“If you’re worried about professionalism, then stop. You’re not on the clock anymore, Samantha. And if you haven’t noticed, time stopped existing a few hours back. We have days here, maybe a week, so says the county. They’re tentatively planning to clear the roads on Monday. So we might as well enjoy ourselves for the weekend. It’s not as if we’re not stocked for all the fun to be had.”
I feel silly the moment he says it because he’s right. I’m not on the clock. And it’s Friday. There’s an “and” I should get behind.
I’m looking at everything the wrong way. Instead of freaking out about being snowed in, I need to think:
I’m snowed in at a luxury, fully stocked cabin with four hot guys briefed on the latest storm news and not sweating the small shit.
I’m in good hands.
“Sold.” I smile, taking the glass. “This is probably one of the more bizarre situations I’ve found myself in. And that calls for wine. Also, thanks again for giving up your room for me.”
Alec nods before sipping his scotch, then leans sideways, adding conspiratorially, “Guess what, it has a charger for your phone.”
I smile as he adds, “Plus, I’m secretly glad you’re stuck with us. Want to know why?”
My brows raise, inviting the answer, but I take a sip, hiding how nervous I am being this close to him. This is going to be my own personal horny hell all weekend.
“Without you”—he grins—“I’d be stuck with these idiots drinking too much while they try to out-stupid each other. You have no idea the trouble we manage to get into together.”
My lips rest against the wineglass. The idea of them on their worst behavior is appealing. Alec winks like he’s read my thoughts before finishing.
“But now they’ll be on their best behavior. Unless you request differently.”
“So all the fun’s up to me, huh?”
I meant it innocently, but somehow the raise of Alec’s brows has me blushing again. My head shifts toward the three different Christmas trees that are now shining brightly with twinkling lights reflecting off the dark windows. I take an even bigger swig of my wine, hoping it’ll help me chill out before I try a new subject.
“It’s a shame something so beautiful will go unseen. I’m happy I put the finishing touches on the last one once you held me hostage.”
I look back toward Alec, but Cole catches my eyes. He’s sitting in a high-back leather chair. His black tie is long gone as he undoes the top button of his dress shirt.
Cole was the only guy dressed as if he’d been at work. He probably had been. He seems like the type to never relax, even for a Christmas party. So serious and single-minded. It makes his whole demeanor more severe than the others.
I blink, trying to disconnect from him. But it’s no use because I’m locked onto the way his tongue is trailing over his bottom lip. It’s wiping up the leftover whiskey from the drink he just took. Just as I start to look away, Cole locks eyes with me.
It’s the kind of eye contact that doesn’t waver. The kind that makes you nervous. And the kind that leaves you believing this man can fuck.
Alec’s voice caresses my thoughts as Cole minutely lifts his drink in cheers.
“I think everyone appreciates the beauty within this room.”
Before I can speak, Jace yells my name, pulling everyone’s attention toward the kitchen. Except for mine. No, I’m still staring at Cole. I blink a few times quickly. Hold on. Did I see that right?
Did he mouth what I think he said? No, there’s no way.
But still, I squeeze my thighs together before jerking my head to the side, feeling dizzy.
No more wine for me. Alec said to enjoy myself, but some lines never need to be crossed. Ever.
“Please tell me you know how to cook,” Jace calls out.
I narrow my eyes, ready to mess with him and ignore Cole. “Why? Because I’m a woman.”
“No, because you’re the smartest one here. I assumed self-preservation won out a long time ago over sheer laziness.”
Reed chuckles. “And because you’re a woman.”
“Eww,” I snark but still stand up, walking toward the kitchen. “None of you know how to cook? Seriously? It’s a basic skill, guys.”
“No. But we like to eat,” Reed offers, looking me up and down.
Why does everything these guys say feel like a double entendre? It’s because I’ve worked myself into a horny mess, that’s why. Still, the others smirk. And it feels illicit—so very fucking illicit. Or that’s how I’ll remember it tonight when I’m alone in bed.
I stand quietly while they settle around me, enjoying the view as Reed hops up on the counter, reaching for the cheap bottle of whiskey. But instead of waiting for another pleasurable zinger, I turn to grab for the apron hanging from Jace’s fingers.
But Alec shakes his head, giving me a twirling motion as he approaches. My teeth find my bottom lip again, butterflies erupting as I spin around. His arms encase me, hooking the apron over my head before pulling it snug around my waist as he ties it. Tight. My body gives a little jerk at the end before I feel him close in—his lips near my ear.
“All done. Now be good and get to work.”
For fuck’s sake. Well, I guess we’re all going to get food poisoning.
Because there’s no way I’ll be able to focus enough to make it through dinner without salmonella and E. coli gang-banging this party.
Two hours later, the laughter around the dining table proves nobody died eating the spaghetti I made. Or maybe it just proves that enough alcohol can kill all bacteria. Because the guys have had their fill of whiskey and scotch. But despite my worries, dinner’s been amazing. Electric, even.
“Okay, so tell me, how did you all meet? Did you grow up together? Was this always a bromance for the ages?”
Jace leans back in his chair. “Alec and I played for the Pats and Niners together a hundred years ago. I was the last to join the group. All these assholes knew each other before.”
I look at Alec. “You were a quarterback, right?”
He nods, but Jace huffs, “Quit fangirling. I made him look good with all my touchdowns. So don’t get too dreamy over there, cutie.”
Jace’s faint Boston accent gets stronger when he’s been drinking. I’ve been melting all night, even if I’m laughing currently.
They begin to spar verbally about who the real MVP is, making me smile harder. That is until my teeth find my lip because I’m suddenly picturing them in those tight white pants, helmets in hand, shirtless. I bet their skin always tastes like the perfect kind of saltiness.
My warming cheek meets my shrugged shoulder, brushing over it just as Reed cuts in.
“Remind me how you two manage our company? What’s with all this ego?”
The table erupts with “Come on” and “Pot, kettle” as napkins fly in Reed’s direction. He shifts his body to face me, acting like he’s protecting me from the onslaught, bringing our faces closer together.
His breath is minty. Probably from the gum he’s slowly chewing while staring at me. However, I can’t bring myself to look into his eyes because it feels too intimate…too exposed. So instead, I stare at his mouth.