by Jewel E. Ann
“Where are your friends? They’re missing out on hot buns.”
“They needed some alone time.” I smirked. “So I ventured out. I’m Evelyn, by the way.”
“Ronin,” he said just before taking another sip of his coffee. Large hands. He had to be tall.
I had a thing for tall guys with slight accents who knew how to read.
“Do you live here?” I stirred my tea with the wide stainless-steel straw.
“Just for one more day. I’ve accepted a job … in Aspen.”
“Shut up.” I narrowed my eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
“Ski patrol.”
“Really?” I cut another bite of the bun with my fork and knife. It would have been easier to pick it up and eat it with my hands, but … handsome stranger. “I live in Aspen.”
“Small world.”
I tilted my head, searching for warning signs—a flicker of danger in his eyes or the twitch of a wolfish grin. My love of horror movies seeped into my real life, distorting my judgment and imparting irrational fear into random thoughts.
“So what do you do in Aspen?” he asked with a slight accent. French? I couldn’t tell, but I wanted him to keep talking, even if he was a stalker.
“I sell guns. And own them. A lot of them. And I’m a really good shot.” See? Who says that? Me, horror movie lover … as I imagined his face covered in paint like The Joker or Pennywise.
Both of his eyebrows arched. “Okay. I didn’t see that coming.”
I chewed a bite of the bun, studying him. He didn’t look like a serial killer. Wasn’t that the most common sign of one? Since killers didn’t have a look, the most notorious ones were typically normal looking—sometimes even good looking. They excelled at disarming unsuspecting women.
“I’m not a gun person, so I don’t know any intelligent questions to ask about your job. Except maybe … how did you get into guns?”
I scratched my cheek and grinned with a wrinkled nose. “I don’t sell guns. I’m just testing stranger danger. Do you like clowns?”
A pleasant grin slid up his face. “Clowns are fine. I suppose.” He chuckled.
Wrong answer. But everyone was entitled to their opinion.
“I own a bath and body shop. I make all of my own products. I’m a chemist who really wanted to be an artist. So, this combines both worlds.”
“But do you own a gun?”
My lips twisted, and my eyes narrowed. “It’s Colorado. The probability of me owning a gun is high. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Fair enough.”
I didn’t own a gun. Never had. Wouldn’t have had the first clue how to use one.
“So … ski patrol?”
“Yes. It’s what I’ve been doing for years.” Definitely a French accent. What was it with guys and accents?
“Your accent …” I tapped my finger against my bottom lip.
He took a sip of his coffee. “My father is from Chamonix, France. My mother’s family is from Malaysia, but she was born in the United States, as was I. We moved to France when I was one, and that’s where I grew up. My father is … was an Olympic skier.”
I blinked several times, pausing my straw at my lips. “Wow! I’m utterly boring compared to you. Bet you’re glad your coffee’s almost gone, so you can go hang out with more worldly people.”
Ronin chuckled—deep and smooth. “You make soap. Tell me more.”
“You don’t have to sound interested. We can talk about the weather. I hear rain is expected over the next few days.”
He drummed his fingers on the table. “Bar soap? Liquid soap?”
I stole another bite of the warm bun, chewing while trying to hide my grin, gazing out the window at the traffic crawling along the street. “Both. And bath bombs, scrubs, lip balms, facial creams, and toners …” I blotted my mouth with my napkin. “It’s really an endless list.”
“Fascinating.”
I coughed a little laugh. “It’s really not.”
“No?” He ran a hand through his hair and scratched his neck. It tightened his shirt a bit more across his chest. “I find it all very intriguing.”
Ronin possessed a special charm and way above average looks. Okay … he was flat-out sexy. The heat in my cheeks probably made my thoughts all too transparent.
“To me,” I conceded, “it is interesting and fun. I genuinely like my job. I’m not sure my parents imagined my degree leading to my owning a bath shop, but they’re happy that I’m happy.”
“I can relate. My father imagined me chasing his gold medals in skiing. I loved watching him ski. And I, too, love skiing. However, I was always more fascinated with the men and women who brought injured skiers down the mountain than the exuberant victors crossing the finishing line in record time. The only clock that interested me was the one that meant saving a life. That’s what I do now. I’ve worked in several countries as ski patrol. And I’ve spent many summers working as a paramedic with fire and EMS.”
Hot buns. Yummy bubble tea. Sunny and fifty-five degrees in beautiful Vancouver. And an Asian Frenchman who liked saving lives. Short of Graham giving Lila a dozen orgasms … there’s no way Lila’s day beat mine.
“I don’t suppose you’ll marry me, will you?” My mouth twisted into a smirk before I laughed—a hearty laugh so he saw my humor, my joking personality (I was ninety percent joking).
“Probably.” He shrugged one shoulder.
Dead.
In that moment, I died.
He did not just say that, did he? I was joking. Yes, he was joking too. That meant we were two strangers who found joking about marriage completely acceptable. That had to be a small percent of the population. Less than two percent?
We exchanged looks that neither of us could hold for more than a few seconds without averting our gazes.
What was that?
What the hell just happened?
“So …” I stood on my wobbly legs. “I should get back to the hotel. Thanks for sharing your table with me.”
Ronin unfolded his body from the chair, proving my theory—he was tall. The whole damn package.
“It was nice meeting you, Evelyn.” Ronin glanced at his phone and slipped it back into the pocket of his wool jacket. Then he grabbed his book and opened the door for me.
“Thank you.” I slid past him, accidentally—or not so accidentally—brushing against him. “What did you do here?” I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Nor did I want to sound desperate, but I was sure the hypothetical marriage proposal already blew my cover.
“Which way?” He jerked his chin toward the right.
I pointed to the left, the direction of my hotel.
“Ski patrol in Whistler. I fly out of Vancouver tomorrow for Denver.”
We strolled down the sidewalk, hands in the pockets of our jackets, taking our time. I craved all the seconds I could get with my new friend. At the stoplight, I frowned at my threadbare leggings and pilled, black sweater jacket.
Five years of scuff marks painted my charcoal boots.
No makeup.
Also, as Graham so kindly pointed out, my hair was not shampoo-commercial worthy.
Ronin didn’t seem to care—after all, he could’ve made up any excuse to hop in a cab or walk in the opposite direction, yet he didn’t.
“What does your father do now?” I asked.
“He’s retired, so he travels a lot with my mom. She’s a designer and owns a clothing line. It’s a small line with a limited market, but she’s doing exactly what she loves. Her best friend is her business partner, so it affords her time to travel with my dad. I can’t keep up with them. I think they’re in Kuala Lumpur right now, but I’m not entirely sure.” He chuckled. “Do you live close to your family?”
“Yes. My parents live in Denver. My sister and her husband live in San Francisco, close to my dad’s parents. And my grandma, my mom’s mom, moved into an assisted living facility six months ago in Aurora. I moved out of my apartment last month and into
her home, an actual log cabin in Aspen. My grandfather built it. I’m sure it could be worth a lot of money, but my grandma wants me to live there. It’s important to her to see it stay in the family.”
Ronin bobbed his head several times. “I like that. It seems like our generation doesn’t really value things like log cabins built by grandparents. I heard the value of a lot of antiques has gone down because we just don’t value them like generations before ours.”
“I can see that, and it is sad.” I pointed to the entrance of Porter Suites.
We stopped under the awning.
“Nice hotel.” His eyebrows lifted a fraction.
“My best girlfriend is marrying my best guy friend. He’s a Porter—I thought the most sensible one of the bunch, but now he’s talking craziness about getting into politics. I’m not sure he’ll keep a level head if that happens. But … I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’s just a great guy—albeit a really rich guy—who wants to be a public servant.” I shrugged, slipping my hands back into the pockets of my jacket while blowing hair out of my mouth.
“Graham Porter.”
I twisted my lips, nose wrinkled. “How did you know?”
“No …” Ronin jerked his chin, gesturing over my shoulder. “I mean he’s coming out of the hotel.”
My head whipped around as the lovers emerged from the door held open by the doorman.
It wasn’t surprising Ronin recognized Graham and his fastidious, tabloid-worthy appearance.
“We’re going shopping. Coming, Evie?” Lila held out her hand to me, but then she stopped, letting it fall to her side as her gaze snagged on my tall, new friend. “Hello …” She smiled, showing me a quick where-are-your-manners look.
“Ronin, this is my friend Lila and her fiancé, Graham. This is Ronin. We just met over buns and bubble tea.”
Lila chuckled, reaching for Ronin’s proffered hand. “Buns and bubble tea. We’ll chat about that later, Evie. Nice to meet you, Ronin.”
“You too.” He flashed her a warm smile.
“Hi. Nice to meet you.” Graham shook Ronin’s hand too.
I waited for Graham to make some snide remark about me, just to embarrass me, but he didn’t. Grammy Graham earned extra points for being on his best behavior. Maybe his leap into politics had already matured him. He was thirty-six going on fifty.
“You should invite Ronin to dinner.” Lila looped her arm around Graham’s arm.
Ha!
There was a wedding proposal and a bit of hardcore swooning on my part, but dinner with my friends felt exponentially more intimidating than a hypothetical wedding proposal.
“Um …” I glanced up at Ronin.
“Sounds good to me.”
Lila excelled at making me think I couldn’t find dates without her expert help. She was my pimp. Just when I thought I’d found a guy all on my own, she swooped in and arranged a date. Had I not been so elated, I might have been pissed off at her.
“Me too.” I smiled at Ronin.
“Great!” Lila tipped her chin up, her grin beaming with pride.
Yeah, yeah … you’re an awesome best friend.
“What time, babe?” She tugged on Graham’s arm to get his attention.
“Six.” He glanced at his watch.
“Where?” Ronin asked.
Lila gestured toward the hotel. “The steakhouse in the hotel. Graham says it’s phenomenal.”
“I’ll be back around six.” Ronin winked at me. “Have fun shopping.”
My eyes widened, smile embarrassingly too exuberant, as I held my breath to keep from squealing like a seventeen-year-old girl who just got asked to prom by the hottest guy in school.
“See you soon!” Lila waved as Ronin stepped to the curb and slid into the back of a taxi. “Breathe! Oh my god … breathe, Evie.” She pressed her hands to my face, eyes wide with excitement for me.
“Are we shopping, ladies? If not, I have business I can do.” Graham waited at the back of the black SUV with a driver holding open the door.
“Shopping, babe.” Lila took my hand and pulled me into the back of the vehicle.
Graham rolled his eyes at me as I bit back my smile.
CHAPTER TWO
“Whoa, Evie! You are hot!” Lila flipped her champagne blond hair over her bare shoulder, looking rather hot herself in a simple black cocktail dress.
Graham was … Graham. Always in an expensive, tailored suit and freshly gelled hair. That night he chose a basic black suit. What was wrong with the one he had on earlier?
“It’s not too much?” I wrinkled my nose.
“Yes. It’s too much.” Graham smirked. “I spent way too much money on it.”
“I didn’t ask you to buy it. You just like to throw around your money so the world feels indebted to you. I’m going to give the dress to Lila after tonight, so you’ll have one less thing to hold over my head.” I sashayed to the elevator, brushing my hands over my rhubarb V-neck wrap dress with kimono sleeves. The flowing material softened my teenage-boy figure. As we stepped onto the elevator, Graham eyed my hair.
Asshole.
“I feel like the bird’s nest is no longer the trend. Am I wrong?” He cocked his head to the side.
Lila elbowed him in the ribs. “It’s a messy bun, and it always looks good on Evie.”
Once.
I had sex with Graham once in the two weeks we dated—if you could call it dating. We were under the heavy influence of alcohol. Lila knew. Hell, I called her the second I left his apartment on campus. She responded with, “Eww … come home and shower right away.”
The flowers, jewelry, stolen poetry … all led up to a night of passionless sex. It felt like having sex with my best friend, and that felt wrong. We crossed a line because I had a vagina and he had a penis. Just because you can … doesn’t mean you should. Wise words I learned a little too late.
Many years separated us from that epic mistake. I knew he loved my best friend, and they had a strong physical chemistry. Still … Graham gave me the I’ve-seen-you-naked look like it was something to lord over me. Yes, he’d seen the goods. That didn’t give him the right to judge them for the rest of our lives.
“Oh my god! There he is,” Lila whispered when the elevator doors opened to the lobby just as Ronin strutted with jaw-dropping swagger toward the steakhouse.
“Oh my god? Clearly, I didn’t fuck you hard enough earlier,” Graham grumbled.
I grinned, biting my tongue. Fine. Graham had seen my goods, but his fiancée drooled over the goods of my date. That magically made up for the visions in Graham’s head that I would never be able to erase.
“Whoa …” Ronin stopped on a second glance in our direction. His head jerked back as an appreciative smile slid up his chiseled face. I felt a twinge of disappointment that he unknowingly submitted to Graham’s starchy dress code for the night by wearing a blue suit. However, his red tie damn near matched my dress and that thrilled me.
Don’t get me wrong; he was hot as fuck, just like the look he gave me as we stepped off the elevator.
“Evelyn…” his gaze swept along my entire body, more than once “…you look incredible.” He held out his hand to take mine.
Okay … this is happening.
Seven hours earlier, I had met this stranger who looked like he had just stepped off an international modeling stage, and in a blink of time, he wore a suit and a grin that dirtied my thoughts.
Graham offered Lila his arm like she was lucky to be on it, also, so he could use his hands for texting. “Good to see you again.” My starchy Graham Cracker nodded at Ronin just before leading us to the restaurant. He earned more points for treating my date with a lot more respect than he gave me most days.
I received points because Lila was so enamored with my date that she couldn’t even articulate a greeting beyond a dreamy smile and some drool.
Okay, not really, but I knew that look. It was usually the one she gave Graham. Lila glanced over her shoulder at us,
gaze flicking to our clasped hands. It made my cheeks burn. Lila grinned at me. That made them burn even more. She knew me too well, so of course she knew I was seconds away from sweating through that dress, even with the chill in the hotel lobby.
The night turned into a dream. The four of us just … clicked. Come to find out, Ronin was a part-time model for five years in France. He even modeled a men’s clothing line designed by Graham’s aunt, who probably knew Ronin’s mom.
Perfection stole the night.
Expensive wine.
Course after course of the best food.
Laughter.
Engaging conversation.
It was quite possibly the most fun I’d ever had.
As people packed into the restaurant, it became harder to hear, even though we were contributing to the noise as much if not more than anyone else. Ronin occasionally leaned toward me to hear my words. When he did, he rested his hand on my leg … the part of my leg exposed from the slit in my dress. Maybe it was the wine, but every time that hand rested on my leg, it felt a fraction of an inch higher with a tighter grip.
“I need the ladies’ room.” Lila set her napkin on the table.
“Me too.” I scooted back in my chair.
Ronin stood and Graham quickly followed suit.
Holy. Shit.
Lila and I shared a quick look.
Our dates stood for women. Talk about good upbringing …
Honestly, I’m not sure Graham would have stood had Ronin not initiated it.
I smiled up at Ronin through my wine-glossed eyes, feeling a bit wobbly on my heavy legs.
“Got it?” Amusement lit up his face as he steadied me with his hand on my lower back. That sexy grin disintegrated my already thin and delicate panties.
“Mm-hmm.” My teeth trapped my lower lip to hold in my giggle. I might have been a little tipsy. A lot horny. And hot. Hours of his hand making a return trip to my leg raised my body temperature to roughly the sun’s surface.
“I’ve got her.” Lila hooked her arm around mine. She wasn’t in any better shape, but we hoped that two half-drunk women could make it to the ladies’ room with the grace of one sober woman.
