Without turning around, I start to walk but I only get a few steps away.
“And, Chloe?”
I can’t help but tremble a little at the way he says my name. I pull in a sharp breath and turn to face him.
“Hopefully the skies will be clear tomorrow and then I’ll take you for that snowshoe myself.”
There is literally nothing I can say to that. Not unless I want to lose the little composure that I have. So instead, I do my best to smile and go find my room.
Ryder
Who the hell wasthat?
I watch Chloe Sullivan walk away from me, and it takes everything in my power not to leap over the reception desk and chase her across the floor of the lobby, toss her over my shoulder, take her up to the room I keep in the lodge and make her mine.
It’s what I want to do.
Hell, it’s what every single cell in my entire body istellingme to do. But I can’t. I promised I wouldn’t mess around with the reporter who’s writing the article that could potentially securethe reservations for the rest of the winter and into the spring for the lodge. And Chloe Sullivan is that reporter.
More than that—and the reason I should be scared as hell—she makes me feel things. Things I’ve never felt before. And that’s insane, because I just barely met her. And like I told my brothers, she’s not my type.
She’s young and obviously inexperienced. Plus, she’s a city girl.
If I’m ever going to settle down and only think about one woman, it sure as hell won’t be with a city girl.
City girls are fun to mess around with. Perfect for a one-night stand. Which is the only thing I’ve ever wanted.
Until now.
Damn. That thought came out of nowhere, and I know it’s only because of the conversation I had with Briggs earlier that it even popped in my head at all.
Still.
There’s something about her.
I wait until she disappears up the main stairs of the lodge to her room, feeling like an ass the entire time for not helping her with her one small duffel bag before I focus my attention on something, anything that will take my mind off Chloe, alone in her room.
Chloe
The room is gorgeous.If it really is the best room in the lodge, I can see why.
The king-sized bed frame is made of timber and the bed itself has the softest, plushiest blankets and pillows I’ve seen in a long time. It’s so inviting that I almost dive right into the blankets and settle in with my laptop to start writing. But the claw-foot bathtub in the bathroom also grabs my attention.
Visions of a decadent bubble bath while I sip a glass of wine fill my head, too.
It all feels absolutely sinful and decadent.
And very, very appealing.
But I have a job to do. I need to focus.
The huge picture windows I have face out onto the mountain range beyond the lodge. Just as it always does, gazing at the mountains fills me with a sense of peace. It’s like coming home.
I may be a city girl now, but it’s not by choice.
I was born and raised, at least in my younger years, in mountains similar to these. In a town that was probably a lot like Rock Creek, from the little I saw of it as I drove through on my way to the lodge.
When my parents died, I was taken to the city as part of the foster care system. But the mountains still held a special place in my heart, and I longed for a life where I never had to leave.
