Chapter 2
Chapter Two
GRANT
“When will you be home then?” Kari asks, her annoyance audible over the phone.
“I don’t know. All flights have been canceled.”
“This is supposed to be my weekend with Luke. I’ve barely seen him this month.”
Whose fault is that?
“Look, I didn’t dump a foot of snow on this town to strand us here. If we could get home, we would.”
She scoffs. “Whatever, Grant. You know we’re leaving to go on our trip once you get back. I’d like to have some time with my son before then.”
“And as soon as we land, I’ll bring him straight over, but—”
“You don’t know when that will be. Got it. Text me when you know.”
Kari ends the call, and it takes everything I have not to smash my phone into the bar. Only my ex-wife would blame me for the weather and not getting home when I said we would.
I hate to think what she might say when she learns I had an impromptu meeting with the owner of the Pinecrest Loggers while I was here. Not that it’s going to turn into anything, but any disruption to her life and I’m the one to blame.
Even though we got divorced four years ago.
“You look like you could use another drink.”
The bartender comes back over. It’s late now, so most of the other parents have wandered back up to their rooms by this point. It’s me plus a few people lingering over a high-top in the corner.
“Do I look that bad?”
“I’ve seen worse. What can I get you?”
“Another.” I hold up my empty beer bottle.
“Last one, is that okay?”
“How can a bar run out of alcohol?” I ask.
He laughs. “Because we had a wedding and stranded parents with their kids for the last two days. No deliveries means we’re out of booze.”
I let out a low whistle. “Damn. Should I apologize to you now? Or later.”
He waves me off. “We’re good. Hopefully the roads will be cleared up by tomorrow. We usually don’t get snow this late in the season.”
“I appreciate you letting us stay here.” I nod in thanks as he uncaps the glass bottle and slides it over to me. “Kids are getting a little stir-crazy, I think.”
“Hence why the parents have drunk us dry.”
I smile at him and sip the cold beer. Fuck, is that ever good. It’s needed after that damn call with Kari.
It seems no matter what I do, I can’t please anyone.
My ex-wife.
My son.
No one.
Hell, I’d take getting my kid to say more than two words to me at a time, but I don’t think that’ll happen any time soon. When I told him to stay in the bunk room tonight—thank God it’s not my night to supervise them—he rolled his eyes and went off with his friends.
“Calvin, can I get two fingers of bourbon, please?”
That voice. It was irate with me earlier. Now it sounds tired. Sneaking a peek next to me, I spot the woman that yelled at me in the bar. The one that went off on me because of the kids.
Because of the massive stain that still covers her dress.
Shit. That really was bad.
“Ugh. It’s you.”
Her gaze connects with mine. There is still a fire blazing in her blue eyes. Guess I was looking at her for too long.
But even with that anger there, damn, she is the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Hey, it’s not my fault the kids ruined your dress.”
She rolls her eyes, grabbing her bourbon and taking a healthy swallow. “Does that mean I should blame the weather?”
I snort, turning in my stool to better face her. “I mean, if it weren’t for the snow, we wouldn’t be here.”
“Man, it’s really easy for you to shift blame off them.”
“Just like that.” I snap my fingers. “If it were my kid, trust me, he’d be grounded.”
Not that he’d need another reason not to speak to me, but it would add to the list.
“At least one of you would be reprimanding them,” she says.
I don’t blame her for being annoyed. After that mom told her to clean up, I would have been pissed too. They were more irritated their night got interrupted than anything else. Some of the kids’ parents are the worst. I hate traveling with them, but it is what it is.
“Can I buy you a drink to make up for the trouble?”
That earns me half of a smile. “I work here. I don’t actually have to pay for drinks.”
“Just as well. It’s not like there’s much of anything left.”
“I think we can blame you and the other baseball parents,” she points out.
“Us? You said you were in a wedding. Weddings are notorious for drinking.”
“Yeah, but you weren’t supposed to be here.”
I smile at her. I can’t help it. “You really don’t like me, do you?”
“I don’t know you well enough not to like you. Although, in my defense, I thought you were going to call me a bitch earlier, so that had me ready to throw down.”
“I would never call someone a bitch.”
“Only a hard-ass.” The corner of her mouth pulls up into a full smile.
“I mean, they’re still only kids.”
“Ugh. Fine.” She rolls her eyes. “You win. Yes, I was being a hard-ass, but can you blame me? I have a giant red stain on my dress which means I’ll have to trash this dress because I doubt this will come out of satin. And they threw a snowball at me—”
“On purpose?” I ask.
“That I don’t know, but it was just my luck tonight.”
“Sorry.” I wince. “Did you at least enjoy the wedding?”
“I did. How can you not when your best friend is getting married to her person?”
A lovesick look washes over her face. The kind that is still hopeful about love. Something that I lost a long time ago. Love? Not something I’m looking for.
“Are you here by yourself then? No date or anything?”
“Are you fishing, Grant?” she asks before taking another sip of her drink.
“Only curious. I figured someone like you would have a date to your friend’s wedding.”
She shakes her head, blonde wisps of hair floating around her face. In the soft lighting of the bar, it gives her an angelic look.
“Single as a Pringle.”
I snort around my beer. “Alright then.”
“What? I am. No point in denying it. What about you? Is your wife here with you?”
I smile at her. “As you would say, single as a Pringle.”
“Hey, don’t knock it. It works. Especially when you work around kids.”
“So better than single and ready to mingle?”
She laughs and it’s nice to hear. Especially over her yelling at me. Although, I would take that too. I oddly like being in this woman’s orbit.
“Oh my God, you did not just say that.”
“What? That’s what I thought the phrase was supposed to be.”
“Maybe if you’re a dinosaur.”
“Ouch. I’m not that much older than you.”
She eyes me up and down, her gaze lingering over my biceps. Yeah, I definitely like being around this woman.
“You’re what, forty?”
“Really?” I cock a brow at her. “I’m not that old. Thirty-five.”
“You’ve got a decade on me then.”
“You’re twenty-five?”
“I am.” She nods.
There’s something about her that feels older to me. It’s not that she doesn’t look her age, but the way she could command a room? Something I don’t always see of people her age.
Taking a chance, I move one stool closer to her. Based on the way she turns to face me, I don’t think she minds.
“So what do you do around here? Are you the event planner?”
“Why would you think that?” she asks.
This time, it’s her moving closer to me. There’s exactly one barstool between us, and suddenly I’m finding that to be too much space.
“Considering you said you were hosting a wedding, I only assumed.”
The corner of her mouth ticks up in a smile. “You know what they say when you assume.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I laugh.
“I mean, do you think I’d be a good event planner if I let some kids rattle me?”
I glance down at the stain on her dress. It’s not as bad as earlier, but still, not great. “I’d also think you’d have a change of clothes just in case.”
“I did, but I don’t think wearing sweatpants to my friend’s wedding would’ve been a great look.”
“Spaghetti stains it is, then?” I ask, sipping my beer.
“Everyone always does say I’m a trendsetter.”
“I see. That’s what you do then?”
She shakes her head, drinking down more of her bourbon. I watch as her throat moves. There’s something entrancing about it. Hell, about everything this woman does. I’ve only been talking to her for a few minutes, but I like it. It’s definitely turned this shitstorm of a day around.
“Cowgirl.”
“Seriously?”
She nods. “What, I don’t look like one?”
This time, I let my eyes rake over her. Over her biceps. The swell of her breasts in that damn dress of hers. The way one leg is elegantly crossed over the other.
Right down to her tan cowboy boots.
“I’ve never met a cowgirl, so I have no idea what one looks like.”
“I wanted to see what you’d say.” She laughs. “I work in the barn. I run a therapy program for kids, and when I’m not doing that, I help with the trail rides here.”
“So a cowgirl.” I wink at her.
“It’s what I do best.”
“Care to show me?”
She looks behind her through the French doors, where a light dusting of snow is still coming down. Even this late, it’s still bright out because of how much snow is on the ground.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to take the horses out.”
I down the rest of my beer and move to the seat closest to her. My jean-clad knee brushes against hers, and I don’t miss the way her eyes focus on the point of contact.
Oh, yeah.
This makes my next move easy.
“I have a better idea, if you’re up for it.”
Georgia finishes her drink and sets it on the bar top. “What’s that?”
I brush my fingers over her hand that rests next to mine. Goose bumps break out over her skin. I follow the path they lead, wandering over her bare shoulder before pulling her hair tie out and brushing it behind her ear.
Her blue eyes are focused on mine, full of desire.
“I can think of other ways for you to show me what a good cowgirl you are.”
She stands, her chest brushing against mine. “Then I guess there’s only one question.”
Fuck. My dick is rock-hard in my pants, threatening to burst out.
“What might that be?”
“Your room, or mine?”