Chapter 7 Sierra
SIERRA
“You get any?” Chloe asks when she comes into the living room where I’m on the couch reading a magazine.
I blink and look up. “Any what?”
“Reception.”
It’s the afternoon, and we’re hanging out in the living room. Even I have to admit it’s a little relaxing.
“You want to borrow my phone?” I ask.
“It’s okay. I’m trying to keep tabs on this storm. We have to be back tomorrow morning.”
Her gaze falls to my magazine.
“You ever been to South Beach?” Chloe asks. The glossy pages are a travel special about Miami—the sights, the bars and restaurants.
I shake my head. “I haven’t had a lot of chances to travel. Running the bar with my dad, I can’t exactly take off.” I flip a page, wondering what that would feel like.
“I get what it’s like trying to make your own way. When I joined the Kodiaks, there was a lot of cleanup to do.”
I glance at Chloe. She’s always struck me as hyper-capable and confident. “You could work anywhere. Why do you stay?”
She claims a stool next to the island. “It’s the guys. They’re like family. You know how it is.”
I’m still processing that as Jay descends the stairs, holding up his phone. “LA wants to hand us our asses tomorrow.”
“Clay seen this trash talk?” Atlas asks. “We should show him—"
“Pretty sure you won’t come back out with eyes.”
“Guys. We’ll have plenty of time to come back at them when we’re well rested and fed tomorrow,” Chloe says.
“New rule: no phones.” Ryan grabs Jay’s phone out of his hand.
“Dude, you’re out of line.”
The phone slips, making a sickening cracking sound as it hits the floor.
“Shit.”
“Dammit, Ryan!” Jay retrieves his phone, holding it up to reveal a big crack in the screen.
“This can’t be the perfect Christmas without a tree.” Ryan stomps toward the door. “I’m going to get a saw.”
“Get me a new phone while you’re at it?!” Jay calls.
The door slams shut.
The guys in the cabin go back to arguing, but I shove myself off the couch and chase after Ryan. My boots slip in the snow as I run out into the snowy afternoon.
“You can’t cut down a tree solo,” I call after I yank on my coat.
“Watch me.” Ryan trudges to the shed.
I tromp through the snow after him. Is it deeper than the last time I was out? If not, it will be soon.
“What was that about?” I ask as I catch up.
“Nothing,” he grunts, but his shoulders are hunched as though he’s in a bad mood about Jay.
Ryan ignores the lock and wedges his fingers into the opening.
“Still no luck with a key,” I deduce.
He shakes his head. “Trista offered to come and replace the lock. Figured I’d save us some time.” With a few hard yanks, the screws holding the lock give way and the shed door opens.
It’s kind of sexy, this lumberjack version of him, though I’m not about to admit it.
Inside, the shed is packet with outdoor toys and tools.
“I thought that coming to this cabin would help everyone bond and take a weight off, stop thinking about the game and everything going on,” Ryan says as he rummages through a work bench.
“It is,” I insist. “Everyone is having a good time.”
He doesn’t answer. When he turns up a saw, he nods in satisfaction.
We walk through the woods together, me rushing to keep pace with him. He doesn’t notice, his breath puffing in the cold and his hair curling against his forehead.
“Tell me more about your normal Christmas. What’s it like if you’re not with the team?” I ask.
“Lots of meals. My mom taught me to cook.”
“So you kids could fend for yourselves?”
“More like she didn’t want us winding up being a burden on our partners.”
I’m surprised, but maybe I shouldn’t be. “That’s very cool of her.”
“She’s a cool lady.”
I snort.
“What?”
“You just described your mom as a cool lady.”
“She is.” He cuts me a curious look, grinning. “So, why are you such a grinch?”
I don’t want to get into it, but Ryan’s so charming and roguish, and being here with him in the snow makes it feel as though everything is easy.
“Growing up with a family sports bar, Christmas was just another day. We worked. Instead of opening presents in pajamas, we were refilling drinks and running food.”
“No traditions?”
“Not really. Another day with better tips.”
“I’m sorry.”
I look up to see him watching me, his dark brows pulled together. I force a laugh. “Don’t be. It’s the job.”
He’s being so sweet. In my line of work, I hear a lot of people talk about their problems. Maybe not as many as some bartenders because it’s a fast-paced sports bar and not some backstreet dive, but I care about other people and can tell when another person’s interest is genuine.
It sounds as if Ryan actually cares about me and my life.
I lick my lips. “So, what kind of tree are we looking for?”
“The perfect fit for the cabin.”
“A small one.”
“Nope, there’s that peaked roof. Right over by the woodstove is the perfect spot. It’s got to be twelve feet tall at least.”
He would know, as he’s a lot closer to that height than I am.
“How about that one?” I point at a modest-looking tree.
“I was thinking more like that.” He nods toward a massive one, and I laugh out loud.
“Small problem—we have to get it back there.”
“Easy peasy.” He drops the saw into the snow and plants his hands on his hips. “I work out.”
“Obviously.” I meant because he’s a pro athlete and that’s part of the job, but a memory’s coming back to me. Maybe it’s coming back to him too, because his eyes heat.
I’m thinking back to that kitchen, when he called me out.
“How many times have you hooked up on your bar, Sierra?”
Sensations flash through my body, memories that I’m suddenly reliving.
I shake off the haze.
“Christmas wasn’t all bad,” I hear myself say.
“Mile High is always open on Christmas Day, especially if there’s a Kodiaks game.
I’m an only child, so we didn’t have big gatherings.
But when I was old enough to be a fan, my dad always gave me something from the team.
He tried to find something unique. Even if it wasn’t expensive, he wanted it to be special. ”
“The team means a lot to you.”
I feel a smile tug at my lips. “The bar gave my dad a way to plug into his favorite passion. I guess he passed that on to me. It’s probably stupid, building your whole life around a team.”
“Not at all. It’s people. And pride. And a purpose.”
I turn that over. “I’m surprised you’re so sentimental.”
He shrugs. “Holidays aren’t about buying shit. They’re a vessel for whatever you want to pour into them.”
When Ryan speaks, it’s as though he’s thought about it. That alone impresses me, but coupled with what he’s saying… there’s so much more to this guy than I gave him credit for.
I look past him. “How about that one?”
We cross to the tree, and he inspects it. “Perfect,” he decides.
He drops a rope he brought with him on the ground and takes up his position.
“You ever done his before, Christmas King?” I ask, folding my arms.
“Nope. But I’m a fast learner.” He starts to saw.
Five minutes later, he strips off his coat and passes it to me.
“Ready to tap out?” I ask as I take it.
“Just warming up.” But he swipes a hand over his brow.
He’s glistening in the sun. Not like Twilight vampire glistening, just a bead of sweat on his forehead.
I want to lick it off.
Ryan is hot. I’ve seen him on TV, even spent enough time with him in person that I could draw him from memory.
At least, if my art skills were more like Nova’s and less like a five-year-old’s attempt at their first stick person.
Point is, I’ve never had the chance to just watch him up close.
His body moves effortlessly, his muscles bulging under the shirt. His brows pull together in concentration, his lips parted as he works.
Awareness prickles low in my stomach.
I’m imagining him focused on me instead of that tree. There’s a sweet ache low in my stomach. I can’t remember when it started, but it’s growing every minute.
“Get ready,” he says.
I blink. “For what?” My voice is rough.
“The tree’s going to fall that way.” He points my direction.
It does, but a little more angled than I expected.
“Ryan…” my voice rises at the end.
I’m paralyzed. I can’t move.
Fucking move.
He dives for me and knocks me out of the way. I hit the ground hard. Or at least I would if there weren’t a foot of snow on everything.
The sun burns the backs of my eyelids. Breathe.
“Sierra.” Ryan’s urgent voice comes from above me.
Close.
I nod because I can’t speak.
It’s agonizingly long before I manage to suck in air. “Just got the wind knocked out of me.”
I crack open my eyes to see him over me. He’s straddling me, his weight on his hands and knees.
“It was worth it to have perfect Christmas decoration,” I pant.
Ryan laughs, and it feels every bit as good as anything I can remember. “I forgot mistletoe,” he admits.
I snort. “My first kiss ever was under the mistletoe at a Christmas party.”
“Ahh. And it was so bad you’ve hated the holidays ever since.”
“No!” I laugh. “I was ten. I had a huge crush on this guy, Dustin.”
“And he laid one on you?”
“I kissed him.”
“I like a woman who knows what she wants.”
Snow sneaks in under the back of my jacket, getting on my skin and ripping me from my thoughts with a shocking cold. I screech an embarrassingly high-pitched sound.
Ryan immediately sizes up what’s happening and rolls me so I’m on top. “Better?”
I’m over him, my mittens braced under his arms because he’s too tall for me to reach above his shoulders. Every part of us is touching.
Damn, he’s huge. I’ve seen him like this before, but it’s different now.
“Ryan…”
A clump of snow hits the back of my head.
He chuckles. The vibration has me feeling the warmth of him through our clothes.
“How come you’re on the bottom and the snow still got me?” I demand as I brush at my hair.
“I’m the Christmas King.” His grins widens.
But I’m smiling too.
My jacket is undone, and his is on the ground a few feet away. I’ve never been so aware of what I’m wearing, and not wearing.
“That kiss with Dustin,” he says after a minute, “if you want to reenact it, I’m your guy.”
Breathing is hard. It has nothing to do with the fact that his weight was crushing me a few moments ago.
“There’s no mistletoe. Besides…” I swallow. “Kissing you is different.”
A bird chirps in the forest, flying overhead.
Ryan’s eyes darken. “I figured you’d forgotten, seeing as how you never mentioned it again.”
“That’s not true.”
“What, that you forgot or haven’t mentioned it?”
His hands are still on my hips.
“I—either. Both?”
At my bar, I’m the one in control. Here, between the holiday cheer and the great outdoors and the fact that I watched the hottest man I’ve ever seen cut down a tree, I’m so out of my element.
His attention drops to my mouth. I shift over him, suddenly unable to keep still.
“You’re making this harder,” I complain.
“What?” He props himself up on his elbows and brings us closer. His eyes are inches away and so beautiful it’s unfair.
“Resisting you.”
Triumph flashes across his handsome face.
Ryan’s thumbs dig into my hips. “I’m sorry.”
I search his eyes. “No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not,” he whispers.
Then he closes the distance between us.