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They were staring at me.
“Hon, you’ve had too much to drink,” Suzanne said, patting my hand. “It’s okay. Let the hot neighbor come drag your drunk ass home.”
“You mean hot ass,” someone else mumbled.
“He does have a hot ass,” I sighed. Okay, I may have swooned. But it was still grade-A truth.
“None of us are gonna argue with that,” Becky said, tapping into her phone. “Nadia here has had her eye on that man for two years.”
I swiveled my eyes to the exotic beauty before me. Nadia had said earlier she was from Peru. She was tall and slender with long, thick dark hair that had that beach wave look I knew was deceptive. Shit took hours to accomplish.
“Go for it. He’s all yours,” I mumbled into my empty shot glass. I’d been licking the remnants out of it ever since the girls had cut me off. “All the good ones are straight anyway. I give up.”
“It’s too bad Russ isn’t around,” Becky said. “He would have been a nice little bed warmer for you up there on the mountain. Talk about a hot ass…”
“Oh, I’m driving his big stick,” I said. “Hate that fuckin’ thing. It’s orange. Orange is so last season.”
The entire table cracked up.
“Any other gay men around?” I asked. “You know, in case I need the warm bed thing later this winter?”
“Plenty. What’s your type? Who do you like?” Becky asked with a twinkle in her eye. “We’ll fix you up, Ozzie.”
“Big. Muscles–but not the gym kind, the outside kind. Kinda moody. Stormy gray eyes,” I said, trying to think of what else. “A fuckin’ liar. Those are my type. The kind who keep secrets. Like Cocci Borroni. Fuckin’ liar. That asshole stole my designs and put them out as his own, did I tell you? Wait. What? No. The kind of guy I want or the kind of guy I usually go for? Oh, right. The kind I’m looking for. You know… the usual shit we all want. Someone to keep me safe, laugh at my jokes, love my dog, support my dreams. Someone who sees the real me and thinks that guy’s okay.”
I looked around at several pairs of wide eyes; one or two might have even been damp. I’d brought the mood way down so I shrugged and grinned.
“Fuck. And if he has a big dick, that’s a bonus, right? I bet Jake’s got a little one,” I added just because I could. “He might act like a big dick, but that doesn’t mean—”
At that exact moment a throat was cleared from somewhere behind me.
Please don’t be him. Please don’t be him.
I even clicked my new Sorel Caribou snow boots together three times as I turned, but ironically, my wizard wasn’t listening because not two feet behind me stood Jake, stormy eyes and all.
That was the problem with wearing shitty shoes.
Chapter 6
Jake
The text from Becky had just said I needed to come get Oz and drive him home.
Which hadn’t made sense since I’d seen his car in the cabin’s driveway before I’d left to make a quick run into town to finish up a grant proposal document I’d been working on at the clinic. But when I’d told Becky as much via text, she hadn’t answered, so I left the clinic to head to the tavern. The coldest air so far this winter had started to settle over Haven, and I figured whoever had driven Oz to town most likely didn’t want to brave the steep and curvy roads in the dark, especially with the temperature dropping as quickly as it was.
When I got to Mustache’s Tavern, I nodded to Wade behind the bar and spotted Becky’s table right away. The laughing coming from the group of women was enough to bring a smile to even my face. Clearly, they were having a great time.
And there sat my gorgeous neighbor right in the middle, holding court.
His head was tilted back, exposing a long expanse of creamy skin on his throat that begged for nibbles. His eyes were closed in thought as he said something that made all the women swoon. I noticed his fist clenched around a small shot glass and wondered how many of those he’d had. The reason he needed a ride home made much more sense now.
Even drunk off his ass, Oz was stunning, and it made my stomach tighten with desire. The feeling was becoming familiar to me, as was the accompanying lecture I had to give myself to stay away.
As I approached the group, I heard Becky say, “Plenty. What’s your type? Who do you like? We’ll fix you up, Ozzie.”
“Big. Muscles–but not the gym kind, the outside kind. Kinda moody. Stormy gray eyes.”
I came to a stop just behind and off to the left of Oz at that precise moment and saw the other ladies straighten when they saw me. Even though I had a good view of Oz from the side, he was oblivious as he carried on with his rant.
