by Nicole Casey
Did I drunk text Damien last night?
Sitting up, I scrolled through my messages and exhaled with relief.
No, Laz Payne had consumed so much of my thoughts, I had all but forgotten about my cheating ex.
It was a pity I’d never see the ranger again.
With great effort, I pulled myself to my feet and ambled toward the ensuite bathroom, each step harder than the previous one.
There was no way I was going to make it through the day. Not with eight shrieking women and a hangover from hell.
I started the shower and brushed my teeth to eliminate the spiderwebs on my tongue. My gut rocked mercilessly as I swallowed mouthfuls of water but I knew I needed to get hydrated.
Damn, the water was so good!
It was fresher than any I could ever remember drinking but I reasoned that had more to do with the fact that I was literally dying. It might have been laced with E. coli and I probably still would have thought it was amazing.
The shower helped, if only a little and when I slipped into a simple green sundress, pinning my auburn waves onto my head with minimal effort, I was beginning to feel partially human again.
I made my way down to the main floor where the others had arrived, their loud voices meeting my ears well before I laid eyes on them.
“I was just about to come looking for you!” Britta cooed when I appeared. “You look like shit.”
That was easy for Britta to say. The girl woke up with her makeup already done. Seriously. She had eyeliner tattooed on her lids, eyelash implants and a natural bronze glow which didn’t require a lick of foundation.
“Thanks,” I muttered and the rest of the bridal party laughed.
“I hope you’re going to be able to keep up this weekend, Aye. We’ve got a lot planned,” Gennifer jeered at me.
“Keeping up has never been my problem,” I assured her but even as I spoke, I felt my stomach lurch slightly. Oh God. If I threw up, I’d never live this down.
“Here,” Kennedy murmured in my ear, thrusting a champagne flute into my hand. “Drink this.”
I looked at her in disbelief but she nodded encouragingly.
“It’s the only way you’re going to make it through.”
“DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!” the other women chanted and I stifled the urge to scream at them to shut up. My head was still pounding relentlessly.
I also knew that Kennedy was right—if everyone was going to make it out alive, I’d need to keep drinking.
Not just from a physical standpoint but from a psychological one too.
As I sucked back the mimosa in the glass, I eyed Kennedy warily. I hoped she knew what she was doing because I wasn’t sure I did anymore.
* * *
The liquor did help some and when we went to the spa for our scheduled massages, I permitted myself to fall asleep for the ninety minutes as the masseur worked at my body.
Somewhere between wakefulness and sleepiness, the woman working on became Laz, his strong, firm hands working along the kinks in my shoulders.
“You’re so tense,” he growled in that deep, hypnotic voice.
“Am I?” I mumbled as Laz worked down along the curve of my back, toward my ass.
“Tight,” he breathed, the sensation of his breath causing goosebumps to explode over my body.
“How does that feel?” he murmured, his breath hot in my ear. I felt my pelvis rise as his hands worked not-so-inconspicuously under the sheet, cupping my ass cheeks before maneuvering them back along the cracks of my butt.
I sighed, moistness dampening the linen beneath my thighs and I relished the weight of his strong chest over the flat of my back, pinning me down. His lips were inches from my skin and I arched upward, willing him to kiss me.
I felt the jut of his tongue over my spine and I mewled softly while his finger slid inside my bucking center. I soaked him with the first thrust of his index finger. He added his middle and I groaned loudly, feeling a rush of wetness flow through me. My clit was throbbing and I knew I wanted his mouth against it, sucking on me, bringing me to a climax I could already feel mounting inside me.
Without warning I flipped over, but he was already prepared for that. Of course he was—this was my dirty fantasy.
Instantly, his tongue flicked out to sample the juices of my drenched vulva, prying my legs fully apart to explore me as his crotch pressed against my cheek.
My hand closed around his huge, pulsating shaft and I angled my head to taste him, gasping when his tongue lunged fully inside me.
Guiding him inside my mouth was easy until he filled me fully and I was gagging on his rigid, perfect cock.
Without missing a beat, he fell into rhythm, his mouth suctioning over my clit, making loud, lapping noises while his hips sank against me.
“So wet,” he breathed, his words only bringing me higher into the ecstasy I was feeling. “I knew you’d taste this sweet.”
I groaned, unable to hold back anymore, my release gushing from inside me to spill over his mouth in a rush.
My body shook beneath our 69 position but Laz didn’t slow his groove, the feeling of his sack tightening against me telling me that he was about to join me in this haze of pleasure.
“I’m going to come down your throat,” he rasped. “Are you ready for me?”
I could only mumble an answer, my mouth full—
“What was that, Ma’am?”
The masseur’s voice brought me back to the present and I almost jumped off the table in shock and shame.
My thighs were drenched to the point where I knew when I got up, my excitement would be noticeable.
“What? Nothing!” I muttered, knowing my cheeks were scarlet. I’d never been so grateful for a face portal in all my life.
“I had thought you fell asleep,” she chuckled and I laughed weakly.
“Me too,” I mumbled as she finished up.
I didn’t move until she left, the memory of the dream (daydream or whatever that wet dream sequence had been) etched into my mind.
I sat up, slightly light-headed but I didn’t waste any time getting dressed. We had lunch reservations at one of the restaurants and I couldn’t help but hope that it was somewhere that I might run into Ranger Laz again.
* * *
“You look more alive,” Kennedy commented when we met at The Range restaurant. It wasn’t anywhere near where I remembered the café from the previous night but that didn’t mean that Laz couldn’t show up, did it?
“I’m still a little worse for wear but I’ll survive,” I replied, sitting beside her. “How was your massage?”
“Actually, I feel better than I have in months,” Kennedy chuckled. “You have no idea how much stress you can acquire without noticing. I felt bad for my poor guy’s hands, working out all those knots.”
“You should be glad your biggest stress is your kids,” I said without thinking. I hadn’t meant it the way it sounded but Kennedy’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t knock it until you try it, Ayla.”
“I’m just saying, at least it’s the kids that are stressing you out and not bigger problems,” I continued, like an idiot instead of walking it back.
“Bigger problems like living off your daddy’s money?” Kennedy barked back in such an uncharacteristic sharpness, I balked.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Woah!” Britta laughed, leaning across the table. “What’s going on over here?”
“Nothing,” we answered in unison, staring at one another with anger.
“You two need to have a drink. How can you be stressed out after those massages?” Kyla called. “Garcon!”
She snapped her fingers rudely and a waiter shuffled forward. Under normal circumstances, both Kennedy and I would have corrected her rudeness but we were too busy glaring at one another.
“Get those women some shots. Tequila.”
I started to protest but I changed my mind. This weekend was already going to shit and it was bound to get worse.
I was going to do nothing but drink my face off and act like the insipid, puerile bitch Kennedy just accused me of being.
“Bring the bottle,” I glowered, turning away from Kennedy. The others whooped and cheered at my announcement but Kennedy didn’t crack a smile.
Not only was I going to have to deal with her all weekend, I’d have to ride home with her in the car for thirteen hours too.
Not if I book a flight the hell out of here tomorrow, I thought. I’d had enough of the weekend.
It was time to go home.
5
Laz
The summer weekends were never a good time to be on patrol up in the mountains, especially not near the resorts where the immature rich kids were spending daddy’s money and drinking too much.
Labor Day was the worst because they were getting the last of their jollies out on the unsuspecting staff who worked tirelessly to accommodate them.
Like the girl from the night before, Ayla.
Over the past two years, I had gotten used to the wealthy overtaking the mountains, pretending to “rough” it with their five-star surroundings. It made me long for the off-season. Even the blizzards were easier to deal with than the stumbling kids who wreaked havoc on the amazing surroundings I had come to know as home.
Sometimes I forgot that I hadn’t lived in Gatlinburg my whole life. The way of life was worlds away from the bustle of Knoxville, even though it was all I’d known.
The job was a blessing and had done something for my peace of mind.
Or at least that was what I told myself.
As I steered my Jeep through the mountainside, the majestic resort loomed clearly and I braced myself for what I might find beyond the imposing gates.
Truthfully, it had been quiet all day but it was only Friday. The worst was undoubtedly yet to come.
As I punched in my code to permit myself through the wrought iron entranceway, I found myself thinking about the stunningly attractive nuisance from the night before. Ah, who was I kidding? I’d thought about her a few times over the day. I wondered if she’d sobered up enough to at least feel embarrassed for the partial scene she’d caused at the Lakehouse.
Probably not. Girls like her don’t feel remorse. They just throw money at the problem and hope it goes away.
But a part of me didn’t believe that about this girl and I couldn’t say why. Yes, she’d acted like a brat, walking around with her bottle of tequila not unlike dozens of others I’d seen on my tour as a ranger. Yet there was a sadness to her, one I recognized all too well.
It was why I had offered her a ride back to her cottage.
I had half-expected there to be a call back to the resort last night, one that involved this Ayla Winter or maybe that was just wishful thinking.
Still, I slowed down as I passed by the cottage and saw two girls sitting on the second storey veranda, laughing hysterically. The curtains were open and I realized that the party was in full swing inside, a sea of females drinking, music echoing toward me. I slowed the car, feeling something like a stalker as I searched for the lithe beauty I’d met the night before but from where I sat, I couldn’t see her.
Move it along, Ranger. Nothing to see here.
I was only on patrol for another hour, the stop at the resort unscripted. I considered going to the Lakehouse for a beer but for some reason, I wasn’t in the mood.
Maybe because I knew I wouldn’t see Ayla there tonight. She was obviously with her friends.
Not that I wanted to see her again. I had no business hanging out with a rich-kid who clearly had problems of her own.
That was not what I needed—another woman with more problems.
I made my way to the top of the resort and headed back through the rear exit, one which was not protected by a gate. There was no need—it was virtually impossible to access the resort that way unless you were a local and knew all the hidden roads to get there by car. Even if someone did venture through, they’d be caught in minutes and one of us would be radioed to escort them out.
It had happened maybe twice before.
But it was eerily dark in that part of the mountain woods and even with my high beams on, I had to drive slowly. Those creatures I had warned Ayla about were very much a threat. They would do more damage to my Jeep than I would to them, I was sure.
My cabin was three miles beyond the back exit of the Mountainside and I was looking forward to having a shower and catching up on some Netflix.
Matthews had been right when he said there were perks that went along with the job. Suddenly, I slammed on the brakes.
There was a figure slumped against a tree, her hair falling over her face as she appeared to be crying.
I knew who it was even before I stopped the Jeep, an anger flaring in me. What the hell was she doing out there, so far from the resort?
I had my answer in seconds.
The smell of alcohol hit me almost full force as I approached her, flashlight in hand.
Oh Jesus Christ. She’s a lush.
Her head whipped up and she gaped at me in shock.
“Ranger Laz?” she gasped, relief coloring her face. “Is that really you or am I dreaming again?”
She was rambling.
“It’s me,” I replied slowly as I neared her. “Are you hurt? Why are you crying?”
A grimace formed on her pretty face but even so, tear-streaked and a mess, she was still shockingly lovely.
You’re just a glutton for lost causes, a little voice in my head squeaked at me. I shut it up instantly. I wasn’t doing anything that I wasn’t supposed to be doing.
She pushed herself off the tree and stumbled toward me, tripping over her own feet. I broke her fall, catching her in my arms and shook my head in disbelief.
“Ayla, what are you doing out here?” I asked again, struggling to keep my tone even. “What did I tell you about wandering around the resort after dark?”
“I’m lost!” she wailed. “I don’t even know where I am!”
I grunted and helped her to her feet but even as we moved back toward the Jeep, I could see her eye lids growing heavier.
Oh shit. She’s going to pass out.
“Ayla!” I growled. “You need to stay awake until I get you back to your cottage, okay?”
Her eyes popped back open.
“No!” she cried. “No! You can’t take me back there!”
I was taken aback by her response.
“Why not? Did something happen?”
Her luminous eyes filled with tears and I felt a spark of alarm touch me.
“What?” I demanded. “What happened?”
“You’re handsome,” she purred, dropping her head back to close her eyes. “I knew you weren’t a dream.”
“Please stay awake and tell me what’s happening!”
A lazy smile formed on her lips but she didn’t open her eyes again. I stared helplessly at her.
“Ayla, wake up,” I growled. “You need to stay awake.”
I couldn’t imagine what it would look like bringing this inebriated woman back to her cabin, unconscious and I couldn’t leave her there if I didn’t know why she’d left in the first place. Were her friends a danger to her?
I thought about the scene I’d left behind at Cottage 16. No one seemed to be missing her in the least. Maybe Ayla had left to diffuse a situation. Maybe bringing her back there would only make matters worse.
I grunted, realizing that her breath had slowed considerably. She was asleep. I could bring her into town and throw her in the drunk tank but that wasn’t how we handled drunk tourists. We gave them every benefit of the doubt.
It was my duty to keep her safe until I knew what was going on.
Nothing is going on, I chided myself furiously. She’s a brat who had too much to drink.
I considered going to the cottage to interview the women but from what I could see, they were just as drunk as Ayla. Getting a straight answer out of anyone that night would not be an easy feat.
I stared at her sleeping form for a long moment, deciding what to do.
Finally, I closed the door quietly and made my way back to the driver’s side, knowing that my next actions were going to cost me dearly if I ever got caught.
I was bringing her home with me.
6
Ayla
It was like that Bill Murray movie, “Groundhog Day.” My head pounded exactly the same, my stomach flipped and I couldn’t open my eyes.
I was hungover for the second day in a row. Actually, it was worse today because even though I didn’t have Gennifer’s irritating voice waking me up, I also had no idea how I’d gotten back to the cottage.
It took every fiber of my being to pry my eyes open.
And that’s when the terror started.
I gasped in horror as I realized that I didn’t know where I was.
Instantly, my hangover was forgotten and I sat up to look myself over. I was still fully dressed in my sundress, my underwear intact.
But I was in a stranger’s bed.
Everything ached and I moved my legs over the side of the bed, looking around the room for clues of who had taken me…or if I’d been taken.
Think! Think, Ayla.
I wracked my brain for where I’d been the previous night.
Things had gone from bad to worse after lunch, mostly because I hadn’t stopped drinking.
I knew it then and I still hadn’t stopped myself but with each minute that passed, I couldn’t help but feel like everyone at the party was looking at me.
At some point, I had just wandered off, another bottle of tequila in hand as I made my way back up the mountain toward the little bar I’d found on Thursday night.
I must have gone looking for Laz but found someone else instead.
I swallowed the sick feeling of shame in my throat and paused at the modest black dresser underneath the window.
In a picture frame was Laz and a beautiful woman with long, red hair and sparkling blue eyes.
I didn’t know if I was relieved or horrified by my discovery.