Page 19 of Not Your Average Vixen
Then his words drifted back to her.
You’re the most stifled, stuck person I know. I feel sorry for you, Bridget.
The last thing she wanted or needed was anyone’s pity.
She shook off her ex-boyfriend’s assessment of her character and stared down at her tattered napkin, embossed with the outline of the Rocky Mountains. She’d landed in Denver to find the city at a standstill. Mother Nature had blown into town with arctic temperatures and two feet of snow. There was no way she’d be able to make it to Kringle Mountain today, so she booked a night at the hotel adjacent to the airport. Lucky for her, they’d had one room left.
The bartender gestured to her empty glass. “Would you like another, miss?”
She wasn’t a big drinker. A glass of wine, here and there. But what did she have to lose? She wasn’t driving anywhere—nobody was. She nodded to the man, then took the chance to sneak another peek at the handsome stranger as he sipped a tumbler of whiskey and checked his phone.
She drank him in. It wasn’t like her to swoon over a man. Who had time for that? But he’d rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, exposing tanned, muscular forearms. A curl of dark hair fell forward, and as he reached to brush it out of the way, he met her gaze.
One beat, then two. She focused on two intelligent, cat-like eyes staring into hers. Her mouth went dry, and she licked her lips. Could it be the altitude? She wasn’t in Texas anymore. Even in the midst of a snowstorm, it was dry as hell in this city. But this rush of heat felt like a lot more than merely the effect of an arid climate. She pressed her thighs together, released a jagged breath, then broke their connection.
What was that?
The bartender returned with her Chardonnay, and she gripped the stem and took a long sip, trying to get her bearings.
“Birdie!” came an urgent voice. “Are you there, or did I lose you to that hotel hottie?”
She’d almost forgotten she was on the phone with her sister.
“I’m here. Sorry, I’m really in my head. I must be tired from traveling,” she lied, still reeling from the intensity of catching the man’s eye.
“Travel or not. Tonight, you’re a woman of mystery. Tomorrow, you’ll be on your way to my wedding. A nice one-night stand could help you unwind, big sis. The three orgasms I had with Tom have put me in a great headspace.”
Bridget groaned. “I don’t want to hear about my baby sister’s multiple orgasms. I’m happy you’re happy. Let’s leave it at that.”
Perhaps Lori was on to something. Blowing off a little sexual steam with a handsome stranger might be what the doctor ordered. And she needed to be on her A-game tomorrow. Once she arrived at Kringle Mountain House, nothing was going to stand in her way of Lori’s wedding—especially not a killjoy named Scooter.
“Oh, and I should let you know that Scooter is going to be here for the week, too,” Lori added.
Bridget ripped a corner off the poor napkin. “I thought he was flying in the day of the wedding and leaving the next morning.”
“Nope, and Tom’s thrilled that he changed his mind,” her sister answered.
Lori tried to sound upbeat and supportive—that’s who her sister was. But she could hear the worry in her voice.
Crap!
Now she would have to pull off this wedding and keep an eye on this asshat the entire time!
She took another sip of wine. “What made him change his mind?”
“I don’t know. He texted Tom early this morning to tell him that he was catching a flight out today,” she answered, sounding matter of fact as she went into lawyer mode.
But the strained tone betrayed her words.
Bridget started in on the cocktail napkin’s opposite corner, twisting the paper as she tried to piece together what would have caused the best man’s change of heart.
“Does he ski? Could he have seen the weather report and decided he wanted to get in a few days on the slopes?” she ventured.
Lori released a pained sigh. “Yes, he skis, but I’m not convinced that’s the reason he’s coming early.”
Heat that had nothing to do with the wine warmed her cheeks. She’d managed Gaston Francois for six years. Granted, that didn’t end well. But all she had to do was run a little interference with a jackass of a best man. This Scooter would be nothing compared to what she’d dealt with over the years.
“Don’t give him a second thought. Do you think I’d let some jerk screw things up? I’ve always been in your corner,” she said as a surge of determination accompanied the alcohol circulating through her bloodstream.
