“Wow. There’s a sight,” Neve whispered.
Above them rose the soaring mountains that framed the valley’s box canyon, snow blanketing the rust-colored peaks, aspen forests devoid of leaves, gleaming like bone. A frozen waterfall hung suspended off a cliff. Maybe, just maybe, an avalanche would trigger right now and extinguish this mad hope.
“Another mistake. There were supposed to be two beds,” he said stiffly before she could accuse him of masterminding a hookup. It had been a while, but he’d never press his advantage.
“I’m not great at math but...”
“Shit.” His mouth dried at her teasing tone and he spun around, defensively raking a hand through his hair. “I feel like I brought you into a mess. First the shared room, now... this...” He waved his hand at the thick mattress that looked capable of handling the urgent thrusts of even the longest dry spell.
She didn’t look over. Frown lines bracketed her mouth as she reached out and touched the comforter as if it were dangerous. “Well, I’ll tell you what. After that drive, we need a drink and a nap.”
“I never nap.”
“Neither do I.” She shrugged off his glare. “But you just drove seven hours. And I spent six of them feeling fifty shades of warmed-over death. So I don’t want to stress over Bedgate. I do want to pop open that minibar, treat myself to a stiff drink and pass out until I wake up feeling vaguely human.”
“A plan that I can get behind. Two highballs coming right up.” He leapt into action and opened the fridge, peering inside. “Vodka. Check. Ginger ale. Check. We can pretend it’s a Moscow Mule.”
“It could be a Moscow Donkey Surprise and I’d be perfectly content.”
“You’re on.” It was exactly what he needed, a task. There were two tumblers on the desk. “I’ll show you a trick I learned on the road. Hold on a second.” After scooping them up, he went into the hallway, filled them with ice cubes from the closest machine and came back in. Neve sat on the edge of the bed, legs dangling, feet not quite touching the ground.
Her smallness intrigued him. It would be so easy to toss her against those goose-down-stuffed pillows, open her up and let her ankles dig into his shoulders while he drove in hard.
The easiest and hardest thing in the world.
The image of her perfect breasts arching up to meet his hungry mouth redirected a wave of blood to his cock. Before she could notice his hard-on, he strode into the bathroom, seeking out two smaller drinking glasses to finish the task at hand.Focus.
“You’ve got me all curious with this fancy-schmancy prep,” Neve announced as he came back.
“Nothing but the best for you.”
She mashed her lips, gaze riveted to his face. “Who are you and what happened to Tor Gunnar?”
“What do you mean?”
“If I looked upcharmingin the dictionary right now, your face might be staring back. I’m getting a glimmer of Rovhal30 with the daily jokes. Which were corny as a Kansas farmer, by the way.” A beat. “And I meant that as a compliment.”
He dropped his chin and poured the ginger ale into the vodka, trying not to fizz everywhere. Even though he had a hundred reasons not to smile, she gave him one.
When he placed the smaller glasses on top of the large tumblers, Neve gasped.
“Poor man’s cocktail shaker,” he confirmed. “Necessity is the mother of invention. And I’m on the road enough that I had to get creative.”
“You must miss it, right?” she asked as he mixed their drinks. “Your job? The games? The players? That road? The last two weeks must have felt strange. To put so much buildup and preparation in for a season, get started and... poof.”
“I miss it every second of every day,” he admitted, but didn’t let on the whole truth. He loved his job. He made no apologies for the fact that his work was his life. His passion. But whereas the lockout should be an exercise in torture, it hadn’t been as bad as he’d expected. He’d had a distraction.Her.“Try this.” He cleared his throat and passed her the glass.
“Yup. This’ll do nicely—delicious,” she said after a small sip, kicking off her snow boots to reveal a pair of brightly colored socks.
Socks that were...
“Yeah baby, feast your eyes.” She noticed his gawking and smirked. “Rainbow-shitting unicorns.”
“On your feet,” he deadpanned.
“Socks are one of my weaknesses.” She clicked her heels. “These happen to be my favorite pair.”
He took a long swallow of his own drink, shoulders dropping. “I don’t know what to say about that.”
