2. Drake
Chapter 2
Drake
“ I ’ll never get used to this cold. I don’t know how I let you talk me into staying here.” I blow into my hands and rub them together frantically, trying to get some body heat going.
“It’s the Florida blood you got running through you. Time to toughen up, surfer boy.”
I roll my eyes at my best friend, Cole. Three months ago we decided to say fuck it to everything we knew. We packed our shit, we got in the truck, and we drove off, searching for who knows what. Four years of college and two years in the financial world, plus more than a decade of family dysfunction after we lost my sister, had me wanting to jump, and when he and I both expressed a need for a different style of life, we were out. No plan, just a tank full of gas.
Our thought was to head to California, visit some college friends, and maybe start fresh on a new coast. But as we took the long way around—because why not?—we ended up in Wintervale, Montana. I'm not sure what made us stop here. Maybe it was the drastic change in scenery, maybe it was the right place, right time. But the Wintervale Resort was lit up like a palace on a hill, and we had to check it out. Two weeks of scoping out the town, the surrounding area, and the amazing snowboard trails had us saying hell yes to staying. We spoke with a realtor and rented a cabin right off the outskirts of town. Cole ended up grabbing a bartending job at The Range Bar and Grill and I went to work for Snowed-In Deliveries. It’s the exact opposite of what my parents would want for me and it’s fucking fabulous.
Plus, I know my sister would love the idea that I’m finally doing something for me.
“You working the bar tonight?” I ask as we grab our coffees and sit at the corner table. Sweets ’n Spice Bakery is the best in town and I can’t get enough of it.
“Yes. I go in at six.” I nod, and he answers before I can even ask, “I haven’t seen that girl since that night.”
I shrug and let out a sigh. “It’s a resort town, she was probably passing through like we thought we would be.”
I think back to that night six weeks ago. It was one of the hottest I’ve ever had. The woman was drop-dead gorgeous. Blonde hair, light eyes, and a body cased in dark pink lace that was built for my hands to hold. The color reminded me of a raspberry and was so striking against her pale skin. And god, did she taste sweet like one too. It was the first week Cole had been bartending, and I went in and hung out to watch the game and have a few drinks. A group of women came in and one in particular caught my eye. As the night went on, we watched each other. There was no conversation, but my gaze followed her around the bar. When it was clear she wasn’t going to come over and introduce herself, I got up to leave but went to use the restroom before I left. It was dark as I made my way down the hall to the men’s room, and suddenly she appeared behind me and followed me inside.
I didn’t get her name before she was on me, kissing me like it was her last night on earth. Within minutes half of our clothes were off, and I was inside her in my next breath. I had never done anything like that before, but something about her made me want to lose control. Maybe it was just a primal urge deep inside me, wanting her to be mine, because there was nothing romantic about fucking in the bathroom. There was, however, an animalistic need to have her, a passion that flowed through me like never before.
She left before I could get my dick back in my jeans, and I haven’t seen her since. All I have are memories, and I replay that night over and over.
“Maybe. Anyway, listen. We need to come up with a plan,” Cole says.
“What kind of plan? I’m happy just doing whatever right now.”
“I know you are. I like this place too, but we’re going to get bored,” Cole persists.
“You may. I won’t. And before you say it, I don’t care that our parents are disappointed. Let mine be disappointed with my life; I certainly won’t be. And isn’t that the most important thing?” I try to reason with him.
He sits back and sighs. “You have a point. We have to be happy first. But I just can’t stand to hear my mom leave another tear-filled message and then have it followed up with an angry one from my dad. I know they’re playing good cop, bad cop, and it’s driving me crazy.”
“So change your number.”
He huffs a laugh. “So simple for you, isn’t it?”
“I’m not saying it’s simple. I miss my parents, but I don't miss the pressure they put on me. If we stayed in Florida running that Fortune 500 bullshit they wanted us to take over, we’d be dead from stress in five years.”
“Okay, so… what? I bartend and you make deliveries and that's our life?”
I shrug. “Maybe. Or maybe we meet the women of our dreams and get married. Start families of our own.”
“How are we friends?” He rolls his eyes at me.
I laugh at him. “I’m a romantic and you’re the planner. Balance.” I sip from my coffee and muse. “I bet you meet someone so wild you won’t know what to do with yourself. You’re going to see her and be completely all-in, and then you’re going to come to me wondering how you'll ever tame her.”
A look crosses his face that I can’t quite read, but then he says, “Oh? Then how about this? I bet you meet a woman so reserved and closed off, she’ll refuse your charms and you'll be left wondering how to win her over with your romantic idealism that doesn't work.”
“Harsh, bro.” We both snicker at ourselves. “I think the cold is freezing our brains.” I stand. “Come on, let's get out of here.”
Cole slides his chair out and rises, grabbing his coffee. We walk to the front of the bakery and toss the empty containers in the bin. When I turn to walk out the door, I walk right into someone.
“Oh, I apologize. Are you alr—” I freeze.
It’s her.
At my abrupt stop of sentence, she looks up, her eyes washing over me for a moment before recognition hits. She spins from me and is out the door so fast, I can’t get another word out to stop her before she’s gone.
When the shock wears off enough that I can move again, I follow her outside calling, “Wait!” but she’s already halfway down the sidewalk toward the next block.
“Who’s that?”
“It’s her. The girl. From the bar!”
He grabs hold of my arm. “Don’t chase her. She clearly doesn’t want to be remembered.”
“She’s unforgettable,” I whisper to myself.
I grab the arm of someone walking out behind us.
“Hey, did you see that girl? The blonde that’s running down the street now.”
The older gentleman looks around. “Could’ve been January. But I don’t know. Haven’t seen her in quite some time.”
“January?”
“Oldest sister of the Nilsson family.” The old man shakes his head. “They’ve been through it, especially that girl right there.” He mumbles something and begins trudging down the sidewalk, and I’m left staring at the back of the woman I can’t get out of my head, but I still don’t even know her name for sure.
Nilsson. That name is familiar. I see it on my delivery tags at least once a week. There’s got to be only one family in town with that name, and now I can’t wait to get to work and see if I found the woman who hasn't left my mind in six weeks.