by Addison Fox
“That really is quite the party you’ve got going on in there. Although, you’ll be pleased to note Hooch and Chooch just bundled themselves up for the walk home.”
Sloan shrieked as she whirled around to see Walker’s large silhouette framed in the doorway. Before she could reply around the pounding in her throat, he moved forward, the door closing gently behind him. “You’re going to freeze yourself. Here. Put this on.” He held out a large man’s coat to her as he shrugged into his own.
“I have a coat,” she informed him primly.
“And you need another one. Put it on.”
She took the offered garment, already understanding his point as the frigid night air seeped through the wool of her dress coat. “Thanks.”
“You need some new things. That coat won’t do up here and those boots”—he gave the stiletto heels a nasty glare that let her know exactly what he thought of them—“really won’t do.”
“Thanks, Mr. Gunn. So glad to have the fashion lesson. Now I know exactly what does not work.” The confused look in his eye both reassured and brought a small smile to her face. “Not a Project Runway fan?”
“Um, no.”
“You’re more the man-cave dwelling, let-me-watch-my-football type instead of the Heidi-and-Tim type?”
“You could say that.” A small smiled hovered over his lips as he fastened the last button on his coat. “Maybe we could try this again?”
“Try what again?”
Walker extended his hand. “Walker Montgomery.” When she just stood there staring at him, he reached for her arm, dragging her hand toward his. “And you are?”
Sloan tightened her grip. “Sloan McKinley.”
If she hadn’t been standing, frozen to the very depths of her impractically clad toes, Sloan wouldn’t have believed it. But as Walker’s hand enveloped hers for the faux introduction, a shot of electricity tripped along each and every nerve ending she possessed.
As waves of warmth flooded her wrist and traveled up her arm, settling somewhere in the center of her chest, she tugged lightly and tried to pull back her hand. Despite her best intentions to stay immune to his charm, the warmth continued to fill her, spreading out like ripples on a pond from her very core.
Oh man, was this guy lethal.
When he wouldn’t release her hand, she opted for bored disdain. “You make it a habit to follow women out into the cold, stealing men’s jackets for them?”
“Only when it’s women from the Lower Forty-eight, who don’t seem to know how to dress for the temperature.”
“Sounds like you get a lot of them up here, from what I’ve heard. That big competition next weekend is all anyone can talk about.”
Walker moved forward and Sloan had to tilt her neck to look up at him. She wasn’t a small woman—and the heels on her boots only added to her height—so the sensation was as unfamiliar as it was welcome. Up close, he was even bigger than he looked. “Tell me about it.”
There was something so manly—so physical—about him, Sloan was torn between taking a few steps back or tackling him to the ground and having her way with him.
Where had that thought come from?
As unexpected as the idea of tackling him was the bubble of laughter that threatened at the dismal note in his voice.
“You’re not all that crazy about the event?”
“Would you be?”
Sloan tapped a thoughtful finger against her lips. Although the gesture had been innocent, she didn’t miss the way Walker’s eyes grew even blacker in the reflection of the light, his gaze following her fingertip with rapt attention. “So the men don’t like it and the local women don’t like it. Seems like that would make for more trouble than it’s worth.”
“That’s not exactly how my grandmother sees it. And several of the men actually look forward to it.”
“You’re just not one of them.”
“No.”
“And the other grandsons?”
“Mick and Roman?” Walker let out a harsh bark of laughter. “They’d prefer a trip to the dentist, too.”
“Oh, come on, it doesn’t sound that bad. It is for charity.” Sloan had paid attention to Sophie’s little PR piece during the town hall, where the woman attempted to explain her grand vision of what the competition was really all about.
Charity.
Yeah, right.
Sloan tried to focus on the conversation at hand, though Walker’s strong physical presence was doing a number on her. A town full of marriage-obsessed matrons, desperate to marry off three men who had no interest and willing to go to great lengths to achieve it.
“So my grandmother hasn’t tempted you to compete in the event yet.”
Horrified at the thought, Sloan firmly pulled her hand back, suddenly remembering it was clasped tightly in Walker’s very warm palm. “No.”
“She’s awfully persuasive. Besides, how are you going to write about it if you don’t compete in it?”
“I’ll be interviewing the competitors for the piece.”
Walker shrugged, but she saw the light of battle in his eyes. “Seems like a cop-out to me.”
“I hardly think so.”
“Oh really. You come up here and claim the entire town’s out to get your friend. Then you decide to make a few bucks at our expense writing about us. Maybe you need to put a little skin in the game.”
Chapter Five
“Skin in the game?”
Walker watched the red already in her cheeks from the biting night air turn a deeper shade. It wasn’t until Sloan echoed his comments that he realized what his words might have implied. A distinct warmth settled in his core and his body tightened uncomfortably at the image of her exposed skin that lit up his mind’s eye. “Some commitment from you. Especially if you want to write a well-rounded article and all.”
“I don’t need to be in the competition to do that. I’m going to interview town residents, the competitors, as well as the bachelors. It will be a very well-rounded piece.”
“Sitting on the sidelines?”
“It’s a reporter’s job to watch and listen.”
Walker shrugged, enjoying the conversation—and baiting her—far more than he’d expected to. “I just think you could write a stronger piece if you put yourself in the game. If it’s too much for you, that’s another story.”
The hands she’d been rubbing together to keep warm slammed on her hips as her eyebrows rose. “Reverse psychology, Counselor?”
Damn it, but this was fun. It didn’t hurt that the light in her blue eyes offered an enticing challenge. “I’m simply making an observation.”
“Sure you are.”
“Come on. You heard the lineup of events during the town hall. It’s all done in a spirit of fun. None of the games are hard, per se. And the best part is that all the money raised goes into a town fund to help the community.”
“From what I’ve also heard, you’ve never been a huge champion of the contest. Right this moment, you sound like the tourism board.”
“What my grandmother and her friends have cooked up is sort of amazing.” As the words left his mouth, he had to admit they weren’t lip service. His grandmother had created something pretty amazing.
Why hadn’t he ever noticed it before?
And why did it take someone—even a someone as enticing as Sloan—to make him realize it?
“For the record, the bachelors don’t actually compete. They’re just the recipients of the attention.”
“But there is an auction, right? Do you participate in that? On a stage, in front of everyone.”
He ignored the neatly tossed jab. Clearly, Avery must have already been sharing stories. “I leave that to the younger guys.”
Sloan snorted, the uninhibited gesture pushing an extra puff of breath into the air. “Yeah, right.”
“Just because I choose to humor my grandmother doesn’t mean I have to actually be in the contest.”
“Play the tough guy all you want, Cou
nselor. I don’t think you’re quite as immune to all this as you say.”
“Oh, really?” Walker stepped closer, seized by the urge to reach out and touch her. He moved before he could question the impulse. “And what gave you that impression?”
“I think you like being an object of such intense attention. All those women fawning over you. You and your buddies, the eligible bachelor brigade, on display.”
Walker took the last few steps to close the gap between them. Despite the heavy layers of clothes—and the oversized coat she’d wrapped herself in—he could still smell her captivating scent. The rose notes that must be her shampoo filled his senses. “Why don’t you compete and find out?”
“You may not like what I write about you.”
“That’s a risk I’m prepared to take.”
“I refuse to be influenced by my subjects.”
Walker leaned down to press his lips against her ear as he settled his hands on her waist. “I can’t promise I won’t try to influence you.”
Her voice fell from her lips in a hushed whisper. “I wouldn’t be a very good reporter if I allowed myself to lose my objectivity.”
Sloan’s head fell back slightly, allowing him better access to her neck, and Walker reached up to lay his hands on either side of her throat. He shifted so his mouth hovered over hers, anticipation humming through his body with eager pulses that matched the beat of his heart. “You can remain as impartial during the competition as you’d like, Ms. McKinley. Just so long as you don’t remain impartial to this.”
With a tenderness that belied the crazy, raging need that gripped him, he pressed his mouth to hers and plundered.
Sloan had never felt blindsided by a kiss before. Excited, yes, even thrilled.
But gobsmacked?
Absolutely not.
The reaction of shock, adrenaline and pure, unadulterated feminine pleasure rocketed through her system as the firm press of his lips quickly gave way to the heated assault of his tongue.
The cold that had seeped into her bones from the moment she’d fled outside was rapidly replaced with a liquid heat that spread through her like a wild blaze and she knew—with absolute certainty—how the denizens of Alaska stayed warm.
As his mouth played over hers, she dimly registered the fact that her hands were hanging by her sides, so she lifted them to settle at his waist. His hips were solid, thick with muscle as her fingertips sought purchase under the fabric of his coat.
Glorious need filled her. It beat within her and matched the want she felt emanating from the solid planes of his body. Although some dim recess of her brain warned her this likely wasn’t the brightest idea she’d had in a long time, she couldn’t quite muster up the will to push him away. In fact . . .
Sloan’s grip tightened on his waist, pulling him closer as she tilted her head to allow him greater access to her mouth. He explored her with his tongue, their mingled breaths and sighs warming up the frigid night air.
A loud burst of laughter broke the sensual haze and Sloan pulled her head away as reality interrupted their stolen moment.
“Um. Yeah. Okay.”
Damn it, was she so desperate that a few good kisses could scramble her brain?
As her gaze returned to his lips, seductive in the light of the parking lot, Sloan couldn’t miss the satisfied smile that spread across his face. His dark eyes promised it wouldn’t be the last moment—stolen or otherwise—they’d share.
“Think about it, Sloan.”
Oh, she’d think about it, all right.
“I mean it. Think about the competition.”
“Of course.” Of course he meant the competition. “I’ll definitely give it some thought.”
“Come on. I’ll walk you back inside.”
Sloan glanced down and realized she was wearing someone’s coat. And from the increasingly loud sounds coming from the direction of the parking lot, the townsfolk had clearly had enough of her hospitality.
“Walker! Washa ya doin’ over there?” a man she’d only heard called Bear hollered from across the parking lot.
Okay, Sloan amended her first notion. Avery likely shut down the bar, hence the departing guests.
“I’m just seeing Ms. Sloan back inside, Bear.”
“Youz sure thaz all?” As several people near Bear let out a loud burst of laughter, Sloan realized these last few moments with Walker likely weren’t nearly as private as she’d thought.
Walker’s hand settled low on her back, the insistent pressure her cue to walk toward the side door she’d escaped out of only minutes before. “I was just giving Ms. Sloan a tour of our evening sky. Alaska’s too pretty not to share it with the tourists.”
“Thaz for sure.” Bear nodded good-naturedly.
“You be careful getting home. All of you,” Walker hollered from behind her as he pushed her through the door.
Suddenly nervous, Sloan wasn’t sure how to handle the attack of nerves that began dive-bombing her stomach. “No one misses much up here, I guess.”
“I think it has less to do with up here and more to do with the fact that Indigo is a small town.”
Sloan thought of her own relatively small town and the individuals who fought for dominance there. “Too true. There are no secrets in small towns.”
Dark eyes narrowing, Walker’s voice was a husky mix of desire and—annoyance? “Are you interested in keeping this a secret, Sloan?”
“It was just a kiss.” Was it? Even as the casual response left her mouth, she was regretting the words.
“Of course. Here you are. And there’s Skate Mac-Intyre.” Walker pointed in the direction of a big guy looking determinedly through the now dwindling pile of coats in the corner of the lobby. “He probably wants his coat back.”
Did no one in this town have a real name?
Before she could ask or say anything else, Walker had moved away to help his grandmother with her coat.
Shrugging quickly out of the oversized wool, she offered a small smile to the man standing there with an expectant smile. “Skate?” At his nod, she continued. “Sorry about that. I ran outside for something and realized I should probably layer. I just grabbed the nearest one I could find.”
“No problem, ma’am.” Skate nodded his head, a dark red flush creeping up his neck even as he smiled broadly. “You warmed it up for me.”
She glanced down at the coat in her hands, thrusting it at him as if it had suddenly turned into a snake. “Oh. Sorry.”
His large bear-sized hand closed over the collar of the coat, his fingers just brushing hers. “I’m not.”
“I hope you enjoyed this evening.”
Before he could say anything, she excused herself and crossed the room toward where Grier stood at the bar with Avery.
“Someone’s quickly making an impression.” Avery smiled as she handed a bill across the bar.
“What?” Sloan clamped down on the impulse to screech when she saw the total on the bill.
“The town’s bachelors certainly seem taken with you. Skate’s notoriously shy, but there he was, talking you up.” As if reading her mind, Avery added, “And while the Indigo Blue appreciates your patronage, I figured you’d like me to call it quits after the bill hit a grand. Otherwise a few more might have gotten up the courage this evening.”
“The bill’s for almost fifteen hundred.”
Avery smiled broadly. “I said I figured you’d like me to quit after a grand. Then I called last call and everyone got busy. I did throw in a few freebies, I’ll have you know. Susan won’t mind a few free bottles of wine in exchange for a bar tab like this one. Oh, and gratuity’s included.”
“How thoughtful,” Sloan said drily as she reached for the pen Avery had laid beside the bill. On a small mumble, she added, “Besides, I only had his coat.”
“What’d you have of Walker Montgomery’s?” Grier added in a slightly tipsy voice.
“G!” Sloan whirled on her friend, midsignature on the bill.
&nbs
p; “It’s a fair question.” Avery made a good show of collecting glasses off the bar, but Sloan didn’t miss the broad smile that lit up her face.
“More than fair.” Grier waved a hand as she reached for a bottle of water. “I saw your face when you walked back in that door over there. Fess up. The man charmed your panties off, didn’t he?”
“Grier!”
Avery held up a hand and Grier smacked it with the age-old high-five motion. “Told you.”
“Do not tell me you two were betting on this.”
“’Course not,” Avery added. “I don’t take bets I’m sure to lose and that absolutely would be one. But I can tell you that man is fuckalicious and he’s got his eye on you.”
“What have the two of you been up to in here?” Sloan wanted to be angry, but she couldn’t seem to conjure the proper emotion as she took in the matched looks of merriment on both women’s faces.
It was funny, she mused, how easy it was to laugh with both of them. “And tell me how I can possibly go from having you stare daggers through me mere hours ago to telling you deep, dark secrets?”
Avery shrugged. “I’m irresistible.”
Sloan laughed and took a seat. Before she could say anything, Grier interrupted around another swig of water. “Seriously, though, Avery. I feel like I’ve known you forever. It’s nice.”
“It is,” Avery agreed. “Speaking of nice—I want details.”
Avery’s dark gaze caught the overhead lights of the bar, reminding Sloan they were still sitting in a recently full room. With a quick glance around—and to ensure they had privacy—she leaned forward. “He kissed me. Well, after he challenged me. Then he kissed me.”
“Whoa, whoa.” Grier waved a hand, her water bottle now empty. “I think this calls for more wine. I finished my water like a good girl and this is too juicy for another bottle of H-two-O.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Avery was already reaching under the bar for a bottle when the label caught Sloan’s attention. “You’ve got Mouton-Rothschild?”
“Holy shit!” Grier leaned forward. “I’ve never had that before.”
“Me either,” Sloan admitted, even as she watched Avery expertly uncork the bottle.
