Chapter 7 #2
Wheeler ducks her lips and nods. “I could get on board with that. Although you’re not springing for anything. Since this is a business trip, our food goes on my business card.”
I head for the register. “So you’re buying this round, huh?”
“I most certainly am.” She’s already digging inside her purse. “Just gimme a minute to find that damn card…”
But when it’s time to pay, I beat Wheeler to it, sticking my card into the reader just as she finds her Amex.
“Duke!”
I gently elbow her outstretched arm, card in hand, away. “Your money’s no good here.”
“Seriously, you have to let me pay. You drove, and you brought all that candy…” She looks up at the cashier. “Ma’am, is there a way to void this transaction?”
The reader beeps. Giving Wheeler a bored look, the cashier asks if I want a receipt.
“We’re good, thanks.”
“We’ll take a receipt if you don’t mind.” Wheeler glares at me. “That way, I know how much I owe you.”
“Would you quit? We’ll settle up later.” I nod at the doors. “Now get in the truck. We ain’t got much time, Bluebonnet.”
She gives me a look as she adjusts her hood. “Bluebonnet?”
I give her a look right back. “Surely you know what—”
“Of course I know what a bluebonnet is. I just don’t get why I have a nickname all of a sudden.”
“Because you’re my Texas flower, remember?”
“Ew.”
“Would you prefer Blue?”
“I would prefer Wheeler, thanks.”
“Got it.” I step forward, activating the automatic sliding door. “All right, Blue. Gird your loins. It’s as cold as a witch’s tit in a steel bra out there.”
Four miles and two near-death experiences later, we pull into a driveway that must be heated because it’s not the least bit icy.
My chest feels tight as I put the truck in park.
Not sure I breathed all that much during the last mile.
Those hairpin turns were not fun in whiteout conditions, especially when you’re driving a dinosaur of a truck whose tires have a questionable amount of tread.
I look through the windshield at the house.
Even in the dark, I can see how enormous it is.
How beautiful too. It’s exactly what I would picture a mansion in Aspen looking like: stone siding, big steel windows, a soaring, timber-framed roofline.
Tucked into the side of Aspen Mountain, the house must have incredible views of the Rockies.
It’s surrounded by the area’s famous aspen trees, some of them soaring twenty, thirty, fifty feet high.
The property must be worth tens of millions of dollars. Exactly what kind of “family friends” does Miss Wheeler Rankin here have?
“Holy shit.” I swivel my head to look at her. “You said we were staying at a cabin.”
She unbuckles her seat belt and reaches for her bag. “Yup.”
“This is not a cabin.”
“It’s a cabin. It’s just a really big cabin.” She straightens. “I mean, it’s still made out of wood and stuff. Lots of beams and antlers inside. Lots of fireplaces.”
“And you know these people how?”
She lifts a shoulder, then reaches for her door handle. “My parents have very rich, very generous friends. One of the few perks of—God, how am I already freezing? Let’s get the hell inside.”
We enter through a side door with a keypad. I frown when I hear Wheeler’s teeth chattering as we step inside.
“Hang tight, Blue. I’ll get a fire going.”
“That sounds so nice.”
She doesn’t call me out on the nickname. Makes me smile.
“Teamwork.” I flick on a light switch.
I’m struck dumb by what I see. We’re in a mudroom that’s about as big as the New House’s kitchen. It’s neat as a pin, not so much as a speck of dust or pair of shoes out of place.
I follow Wheeler into a kitchen with double-height ceilings and a pair of huge, marble-topped islands. She turns on the lights, and the living room comes into view. A stone fireplace dominates the space, along with a wall of those steel windows that go all the way up to the roofline.
There are two big, cushy sofas in front of the fireplace, complete with plenty of pillows and fur throw blankets.
Not gonna lie, first thing I think of is laying those blankets down on the floor by the fire. Getting Wheeler naked and curling her into the heat of my body. She’d warm up in no time.
“There’s plenty of bedrooms,” Wheeler is saying, “so take your pick.”
My cock twitches. Just hearing her say the word bedroom has me feeling some kind of way. As sick as this place is, I almost wish we were staying in a legit cabin with only one bedroom. One bed.
Wonder how that would shake out?
In the still silence of the house, the howling wind sounds enormous. I look up at a loud groan. Apparently the roof likes that wind about as much as I do.
“You think we’re okay?” Wheeler asks.
“Gonna take more than a little wind to knock down this house. Here, let me put the groceries away, and then I’ll put your suitcase in your room.”
“I can do that.”
But again, I beat her to it, grabbing her luggage and bringing it to her bedroom. She picked a gorgeous spot that’s just off the living area. It’s got a big-ass bathroom and a great little nook tucked inside the windows that would be perfect for working or reading.
Can I join you in here? I wanna ask.
“What the fuck do you have in here?” I ask instead, lifting her suitcase onto a luggage rack with an exaggerated grunt.
“The dismembered bodies of my enemies. Why?”
Goddamn, I like how this girl makes me laugh. “If you’re sayin’ this is my last night on earth…”
“Nah.” She throws me a hot look over her shoulder as she unzips her jacket. “I need you to drive me back down the mountain for my trunk show. After that, though, all bets are off.”
“I best get to drinking, then. Might as well enjoy my last twenty-four hours on earth.” I saunter across the room to help her out of her jacket. “How ’bout we get comfortable? I’ll get that bag of wine ready for slapping, and I can make us some grilled cheese if you’re hungry.”
I don’t miss the way she shivers as my thumbs graze the nape of her neck. When she turns around, I see her nipples poking through the fine knit of her sweater.
Her eyes catch on mine. My body pulses. Those eyes move to my mouth, and for a wild heartbeat, I think—
Hell, is this girl gonna kiss me?
“No,” she blurts, looking away. “I mean yes. Yes, I’m hungry. Let me get out of these clothes—”
Dear God.
“—and I’ll join you.”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek. “Great.”
“Great.”
I don’t feel great as I head out of the room with a half-hard dick. Which is why I choose a bedroom in the basement, as far away from Wheeler’s as possible. No risk of any nighttime run-ins this way.
If I see Wheeler in any kind of cute pajama situation—I’m imagining one of those nightie things with teeny-tiny straps and lace, nothing underneath it—I just might fling myself off the side of this mountain. End it all, because I can’t stand not taking the woman to bed.
I throw on a pair of sweats and a hoodie. My eyes burn inside my head like two balls of hellfire, so I take a deep breath, take out my contacts, and put on my glasses, praying like hell Wheeler thinks they look less dorky than I do. Then I head back upstairs.
Getting snowed in with a smart, funny, ambitious, beautiful woman was not part of the plan. But here we are.