Chapter 13 Sierra
SIERRA
I had no idea Chloe could snore so loudly.
That’s why I can’t sleep. It’s the only reason—and has nothing to do with being that close to Ryan in the hot tub—that my mind is still spinning.
You haven’t found someone worth sticking around for.
He doesn’t know anything about me. I’m taking care of myself because the one time I let myself believe I could be with someone like him, it burned me.
He’s the one with women lining up around the block. Even in the wilderness, he can’t get away from being famous.
We hooked up once.
And we were going to hook up again until he started acting like he knew me and what was best for me.
Ryan only saw what I wanted him to see—like all of them do.
I shove off the covers and stomp for the door. I get to the hallway, where there’s no more snoring. It’s mercifully quiet.
Until there’s a scratching sound outside.
It’s the same noise we heard in the woods earlier.
Could be anything. A squirrel.
Too big for a squirrel.
Larger animals wouldn’t come around the cabin. There’s no food left out, and it’s winter anyway.
What if it’s an intruder?
I stiffen.
My phone is on the nightstand. I go back and grab it even though there’s barely any reception.
I silently pick my way down the stairs. The carpet is soft on my bare feet.
There’re no more fire implements by fireplace. Did the guys take them to their rooms?
The living room is dark, only low slanted moonlight coming from one high window.
I start for the kitchen, where there are lots of sharp objects, but before I get there, the tree calls to me. There’s a pointy star we never got around to putting up. I palm it.
The sounds start up again. I take a deep breath and start for the door. This energy needs to go somewhere.
The door—it’s not locked.
It swings open.
My mouth goes wide, and I inhale sharply, ready to scream, ready to bring the star down on the intruder.
I swipe as hard as I can.
The weapon connects with flesh, sinking in a little.
“Oof. Shit.” The intruder hisses.
That voice is familiar. Oh no…
“Ryan?!” I gasp.
“Easy, ninja.” He winces as he steps inside.
I can see his outline against the snow as my eyes adjust. “What were you doing out there?!”
“Securing the perimeter.”
“That’s a thing you heard on TV.”
He steps inside, and I shut the door, lock it, and hit the light switch closest to the door. He peels off his jacket, probing his chest with a hand.
“Did I get you?” I feel sick. I just attacked a member of the world champion Denver Kodiaks. My dad will kill me.
I’ll never live it down.
“You stabbed me with… the tree star. That’s festive.”
“You’re delusional. Come on.” I grab his arm and tug him toward the kitchen. I debate turning on more lights and opt for the little one over the sink by the window. “Take off your shirt.”
His brows lift, but he doesn’t say anything when I shoot him a dark look.
There’s an angry red scrape an inch long.
“Have you had a tetanus shot?”
“Yes, doctor.”
At least that’s something. “Don’t move.”
I go to the bathroom to grab first aid supplies. In my bag, there’s gauze, antiseptic, and liquid bandage.
“For a woman who claims not to care, you’re very prepared,” he comments when I return.
I rummage under the sink, only finding a clean dishcloth. That’ll have to do.
The blood comes off in a smear, replaced with more in a couple seconds. Dammit.
“Sit down.”
I grab a chair, and he sinks into it. That’s not better, because we’re practically at eye level now. I’m a little higher, and if I thought his face looked good from below, he’s even more handsome from this new angle.
Ryan’s lips are curved at the corner.
“Are you enjoying this?” I mutter.
“Being stabbed?”
Touché.
What if this doesn’t stop bleeding?
I pull out my phone. No reception. Dammit.
He shuffles his feet. “So, you can use a phone, just not to contact me.”
“What?”
I shove the phone back in my pocket in frustration. When I look up, he’s watching, amusement blurring with something else in his dark eyes.
“After we hooked up, I figured I’d get a call. A text. Hell, a single phrase in one of the dozen conversations we’ve had since.” His expression is surprisingly earnest and has me biting back whatever flippant comment is on the tip of my tongue.
“We had sex, Ryan. It was a one-night thing.” My voice is low, but it carries in the cabin. The darkness wraps around us, the soft light from over the sink casting a warm glow over his skin. “If I hook up with a Kodiak, it can only be one time. Nothing more.”
“Do you do that a lot?” There’s a wary edge to his voice. Still, he doesn’t seem insecure or judgmental, just as though he’s trying to understand.
His honesty is why I answer the same way.
“Not really.” I sigh. “Besides, I see you twice a week. I figured you would’ve said something.”
“I wanted to. But at Mile High, you always have a lot of guys hitting on you, and I didn’t want to come into your space and make you uncomfortable.”
His thoughtfulness sets me back. Not many people think of my wants first. It has me feeling grateful and strangely self-conscious.
“I’m sorry. It was good. Really good. But…” I set the washcloth on the counter and fold my arms. “I wasn’t looking to start something, and you definitely weren’t.”
He tilts his head. “How do you figure?”
The bleeding’s slowed. I focus on that as I turn away and shake the liquid bandage. I spray it on his skin, my other hand on his shoulder to steady him—or me.
“You’re a big deal. World champion. Everyone knows your face. You were in the middle of the season. You had some shit going on as a team.”
“I know what was going on for me, bartender. I meant you.”
I turn away and recap the liquid bandage. “The bar is everything to my dad, and the Kodiaks are everything to the bar. Getting into any kind of relationship with a player makes it messier.
“Once, I don’t regret it. Twice…” I lift a shoulder. “It could mess with the dynamics of the bar.”
“That’s what you’re worried about? The bar?”
“What else would I worry about?” Defensiveness creeps in.
“That someone could catch feelings and get hurt. That maybe it’d be you.”
He says it kindly, but I scoff anyway. “Unlikely.”
I go back to my work.
“It wouldn’t have been twice,” he offers after a minute.
“What?”
“With us.” He pauses. “It would’ve been a hell of a lot more than twice.”
My heart kicks.
He’s not saying he’s obsessed with me, but damn, it feels that way.
“Is that part of this lone wolf bullshit you claimed in the hot tub?” he asks. “Don’t pretend that’s not why you hightailed it out of there by the way.”
I feel myself stiffen on instinct. “You act like you know what women want or need. I get mansplained to every day. I don’t need it from you.”
“So, tell me.”
My mouth falls open.
“Unless it’s some point of pride that you don’t let anyone in. But it feels good to be known, Sierra. I play a team sport. You don’t win by being an island. You win by knowing and by being known.”
I sigh. “I guess when I’m around you, I’m reminded that we’re not the same. You’re flying private jets and signing swag, and I’m working long hours and arguing with my dad over a drinks list and new stools.”
“You fit in fine.”
“Do I?”
“Maybe you’re right. Doesn’t matter who’s around, I can’t seem to stop looking at you.” He lets that settle in for a moment. Then he says, “You were really going to protect the whole cabin from intruders?”
“Yes. I look out for my friends.” My lips twitch.
His eyes soften. “Go back to bed.”
“I was going to sleep on the couch.”
“Then I’ll look for some clean sheets.”
He starts upstairs, and I’m staring at his back as he recedes.
I have the weirdest feeling that I missed out on an opportunity.
We’re not the same, but we have a connection. When I listen to a customer at the bar, it’s genuine but has boundaries. This feels as though he’s listening because he wants to.
I’ve spent time with Kodiaks for years, but Ryan’s different. He’s funny and fun, and when he looks at me, it feels as though he’s seeing parts of me I haven’t agreed to show him but I don’t want to take back.
I want more. I shouldn’t, but I do.
A moment later, he reappears, crooking his finger.
“Did you find any?” I ask.
“Something even better.”
I follow him upstairs. Inside the linen closet is a ladder. He disappears up the ladder. I hesitate only a moment before following, curiosity getting the best of me.
My bare feet slip a little on the way up, but Ryan grabs my arm and pulls me up.
It’s dark until Ryan clicks a switch and the whole place lights up with fairy lights.
It’s a loft. A beautiful loft with a king bed.
“The listing said five bedrooms. I couldn’t find the last one,” he says.
The bed is even made up, with a fluffy gray duvet and at least ten pillows.
I have to bend at the waist so my head doesn’t hit the peaked A-frame roof, but it’s worth it. I pad across the room, the boards creaking softly, until I reach the window at the end. It’s round, like a porthole. Snow flurries drift across the glass, adding to the magic.
“It’s the best room in the cabin,” I whisper.
“It’s yours,” Ryan decides.
“No, I couldn’t.” I turn back to find him right behind me. He’s crouched to fit.
“Yes, you can. I’ll take the couch.”
“But who’ll protect the cabin?”
“Me. You’re off duty, Sheriff.”
I bite my cheek as I take in his stance. “This ceiling is a bit low for you.”
He’s close enough I can smell him, hear his low, steady breathing. “Or… the loft is mostly meant for being horizontal.”
My gaze drifts past his massive body to the perfect cozy bed.
Suddenly I’m imagining us there, the things we could do with an entire night. All the things we never got to do at the bar.
“It would have been a lot more than twice.” Ryan’s words come back to me.
“This place feels magical. It’s a different world,” I say.
“Different like a world where you’d text me back after we hooked up?”
I peer back out into the snowy darkness. Ryan kneels next to me.
“What would you tell me?” He’s playful but serious, his voice close to my ear.
“That it was hot,” I say, my body remembering. “That I liked being with you.”
“Liked the sex or the company?”
“Both,” I admit.
He inches closer. I feel him do it, as though he’s daring me to deny him.
I turn back to him, needing to see his face.
“I’m sorry I stabbed you.” My voice is a whisper.
Our faces are inches apart. “I’m not.”
He says it so matter-of-factly my mouth falls open.
“That’s a stupid thing to—”
His lips brush mine.
He’s warm and hard and smells like the pine trees outside, only better. His scent wraps around me. His mouth coaxes mine open, confident and persuasive.
My body lights up as if I’m a lock and he’s the key. Every inch of me throbs, aching for more of him.
It’s him and me up here with no one else. There’s no pretending I don’t know how this will go down if I let it.
Ryan groans as though I’m the only thing he wants.
“If we do this,” he breathes, “you can’t pretend tomorrow that it never happened.”
Everything feels so magical here. So right.
“Just kiss me, Rookie.”