Chapter 6
Dylan
“Holy shit,” I say, a little stunned at how much snow just fell on my head.
Lauren shrieks and jumps up and down to get the snow out of her coat.
I had every intention of kissing Lauren and instead nature said, “Not today, motherfucker.”
Disappointed, I shake my head like a wet dog, snow flying everywhere.
Lauren starts laughing. "That was just rude of the snow, wasn’t it?"
"Very," I say, swiping snow off of my face and mouth. “Are you cold?” I ask her. She’s shivering.
She nods. “Very.” She gives me a smile. “But your scarf saved me. Without it, I would have a very wet neck and back.”
Which…makes me visualize Lauren naked and wet. I almost groan.
Now we’re smiling at each other. We’re doing it again. Looking and smiling. I can’t tell if she thinks I’m an idiot or if she is receptive to the idea of snowstorm sex in front of a roaring fire.
So I reach behind her and brush off her upper back, the powder raining down onto the deck.
She makes a face and tries to look over her shoulder at her own back. “We should go in before we get too cold and can’t warm up. The hot chocolate will all be cold by now and all we have is the fireplace.”
“Very practical.”
If not a little disappointing.
I like being outside in the crisp clean air and the snow with Lauren.
All the bullshit details back at Four Brothers in Kentucky, and my busy life in Nashville, where I live full-time and we have an office for the distillery, seem very far away.
Back inside the cabin, we shed our wet coats and boots by the door. The place feels toasty after the bitter cold outside, but I can already tell it's getting chilly. Without the central heat, the fireplace is doing its best, but it's fighting a losing battle against the size of the space.
“Damn these high ceilings,” Lauren says, rubbing her arms. “I need to go put more layers on.”
That is the worst thing I’ve ever heard. I want her out of layers, not bundled up with more. But reality is a bitch.
"I’ll meet you by the fireplace. I’m going to get more wood real quick.”
By the time I’m back with another huge armful of wood, Lauren is dressed in pajama pants and is pulling blankets off the couch and chairs, gathering them near the fireplace. She’s cleaned up our dinner plates already.
"Good thing Jolene believes in the more the merrier when it comes to throw blankets," she says.
"She’s definitely a bigger is better kind of woman. You’ve seen her hair, right?" I ask with a grin. “Teased all the way to Jesus.”
Lauren laughs. “Big hair, tiny skirts. That’s Jolene. How do you know Chance, by the way?”
“We run in the same circles. My brother is good friends with Cash Young, who is good friends with Chance. And I know Jolene’s brother.
” I start arranging pillows from the couch on the floor in front of the fireplace.
“You must be an impressive songwriter if Jolene trusts you to write here, in her personal space.”
“So if you know Shane, you know my best friend, Avery. She’s his girlfriend.”
“Oh, sure, I met her once, briefly, at a launch party. She seemed very sweet.” I notice that she avoided the compliment I gave her about her songwriting. I decide to let it slide.
Her business, not mine.
“Avery is very sweet. She's the human version of a marshmallow.”
Lauren is bourbon, then, in spite of what she likes to snack on. She’s smooth and layered. But I don’t say that out loud. Nope. I keep my mouth shut.
We arrange everything in front of the fireplace, creating a cozy nest of pillows and blankets on the plush rug.
“It looks like a sleepover fort,” Lauren says. “Which is appropriate because we will be sleeping right here in it or we’ll freeze to death.”
“We’re not going to freeze to death. I promise.”
“You can’t make a promise like that. We very well might freeze. What temperature does hypothermia set in?”
“People lived for thousands of years with just a fire as a heat source,” I point out.
“And people died.”
“The only thing that is dying tonight is your sense of adventure,” I say. I have a feeling Lauren is a rise-to-the-challenge kind of girl. If I poke at her, she’ll work overtime to prove me wrong.
In the midst of settling onto the rug and pulling a soft cream-colored blanket around her shoulders, she pauses to glare at me. “My sense of adventure is massive. I came to a cabin in the woods by myself, didn’t I?”
“To a luxury chalet,” I correct. “And you have Buck to keep you company.” I nod toward the reindeer standing sentry by the front door.
Lauren is definitely the kind of woman to name the reindeer. She has a vibrancy about her, a big energy, that I’m really drawn to.
“Buck is a terrible conversationalist. Just admit it. I’m very brave.” She flips the end of the blanket across her shoulder like a scarf.
“You’re right. You’re very brave. Can I get you anything? A snack? Some water? Your bag of marshmallows?” I start to stand up.
“Why, where are you going?” Lauren’s arm shoots out and grabs me by the wrist. “You’re not going outside, are you?”
I fight the urge to grin. Very brave, huh?
“What? No. I’m going to the kitchen. Where the snacks and the water and the marshmallows live.”
“Oh. Okay.” Lauren seems to realize she’s got a death grip on my wrist because she looks at her hand like it’s done her an injustice and drops it back into her lap.
If she wasn’t so damn cute and vulnerable right now, I would tease her. Instead, I say, “We’re not going to freeze to death.”
She nods, but she also bites her bottom lip and looks less than convinced.
That lip is distracting. I want to sink my own teeth into the tender flesh. I want to kiss her until those lips part and then tease my tongue inside her mouth to entwine with hers.
I want to…
“Bring the bourbon,” she says. “It will make time go faster.”
“Or just knock you unconscious.”
“Even better.”
Lauren is clearly genuinely concerned.
I have a double mission now to both keep her warm and distract her.
I add another log to the fire as I shift around her legs.
It’s meant to reassure her but she says, “Are we going to run out of wood?”
I squat down in front of her, stare deep into her eyes.
Her own eyes widen. Her lips part.
Then I brush my thumb over her cheek, lean in and…
“No. We’re not,” I say.
Then I stand up, making sure my thigh brushes her shoulder as I do.
I hear her gasp but I don’t turn around as I make my way to the kitchen with a flashlight, grinning.
Gathering up two armfuls of supplies, I return to find her staring into the dancing flames of the fire. I hand her a tumbled filled with bourbon and watch her take a sip.
“Want to play a game?” I ask.
“That sounds like the beginning of every horror movie ever written.”
That makes me laugh. “Fair enough. But maybe we could find a deck of cards or play twenty questions or…”
Have sex in front of the fire.
All fun things. Sex being the funnest.
“Hm?” Lauren glances over at me, clearly distracted.
She’s lost in thought and I don’t think it’s about how much she can’t wait to get naked with me. These are deep thoughts.
“Are you okay?”
Her knees are drawn up to her chin.
I put a hand on one of them. “You don’t have to be scared, seriously. We’re going to be fine. We have plenty of wood and body heat.”
That gets her attention. She rolls her eyes at me. “It’s not that.”
“Your song?” I guess.
She nods and sips more bourbon.
"Tell me about it," I say, striving for casual. I top off her drink, which she has managed to finish already.
"It's for a major artist. I can't say who, but if they record it..." She trails off.
"It could change everything."
"Yeah. Like, everything. In case that wasn’t clear."
"No pressure there." I squeeze her knee and release it. “What’s your usual process?”
“Not getting drunk in a freezing cabin with a stranger.”
“Are you cold?” I put my arm around her shoulder and wrap another blanket around both of us.
“Yes.” She leans her head on my shoulder.
Lauren doesn’t feel cold at all. She feels toasty warm. I don’t think she’s actually cold. She’s just worried about producing a hit. I’m glad I’m here with her. She needs comforting, reassurance.
I don’t know her at all and yet somehow I can sense that.
“I’m tired,” she says, setting her glass on the fireplace hearth.
“So lay down.”
She does, so I lay down next to her, sprawled out under a mound of blankets, multiple pillows beneath our heads. For a brief second we’re facing each other. Lauren’s eyes are bright, her lips full, barely parted.
I want to kiss her.
I’m going to kiss her.
But when I brush her dark hair back off of her cheek, she suddenly rolls over onto the opposite side, so she’s facing the flames.
The doors are closed to the roaring fire but I’m worried if I need to add a log or stoke it embers will pop and land on her.
“Back up a little. You’re too close to the fire.”
“Isn’t that the point?” she murmurs, but she obediently scoots back.
To be honest, I wasn’t expecting her to agree so readily or move so quickly. She does like to protest my suggestions. So when she shifts immediately, I haven’t shifted back.
Her backside unexpectedly collides with my body.
It’s an epic collision.
Because now my cock is amazingly nestled between those very full and bouncy ass cheeks.
“Hey! Are you serious right now?” Lauren glares at me over her shoulder. “You did that on purpose.”
Even that movement has her ass rubbing against me, unintentional or not. A little groan escapes my lips before I can stop it. “I did not, I swear. I didn’t think you’d move that fast.”
“I move very fast. I’m…efficient.”
I try not to laugh. Her outrage sounds fake to me but I don’t want to be disrespectful. I start to shift away from her.
“You have a hard on,” she accuses.
That gives me pause. “No, I don’t.”
Well. A slight one. Most of that is all me.
“Seriously again?” she asks, and now she sounds curious. Intrigued. Maybe a little turned on.
“I’m a shower, not a grower.”
“Oh.” Then she punches her pillow and flops her head away from me. “Well, now I’m offended for a totally different reason.”
That makes me chuckle. “Care to explain?”
I know what she means. I just want to hear her say it.
“Nope.”
“I shared something very personal with you,” I murmur, even as I shift a few inches away from her. “I think you should share something personal with me.”
“What did you share with me that was personal? I’m sure every human you meet gets treated to your bourbon snobbery instantly.”
She knows I’m referring to the shower versus grower thing.
And that I’m teasing her.
Mostly.
I was curious to see if she would flirt back.
“I told you my middle name,” I say.
Lauren relaxes and says softly, “Louise.”
It makes my heart squeeze just a little. “That’s a lovely middle name.”
I run my fingers down Lauren’s arm.
“Mm. That feels nice.”
It does. Even if it’s not her bare skin. I can still smell the lingering scent of peppermint on her and feel her warmth.
She sounds relaxed.
So relaxed that in a minute she’s asleep.
I shift closer again, adjusting the blanket to make sure she’s covered everywhere. I can’t sleep. So I just watch Lauren and the fire, adding wood when needed.
It occurs to me I haven’t been this still or this content in a very long time.
It’s fucking nice.
Just…fucking nice.