Relationships are tricky for me. Most of my time is spent at the bar, but the people I encounter at work don’t really see me, they just see one version of me.
There aren’t enough hours to date after work. Even if there were, my idea of a good time does not involve getting dressed up to bat my eyes at some guy who wants to know if I can tie a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue.
Or worse, one who wants to beat me over the head with his Ivy League education and ask questions about what I want to be “after I get bored bartending.” Guys either think bartending is hot and wild or some pit stop on a more acceptable career path. I don’t feel inclined to explain why they’re both wrong.
We head inside and find the rest of the crew.
Clay, Nova’s husband, is a basketball legend. He’s huge, with the kind of presence that commands attention even without the tattoos covering every part of him.
Atlas is from Latvia. He’s the tallest and seems like the quietest until he speaks with his booming voice.
The champion Denver Kodiaks come through Mile High twice a week when they’re in town. I should be immune to the room full of extra-tall, objectively gorgeous male specimens.
I am immune, I decide as I take a breath.
The hairs on the back of my neck lift an instant before a cocky voice murmurs behind me, “You missing someone?”
I spin, tripping on my bag and dropping it on my toes.
The man standing behind me fills the entire doorway.
Well over six feet of athlete’s body, honed in the gym and on the court. He’s wearing a Henley, sweatpants, and a Santa hat and holding armfuls of wood.
The hat covers his dark hair, but his sparkling eyes are on full display.
He’s ridiculously handsome, with a straight nose and full lips, even teeth and a strong jaw. The shoulders and flexed arms effortlessly hold enough logs to build a second cabin.
He smells like campfire, as though he’s come from one rather than about to start one.
I’m sure it’s the cold wind blowing in from the open doorway that makes the hairs on my arms lift, not his sheer sexiness.
A shiver runs through me, making my body tingle in a way that has nothing to do with the Christmas spirit.
He’s way too cheerful.
Too cocky.
Too renewed-his-contract-and-looking-for-a-good-time.
If I was trying to remember why tagging along on a winter wonderland escape with the world champion Denver Kodiaks was a bad idea?
It’s because the last time I spent the night alone with one of them, we were both naked.
2
RYAN
“That’s gotta be enough.” Jay surveys the pile of logs in my arms as we get firewood from the stack behind the cabin.
“Never. Keep going.” I adjust my stance to better distribute the half dozen pieces I’m holding.
Jay loads me up with another couple of pieces. “So much for a couple days off lifting in the gym.”
“You’re not lifting shit.” My abs flex under the weight.
He brushes off his mittens. “We’re here for two days. We really going to burn all this?”
“And more,” I promise.
