What are you thinking about?” RJ asks, setting his hand on my knee beneath the water.
“Just that it’s been a long time since I’ve been home. Since I’ve enjoyed the quiet like this.” My gaze slides to the woods, so dark and mysterious, yet so peaceful.
“Still think I’m crazy for wanting to unplug?”
“No.” I get it now. I remember.
“See?” He gives my knee a gentle shake. “Maybe you were meant to put your car in that ditch.”
I laugh softly. “Maybe. I’d feel a lot better about it if I had some reassurance that Rushton’s going to understand. I may have my reservations about the guy, but I still want to do a good job. I kind of like my job at the Times, you know?”
“Yep.” He dips his chin. “Gainful employment is a good thing, for sure. How long have you been there?”
“Five years. Since I finished grad school.”
“Ah, you’re a smart one, huh? Where’d you go to school?”
