Chapter 3
Caleb
Okay, okay. This is fine.
It’s not weird or a big deal. People share hotel rooms all the time. In movies. On ski trips. In, like… survival situations. Which this kind of is, right?
There is a snowstorm, and knowing how Colorado works, it’s very likely that the road will close if it hasn’t already from everyone trying to get back and sliding into each other.
I can’t take that risk with Sam, especially when it was hard enough to drive from the base of the mountain to the hotel.
It took ten minutes when it probably should have taken two, and the last thing I want is to multiply that for an almost two-hour drive. It’s simply not worth it.
Tonight is just two dads trying to make it through the night with their sons and their dignity intact.
Sam is thrilled about the sleepover invitation.
He, of course, is totally unfazed by the fact that we’re about to share a hotel room with strangers.
Well, technically not strangers. I know Nash and Benji’s names.
And the fact that Nash’s eyes are crazy blue, and he has really nice hands, and he looks unfairly good in ski gear, and I am undeniably attracted to him.
I’m trying to remain calm about this situation, but I feel like I’m coming across as awkward. I can’t tell if Nash is flirting with me or is even into men, and I have no idea how to flirt with men, especially since I’ve never been good at it in the first place with women.
My ex really did a number on my self-esteem when she left me.
“Dad, did you hear me?” Sam cuts through my thoughts. “Benji said there’s a heated pool at the hotel! Can we go? Please?”
“Yeah, bud,” I say, trying to pull my head out of my ass. “Let’s just get to the room first, okay?”
The whole way over here, he’s told me he had the best day ever—making a new friend, skiing until he could barely stand, and now he gets to have a sleepover in a hotel during a snowstorm in the mountains.
He’s over the moon. And I’m trying not to overthink the fact that I’m about to share a hotel room with the most attractive man I’ve ever met.
A man I talked to for the first time this morning.
I’m happy for Sam. Really. He deserves this kind of joy. But my brain is running a mile a minute overthinking every awkward possibility—what if I snore? What if I have to pee in the middle of the night? What if I accidentally say something embarrassing and Nash regrets his invite?
I need to pull it together. It’s just one night. Given that it’s with a very kind, very charming man who somehow makes me feel more seen than I have in years is irrelevant.
Damn it, I’m doomed.
When we pull into the snow-covered parking lot, I text Nash that we’re here and grab the bag I always pack which, luckily, has a change of clothes.
It’s not like we ever actually change after skiing, but I always throw it in the car just in case.
Today that “just in case” mentality really paid off, otherwise we’d be stuck in the same sweaty clothes all night.
“Come on, Dad!” Sam yells impatiently as I finish up at the car.
“Alright, I’m ready,” I say, hitting the lock button before putting my hand back in my coat. It’s absolutely freezing out here, and despite how nervous I am about sharing the hotel room, I really am relieved we don’t need to drive home in this weather.
Nash texted me the room number before we left the mountain parking lot, but when we walk inside the lobby, he’s there waiting for us with a big smile on his face.
“Hey! Glad you agreed to stay, the roads are already crazy,” he greets, and I’m even happier to be here now that he seems genuinely excited to see us… and somehow slightly more nervous.
The hotel’s nice, in that slightly outdated, rustic kind of way.
It was probably the pinnacle of mountain luxury when the resort first opened, and it hasn’t changed much since then.
Wood beams stretch across the ceiling, and a big stone fireplace crackles in the center of the room, surrounded by worn brown leather chairs.
There’s a lobby bar tucked into the corner that looks busy, likely with people taking advantage of being snowed in.
“Happy we’re staying, thanks again. Lead the way.” I gesture to Nash.
He walks toward the elevator, and I can’t help but notice how his hair is still a bit damp from his helmet sweat, curling a little at the ends in a way that makes me want to run my fingers through it.
Get it together, Caleb. You’ve known this man for less than a day.
For someone who's never been with a man, my imagination is having no trouble picturing all the things I’d like to do with him. I keep cycling between feeling intrigued and flustered, and I have no idea if he’s feeling anything at all. He could just be a nice person who’s offering a helping hand.
That’s probably all it is.
Once the elevator dings and opens on the floor we’re staying on, Sam and I follow Nash down the long hallway to the room we’re sharing.
Nash opens the door, and the room is rustic with a mountain-themed feel, but what my eyes get stuck on is the two beds in the room.
They’re so close together with only an end table to separate them, and I gulp at how close Nash and I will be sleeping.
I don’t know why I didn’t think about this earlier when he invited us.
Of course they have a standard hotel room with two beds.
I’m pretty sure he told me that but I was too overwhelmed to process it.
“This is awesome.” Sam grins as soon as we’re in the room.
“Can we share a bed?” Benji asks Nash before I even put my bag down, and I freeze.
My brain short-circuits because kids are so damn direct, and I have no idea what to do right now.
Does Nash want to share a bed with me? Is that something he’s even considered? Is it going to be weird? It’s going to be weird. We just met. My face is burning hot, and my palms are sweaty. I’ve never felt this flustered in my life.
Oh god, why did I sign us up to share a room with them?
It’s been all of sixty seconds and he’s already going to regret this invitation.
“Yeah! Can we, Dad? Please?” Sam shouts with bubbling excitement because, of course, he needs to pile on the pressure, even if it’s completely unintentional.
I glance at Nash, eyebrows raised, hoping he’ll take the lead here, because honestly, I have no idea what the right move is.
I hate being the one to make decisions that involve someone else’s comfort, especially when that someone isn’t Sam.
This whole situation is already pushing the boundaries of what I know how to navigate, and that’s the most challenging part of being a single parent—always single-handedly having to be the one to make every decision.
There are so many moments I wish I could just give up control and have someone tell me what to do instead of constantly second-guessing myself.
“Well…” I start, still unsure how to answer. That is, until I look over at Nash, who is smiling at me.
“Do you care?” he checks.
“No. Not at all,” I say far too fast. “It’s totally fine.
” I lie because nothing about this is fine.
How are we going to sleep in the same bed together?
What if we touch each other, or I roll into him and try to cuddle him?
It’s been a long time since I’ve shared a bed with anyone.
Oh god, what if I get a boner? What if I wake up and my hard dick is pressed into his ass?
Why did we agree to this? This was the most foolish plan I’ve ever had.
“Alright, great,” Nash says, nodding toward the boys who are already debating who gets what side. “And this way we don’t have to deal with them yelling across the room to each other.”
“True,” I huff before I swallow down all my nerves. Not only am I sharing a hotel room with the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on, but now, due to our children, I’m sharing a bed with him. A bed!
“Exactly, works better for all of us.” Nash smiles easily, probably completely fine with this.
“Yep, cool,” I nervously agree.
“Cool,” he echoes.
The kids don’t even notice the awkward tension because they’re too busy arranging pillows…
or something. I’m really not sure what they’re doing since I’ve managed to block them and their entire conversation out of my mind to spiral over my own struggles.
I’ve accepted I’m not winning any Dad of the Year awards based on my behavior right now.
Unsure of what else to do, I pick our bag up to move it before sitting down on the edge of the bed. I try to shift my thoughts to literally anything else when Sam jumps in front of me.
“Dad,” he says, eyes wide. “What about the pool? Can we go?”
Benji lights up immediately. “Yeah! It’s heated!”
Nash groans quietly beside me. “I was hoping they’d forget.”
Sam turns to me with a pleading look. “Did you bring my swimsuit? Please tell me you did.”
“No, bud. I didn’t pack anything specifically for a night in the mountains.
I thought we’d be home tonight,” I say, and Sam visibly deflates, throwing his little body down on the bed with a dramatic sigh like I’ve just ruined his life.
I hate disappointing him, but he can always go in his shorts.
Before I can suggest it, though, Nash speaks.
“Hang on,” he says, standing up and grabbing his bag. “Benji’s extra stuff is in here. I always throw in extra of just about everything in case he forgot to pack something.”
Sam perks up in an instant at Nash’s suggestion. “Wait, really?”
“Yeah,” Nash says, already rummaging through a neatly rolled-up bundle of clothes while I’m silently praying that there’s an extra set in there. Though I doubt Nash would’ve mentioned it if he wasn’t sure. “Benji might be a little taller than you, but these should work for the pool.”
Nash tosses him a folded bundle, which looks like swim trunks and a T-shirt. “Try that. If it fits, we’re good.”
Sam runs quickly to the bathroom to try it on, and I’m feeling inexplicably grateful for Nash at this moment. “You packed an extra swimsuit?”
“Between him and his sister, I’ve realized you can never be too prepared,” he says easily.
He didn’t pack that suit for Sam specifically, and yet, I can’t help feeling this quiet wave of relief anyway because it’s one less thing I have to worry about.
“Thanks,” I say quietly.
Nash shrugs and gives me a look that says it’s no big deal, but to Sam, it’s everything. I stand, taking a few steps toward the bathroom door and knock. “Hey, Sam, don’t forget to rinse off first, okay? You’ve been in ski gear all day.”
His groan comes through the door, but he doesn’t argue as I hear the shower turn on.
“You too, Benji,” Nash says to his son who’s riffling through the clean clothes on the bed.
“Fine,” he huffs, and I laugh at how much he seems to resist showering too, just like Sam.
Nash stands and stretches, then turns to me. “Want to rinse off before we head down?”
“Yeah, I’d love to, as long as we can hold them off from running down there without us.”
“All we can do is try,” he says with a wink, and I damn near melt. There’s something about the ease between us that makes it feel like we’ve known each other for years.
Sam and Benji each take all of two minutes in the shower, barely rinsing off before they’re back out in the room, hair damp and towels clutched in their hands, clearly impatient. Nash motions for me to go next, so I grab my bag and head into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.
The steam’s already fogged the mirror, and the air smells faintly of citrus. I turn on the water, peel off my clothes, and step under the spray. It’s hot enough to sting at first, but after a day of skiing in the cold, it feels incredible.
I pump the hotel’s citrus-scented shampoo from one of the full-sized bottles mounted to the shower wall, working it through my hair slowly before rinsing it out. Then I grab the body wash and soap up quickly, knowing there are two boys out there bouncing off the walls waiting for the pool.
By the time my hand drags absently over my half-hard dick, I have to shut my eyes for a second and breathe. Now is not the time. Definitely not the time. But the thought of Nash coming in here next, stripping down and stepping under this same spray, does nothing to help my self-control.
I do my best to push the thought away and finish up as quickly as I can, shutting the water off so I’m forced to get out. I towel off, pull on the clean clothes I packed, and run a hand through my damp hair. I feel a hundred times better already.
When I step back out into the room, I glance over Sam and Benji to look right at Nash, and it feels like the air is knocked from my lungs. How can one person be so objectively attractive? It isn’t fair. Shouldn’t even be allowed.
He smiles at me, and before my brain catches up, my mouth betrays me.
“I’m all yours,” I blurt.
Oh fuck. Fuck, fuckity, fuck.
“The bathroom, I mean! It’s all yours. Not me. I’m not—” Oh god, I cut myself off. My face is on fire, cheeks burning with embarrassment. I might as well have announced I was just in there thinking about him while I was naked.
How can I be this embarrassing?
I’m all yours?
I’m all yours?!
What is wrong with me?
I’m a grown man, for crying out loud, and I’ve never been this tripped up before.
I’ve handled harder conversations with doctors, teachers, lawyers, and mortgage lenders without breaking a sweat.
Usually, I can fake confidence, even when I don’t feel it—something I’ve picked up from being a single parent—but suddenly, it’s like that skill has completely evaded me. Because I said that.
Apparently, one attractive guy who’s kind and has a good smile is all it takes to destroy me.
“Cool, thanks,” Nash says easily, like he’s doing me a favor by pretending not to notice how much of an idiot I am. He’s got the biggest grin on his face, though, as he grabs his clothes and ducks into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
I flop back onto the bed and exhale hard, dragging a hand over my face.
“Are you okay?” Sam asks, leaning over me.
“Fine, bud,” I say, clearing my throat. “Just waiting.”
He shrugs, already moving on, but my brain refuses to follow. I can’t stop replaying Nash’s amused expression. Almost like he was holding back a laugh and politely ignoring the fact that I clearly lost all social awareness… and possibly my mind.
Now, tonight, I have to share a bed with this man after I just said that.
Fantastic.