Page 74 of Love Under Snowfall

“It’s all in a day’s work,” he chuckled to the wide-eyed bartender, whose mouth hung open like something shocking had just happened. Zac licked the lemon drop from his lips and used a couple napkins to dab the rest of the sticky drink as it dribbled through his trimmed beard. “Shot of tequila. Make that two.”

A solid hand clamped onto the back of his arm and Zac prepared himself for the brotherly razzing of his best friend. But when he turned, instead of Jonathan, Miguel stood there with a dark scowl and some pretty impressive nostril flaring.

“Can I talk to you privately?” At nearly forty, Miguel was the oldest member of their friend circle and never missed an opportunity to act like the patriarch of the group. The frequency of his advice and heart-to-hearts had increased since he’d become a dad last year, as though knocking up his wife gave him infinite wisdom that he felt compelled to bestow on the rest of them.

“Later, pops. I’m about to down these two bad boys and make my way to the dance floor.”

“You really think that’s a good idea?”

Zac inclined his head and gave a wink as he shot back the tequila in rapid succession. Spitting the lime rind into one of his napkins, he hissed at the campfire burning down his throat. “Best idea I’ve had all night.”

Brushing past his friend, bumping shoulders just enough to not be taken as an overly aggressive gesture, Zac settled his eyes on the pint-sized target he’d been trying to nail for years: Frankie Miller.

The blonde bombshell stood a few feet away, hands on her hips, face contorted in a chastising scowl fit for an uppity school teacher. He’d be all too happy to take a ruler to the knuckles if it meant she’d be the one doling out the punishment. The dayshe’d turned twenty-one was the day Zac had launched Operation Nail Jonathan’s Little Sister. And while the mission name lacked a certain finesse, his various attempts had run the gamut from exceedingly clever to downright blunt.

Unfortunately, nothing had worked.

But imbued with numerous doses of liquid courage, despite the rage that radiated off of her like cartoon squiggle lines, he saw the virtue in making another attempt.

Even though another woman had just thrown a drink in his face.

Even though two large men were holding a subdued pissing contest to win her.

Even though he already knew what she would say.

Because either she’d finally crack or it would be another humorous rejection to file away under “Zac’s Failed Attempts.”

“I must not have made myself clear earlier.” Her sharp words landed like a soft leather flogger on his chest. Stinging yet offering tingles of pleasure with every scolding syllable. The ice in her usually warm amber eyes complemented the cool velvet of her incredibly sexy maid of honor dress. Cut low and slit high, the getup showed off the lush curves she’d brought back with her from her first term at NWU. He’d always found her tight and sexy, fit from hiking, climbing, and rafting, but her new, more shapely design made his mouth water. “What the fu—”

In a hail Mary, he swept his arms around her and twirled her onto the dance floor. Shocked at his boldness, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she gripped his arms with nails clawing through his button-up shirt, his tuxedo jacket abandoned somewhere long ago.

“There. Isn’t this better?” he crooned, eyes sweeping over her lovely—if fuming—face, the pulse pounding in her neck and chest heaving against the confines of her dress.

“What is your problem?” she all but shouted, but remembered she’d been about to chastise him for making a scene, so she lowered her voice. “You are behaving like a damn child, and you need to knock it off. Now.”

“I’m no child, Francesca,” he smirked. “Just a man going after what he wants time and time again.”

“You’re immature and insane.” He bristled at her sneer.

“I prefer youthful and optimistic.”

“You can prefer all you want, but to everyone else, you come off as a useless ass.”

Zac casually glanced around the room. Everyone watched them. Including Benjamin.

FuckingBenji.

The “best man” who swooped in after years and years of being a shit friend to Jonathan. Zac had been there, day in and day out, standing by Jonathan through the good and bad. He should have been the best man, not some snooty law guy who gets everything he wants. Taking everything Zac had been working so hard for.

“I have to know.” He plastered a grin on his face, knowing full well his eyes displayed more bitterness than warmth. “Did you fuck him?”

“Excuse you?” Frankie recoiled as though she’d been slapped.

“Your professor. In the cabin. I wouldn’t blame you. Life and death situations make people do irrational things all the time.”

“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’re concussed from Bethanne’s slap earlier and let you retract your words and apologize.” She shoved at his chest then practically growled as his hands stayed firmly planted at the small of her back.

“I imagine you need a pallet cleanser after subjecting yourself to the rigid and unimaginative sex that walking wet blanket gave you. Maybe that’s why you’ve been throwing yourself at CaptainClint over there. But you’re fooling yourself if you think either could compare to what I’d be able to—oof!”

---