Chapter 5
KOLTON
Un-fucking-believable. An hour from this day finally being over, and this woman turns up.
I don’t recognize the other two crammed in our doorway, but the reckless skier, with her full lips and confident air, is unforgettable.
The way her eyes flare, snapping with irritation, it doesn’t look like she forgot me, either.
“You here to apologize?” I ask her. There are a slew of other things I should find out first, like her name or how the hell she found me, but today’s frustrations have festered into the evening, and I haven’t let go of her carelessness.
“Apologize? Okay. Sure. I’m very sorry you skied into me and nearly broke my tailbone. The guilt is all-consuming.” Each word drips with sarcasm, her annoyance clearly still as acute as mine.
“This is the Asshole? And you skied off?” says the dark-haired one beside her. Her thick bangs hang blunt over charcoal eyes.
The boys are up now, Sawyer leaning over my shoulder. “So this is the Bitch who knocked you on your ass. And didn’t we meet you ladies on the hill?”
I can’t see his face, but there’s no doubt he’s unleashed his Prince Charming smile. The way the pale blond blushes, I’d say it’s working.
“Call her the Bitch again, and you boys will be filming your own Hangover sequel,” says the dark-haired girl. “And, yeah, that was us. It was nice of you to help.”
Nico pushes by me and scans the area outside, his cop instincts on high alert. “Everything okay?”
“We’re fine. We were just heading to our condo and saw you gentlemen in here. Seemed a shame not to thank you for your efforts this afternoon. I’m Raven, this is Lily, and this”—she shoots daggers my way—“is Shay. Not sure if you’re alone, but…” Her charcoal eyes dance the length of Nico’s body.
Sawyer doesn’t miss a beat. “Absolutely. I’m Sawyer, the giant is Nico, and the ‘Asshole’ is Kolton. Although I’m open to the name change.”
Raven walks right in, Nico following her like he’s a compass and she’s due north.
Sawyer looks about to hit on Lily when she says, “I have a boyfriend.”
He stops short, then shrugs. “Since my boy and Shay have some unfinished business, you’re forced to hang with me just the same.”
She bites her lip and steps inside, leaving me with a stunning, slightly intimidating woman who is attempting to murder me with her eyes.
The two of us face off, not speaking. There’s no question she looked hot in her ski clothes, but her tight skirt combined with the fuck-me boots have me itching to unzip her bomber jacket and peek inside. And, man, that curly hair of hers is wild and begging to be tugged.
“Mind closing the door?” Nico calls.
“And not ogling me,” Shay says. I meet her gaze, and her eyes flare. “If you get out of the way, I can step inside.”
And here I thought my bad day was almost done.
Instead of biting back, I lean around her to close the door, then head to the kitchen, needing more than a beer to get through this night.
Two fingers of amber liquid and an ice cube later, the women have shrugged off their coats.
Nico and Raven are talking tattoos, while Sawyer goes on about Lily’s purse.
Shay leans against the counter, holding the glass of wine Nico offered. “She made that,” she tells Sawyer, gesturing to Lily’s purse. “Each one done by hand with recycled materials. She sells them to some indie stores.”
“Seriously?” Sawyer tilts his head and rubs his jaw, no doubt putting on his Moondog hat, seeing all the funky designs he can base on the concept. “What’d you use for the sides? Is that…” He turns the small bag over in his hands. “Is that from a skateboard?”
Lily leans forward. “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s been done before, but I cut the boards into small pieces and sand them down so they’re not too thick.
I apply them in geometric patterns, you know, like a mosaic?
But that’s on top of material I salvage from vintage leather jackets.
That way, the purse and shoulder strap are soft.
Flexible? The two materials are contradictory, but they work together.
I like playing with the juxtaposition.” She sits straighter, eyes darting, as though she just remembered she has an audience. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to ramble.”
Sawyer massages his jaw some more. “No, no. It’s interesting. I’ve never seen it done this way.”
He glances up at me and raises his eyebrows, silently asking if it’s okay to talk Moondog with these women. Not happening. The way Shay went Terminator on me earlier, I have no interest in giving her personal information.
I shake my head and Sawyer glares, but he doesn’t break our code.
Lily focuses on our ski jackets. “You guys are from Vancouver, right?”
“Are you suddenly clairvoyant?” Raven asks.
Lily tips her chin to our jackets. “All their stuff is Moondog. There are three stores in Van, and I think they’re planning on opening one in Toronto this summer. Until then, BC is the only place to buy it, aside from online. But I don’t think I’ve seen that blue jacket offered.”
Lily is on the loveseat, Sawyer kitty-corner on the couch, and he inches forward. “Good call on Vancouver. But how do you know Moondog?”
I try to catch his eye, but he won’t look my way. Bastard. He better not go there.
She shrugs. “They’re kind of the hottest thing in outdoor wear these days.”
Sawyer drags a hand through his hair. “What do you think of this year’s winter line? Of the women’s jackets?”
If he didn’t ask the question, I probably would have. You can’t pay for this type of honest, unbiased feedback. As long as they don’t know who we are, I’m all for the intel.
Lily, however, is in no rush to offer her opinion.
She picks at a rip in her jeans, then she says, “I don’t know.
I mean, it’s clever—fashion-forward. But they don’t have the pulse on what women want.
They design what men want women to want, if that makes sense.
” She cocks her head and studies Sawyer. “Are you in fashion or something?”
I smack the counter and laugh before the dude can screw us over. Last time we told a random woman we owned Moondog, Nico almost had to get involved; the texts and calls neared stalker level.
“Sawyer?” I laugh harder. “The guy’s in insurance. He just likes to dress nice to impress the ladies.”
Nico snorts, but Sawyer seethes. If looks could kill, I’d be riddled with bullets. He plasters on a smile. “Yeah, well, we can’t all be fancy hairstylists like you, can we?”
Point and game. Fucker. “No, you can’t,” I say, my grin as forced as his.
“What about you?” Raven asks Nico. “Esthetician?”
He chuckles. “Not in this lifetime. I’m a cop.”
They’re next to each other, on the opposite end of the couch from Sawyer, and she inches closer to Nico. “That I can handle.”
He hangs his arm over the back cushion, his huge hand coming to rest on her shoulder. He whispers in her ear, and her hand moves to his thigh. Definitely a connection there, and I smile for my friend.
“So, hairdresser, huh?” Shay’s leaning on the kitchen counter, her hazel eyes no longer stormy.
“Can’t deny the passion when it comes calling.” I am going to kill Sawyer.
“Guess not. And you do have good hair.” Her gaze lingers on my ponytail, then drags down my long-underwear top and settles on the area around my belt buckle. “Good hair,” she murmurs again.
Her eyes flick up to meet mine, and damn—that look. Lids lowered, lips parted.
The Bitch is flirting.
Maybe today won’t be a total fail, after all. Maybe I don’t have to wait until tomorrow to break my dry spell. If her quick temper is any indication, Shay is likely a tiger in the sack.