My brows lift. “Bathing suits? Thought we were going to a cabin.”
“It has a hot tub.”
I don’t remember that from the invite.
I do own a swimsuit. Something I bought on sale, probably wedged deep in my drawer from the last time I had a vacation. If memory serves, it’s a black bikini, which makes the beautiful ink I’ve been acquiring for the last six years pop.
But it never occurred to me I’d be swimming when I was tossing clothes in a bag for two days of glorified winter camping.
“We’re going to get up there and find a line of Kodashians, aren’t we?” Brooke’s saying.
“No way. The guys kept it under wraps.”
“Did you see photos?”
Nova shakes her head. “Ryan was close-lipped about it. Barely gave me the coordinates for the GPS. Even Miles couldn’t get anything out of him.”
Brooke’s fiancé is friends with everyone on the team, a guy’s guy, so if he couldn’t get any info, no one can.
“I wonder what they’ve been up to given they’ve been there all day,” I muse.
“Probably sitting around waiting for us,” Brooke decides.
The road is full of holiday travelers even before we have to slow for Vail Pass. This section of highway can turn from beautiful to treacherous in an instant.
After navigating the last of the roads, Brooke turns the Volvo onto a driveway. “I thought we were going to Beaver Creek?” She peers towards the line of evergreens hiding the property.
We head up the driveway, passing into a clearing that reveals a cute cabin with a row of cars in front.
“We’re in the right place.” I nod toward a Range Rover. “Isn’t that Miles’s car?”
“And Ryan’s,” Brooke adds, her voice lifting with excitement.
My friend pulls up her Volvo next to the other cars. It’s like a luxury car lot. The row of vehicles probably costs more than the house I was raised in.
“Are you excited?” Nova asks, beaming.
“Um, yes. So excited.” To be honest, I’m still not sure why I’m here except that I’ve gotten to know the team, their families, and their significant others while hanging out with them at the bar.
I’m looking forward to a couple days of decompressing, but I hope this isn’t the kind of weekend that makes me realize how different I am from all these people.
The car rolls to a soft stop, and I shift out into a foot of snow. Nova squeaks as it invades the tops of her Ugg boots as she runs around to the trunk.
The front door of the cabin swings wide, and a little tan Frenchie bounds out.
“Waffles!” The dog launches himself into Brooke’s arms, and she catches him in a way that suggests she does it often. “Hi, handsome,” she coos.
“Hi, Princess.”
We all look up to find Miles Garrett filling the doorway, his broad smile far from the only million-dollar part of him. The Kodiaks guard is a crowd favorite for his shooting, not to mention that scores of women would kill to have him look at them the way he’s looking at Brooke right now.
“I was talking to the dog.” She straightens, the Frenchie peeking out from where he’s snuggled inside her poofy orange parka.
“Sure you were.” Miles doesn’t seem perturbed as he reaches for her waist to tug her toward him, tipping her face up so he can drop a long kiss on her lips.
Cute.
Not that I’m looking for a relationship, but their vibe is undeniably adorable. Even for this cynic.
