by Tess Oliver
Nix and Rett's chairs scraped the floor as they sat up straight.
Scotlyn covered her eyes. "Oh my gosh, I can't watch."
I held my breath and watched in terror.
Clutch vaulted up into the air and bunched his legs up to avoid the little girl, who was savvy enough to duck. He tucked under and somersaulted heels over head before landing flat on his back deep in the snow. The little girl fell over, but it seemed more out of shock from seeing a massive man catapult over her than from any source of injury.
I shot out of my chair and pressed my face to the window. My heart was racing. "Do you think he's hurt?"
"He's getting up." Nix sounded just as out of breath as me.
Many of the other patrons in the lodge had seen the whole thing. Clutch sat up and a woman two tables over began a round of applause.
Clutch peeled himself out of the hole he'd created with the weight of his body.
Rett put his hand to his ear. "I can hear the long string of cuss words right now."
Clutch's gray and black gear was covered in snow as he stood up.
Cassie failed in her attempt to stifle a laugh. "Oh my gosh, he looks like the abominable snowman from Rudolph."
Dray nearly fell out of his chair with laughter. "My friend, Big Foot."
My face was still pressed against the window. I smiled at the comments, but my heart was still racing from the possibility that he could have hurt himself.
Clutch took his board off and then stomped over toward the little girl. It wasn't an angry stomp. It was a frantic stomp. He leaned down over the little pink and purple pile of snow gear and lowered his hand to her. The girl's doll-sized pink glove was swallowed up in his giant black one as he helped her to her feet. A woman, who by the ashen pallor on her face, was the little girl's mom, came hiking across the snow to where they were standing. She smiled and said something to Clutch. If she'd been watching like the rest of us, I'm sure it was a big thank you. Clutch had launched himself into the air, risking every kind of injury imaginable to keep from plowing into her little girl. He was quite the hero of the day. Of course, he was already the hero of my heart.
"Ah, what a big sweetie," Scotlyn gushed. "He pretends to be gruff, but he's just a big softie."
I walked back to my seat, but where I really wanted to head was outside and into the arms of the snow covered bear trudging down the hill.
"Looks like he's heading inside. I say we invite him to sit with us. He deserves a reward." Cassie waved over Molly, our server. "Hey, Taylor, he likes onions but no pickles, right?"
"Yes and extra cheese."
Molly came over. She was smiling and shaking her head. "Boy, you think you see everything when you're working here, but that was a classic. That guy sure was quick on his feet out there." She tilted her head to get another look out the window. "And from here, he looks extra big."
"He's six foot six." I wanted to add my usual ending of—and he's all mine. Not being able to say it just felt wrong. He was mine. Clutch had always been mine, just like I'd always been his. He was my very own, magnificent Viking. He was stubborn and charming and smart and pig-headed and he had an appetite to match a Grizzly bear, but he was mine.
"Six foot six," the server repeated with an edge of something that sounded like lust.
"We'd like to order him a burger," Cassie spoke up.
"Oh, right. What did you want on the burger?"
"One burger?" Nix's laugh caught the server's attention. She flashed their table an overly gracious smile. "Are you boys still here? Guess it's better inside than out tonight."
Nix smiled in return. "Yep, warmer in here." He motioned his head our direction. "But I have to say, there's a little chill coming from that direction."
It took Molly a second to puzzle out that we knew each other. "Oh, you're all together?" She pointed with her pencil toward Clutch, who was sitting on the bench outside taking off some of his gear. "So, he's with y'all too? Which lucky woman does he belong to?"
Everyone's instinctual reaction was to look my way, but the embarrassed gazes were pulled quickly away and cast every direction except toward me. Molly seemed to sense it was a loaded question and changed the subject. "Onions and pickles?"
I smiled up at her. "No pickles. Extra cheese too. And can you make it two burgers?"
Molly laughed. "I'll bet one burger is just an appetizer for a man his size." She walked away and made sure to circle in the direction of the door where Clutch was just walking in. Another round of applause rocked the already noisy lodge. Clutch looked baffled and glanced back over his shoulder to see who had followed him inside.
Rett laughed. "Did you see that? He's like—who the fuck are they all clapping for?"
Dray waved his arm. "Hey, somersaulting Sasquatch, over here."
"Excuse me." Cassie shifted around in her chair. "We just ordered him a burger. We've got a chair for him right here." She patted the seat in case it needed pointing out.
Rett lifted the pitcher on the table. "And we've got the beer. Guess we'll see which he'd prefer, hamburgers with the ladies or beer with his best friends and brother."
Clutch walked through the tables, and I was shocked and darn dismayed to discover that my hands were trembling. It was as if I was back in my teen years having to remind myself to breathe and not hyperventilate at the sight of him. When his gaze went straight to me, I had to shove my hands into my pockets to steady them.
Nix pushed out a chair and nearly tripped Clutch. "Have a seat, buddy. You're a hero tonight. And we've got your beer."
Rett reached for the pitcher and poured the beer. Clutch's blue gaze flicked my direction several more times.
Scottie pushed out the chair next to her and patted it. "Come sit here, Clutch. Let me look at your pupils and check things out to make sure you didn't hurt yourself out there." She punctuated her suggestion with her generous smile. I wondered briefly how many patients fell in love with the woman while she tended to them in their hospital beds.
"We ordered you two burgers," Finley added with her own sexy smile.
Clutch walked toward the men's table. He loomed over it for a second, then picked up his beer. "Sorry, the smiles are much prettier at the other table. And they've got burgers." He lifted the glass. "Thanks for the beer." He ignored the feigned, indignant grunts of his friends and circled around to our table. He sat down next to Scottie. "I'm ready when you are, doc."
Scottie leaned closer and opened his eye wide. Then she checked the second eye. "Feeling dizzy or nauseous?"
"Nope, just hungry."
Scotlyn sat back. "He's fine."
Molly was more than pleased to deliver the burgers to the table. She pulled her phone out after she placed the burgers down. "You're already trending." She flashed a flirty smile at Clutch.
"I am? I can't be the only person in here who can eat two burgers?"
Molly laughed. "Oh my gosh, big, beefy and a sense of humor. How great." She lowered her phone in front of him and looked around the table at us. "That guy over there in the red beanie just happened to catch the somersault on video."
Clutch stared at the phone and shook his head. "Just what I want—a million views of my ass flipping through the air." He handed Molly back her phone.
Clutch stared down at his burgers but before taking a bite he looked around for the ketchup bottle. It was sitting right in front of me. His gaze lifted to my face, and for a second, the crowd, the noise, our friends disappeared and it was just the two of us exchanging a long glance. I felt it all the way through my entire body. I was starved for his attention. I craved his touch, his kisses, even his sarcastic wit. I needed my Clutch back. No amount of success was going to be any fun without my giant hunk of a man to share it with.
I picked up the bottle and held it out to him. His eyes never left my face as he reached out to take hold of it. His fingers, still cold from the outside air, pressed over mine for much longer than necessary. Cold fingers or not, by the time he pulled his han
d away, the heat from his touch had traveled all the way up my arm and straight into my heart . . . where it belonged.
Twenty-Three
Clutch
The women were still doing their own thing, seemingly enjoying the time together without our interference. Their hasty plan of a separate vacation in the same house would have been funny a few months ago, but it was nothing short of torture for me with the current state of my relationship with Taylor. Our fingers had only grazed each other's over a bottle of ketchup, and it was all I could do to keep from lunging across the table, sweeping her up and carrying her out of the lodge. It had been too damn long since I'd touched her. All I could think about was the lemony smell of her shampoo, the ticklish place on her lower back, her soft sighs when I kissed her. It might just have been wishful thinking or even the haze she'd created in my head by just being near, but I sensed she was feeling the same way. We needed to put an end to the rift in our relationship. So the new tensions between the men and women of the house, however thin and humorous they were, could not have come at a worse time. Taylor had to stay loyal to her team. I couldn't blame her for that. She considered Scottie, Cassie and Finley her best friends, and being the youngest, she always followed their lead. I would never think about getting in the way of that. I only wished that the women hadn't decided to peel away from the men on this particular occasion. It seemed, once again, the mighty Norse gods were working against Taylor and me.
Dray dealt the poker cards with all the enthusiasm of a kid about to sit in the dentist’s chair. The women's collective laughter in the kitchen dragged his focus that direction, and the next card he flipped flew past me and off the table. It landed face up on the floor between Rett and me. It was a king.
I picked it up.
"Give it back to the dealer," Rett suggested. "I saw that one."
"Which is why you want me to hand it back." I picked up the first two cards the half-assed dealer had shot across the table. There was another king in my hand. "I'm keeping it."
Rett leaned back. "I fold."
Dray, whose focus had still been on the female filled kitchen, finally turned his attention to the game. "You can't fold, dickwad. We haven't even put money in the pot."
Nix reached for the deck in Dray's hand. "Don't bother working in Vegas. Push all the cards this way, and I'll deal a new game."
Dray gave up his dealer's position without a fight. "I'm going to get a beer."
Nix motioned toward the bottle in front of Dray. "You haven't touched that one."
Dray shrugged and stood up. "I know. I'm just curious about what's going on in the kitchen. I'll just do some investigating and see if I can't try a little diplomacy. I mean, look at this place." He waved his arm around the vast great room, a massive room with a natural stone fireplace that was bigger than the front room of my house. The place oozed mountain luxury. Whether it was in Beverly Hills, or Malibu, or Lake Tahoe, Nicky King knew how to live. "I don't know about you three, but I'm not climbing into that big comfy bed alone tonight," Dray continued. "I came up here for some good old fashioned winter fun—snowboarding, sipping cocoa and sex. Not necessarily in that order. In fact, definitely not in that order."
"Sit down," Nix said calmly as he began dealing a new round of poker. "Diplomacy is a good idea, but you're last on that list. If we send you in there, we're likely to have the women ignore us all the way until next Valentine's Day."
Rett's chair scraped the floor. "Obviously, it should be me."
I leaned back and stared at him. "I think that's only obvious to you because you can't see clearly around your overblown head."
Nix finished dealing and tapped the remaining cards against the table to straighten them. "It should be the big, somersaulting hero. After all, they invited him to sit at their table and even bought him burgers."
I picked up my hand. No kings this time. "I'm not going in there. Let them have some time. Besides, I'm pretty sure, either way, I'm going to bed alone tonight."
Dray sat down hard on his chair, picked up his hand and frowned at it. "Fuck."
Nix shook his head. "Way to keep a poker face, buddy."
After several more rounds, our spirits sank more. The mood was definitely grim as we played out our hands, but the girls left the kitchen, giggling and having a blast. It seemed we were missing them far more than they missed us. Once the flowery scent of their perfumes, shampoo and general sweetness followed them out of the room, a mouth-watering aroma drifted toward us from the kitchen.
Rett lifted his nose like a dog trying to catch a scent. "Damn. I think they're making cookies."
"Told you I should have tried some diplomacy," Dray growled. "Now they're going to be nibbling buttery cookies and they're all going to look hot and sexy doing it and we'll be stuck here at the card table staring at each other's ugly faces."
"Hey, speak for yourself." Rett threw down his cards. "I fold." He looked back toward the kitchen. "Wonder what kind they made."
Nix moved the cards around in his hand. "I saw Cassie with a bag of chocolate chips."
Dray's feet stomped the floor as he folded his hand. "She knows those are my favorite. That scheming little—" His words fell off as something behind me caught his attention. The soft laughter and voices fluttered into the room.
We all tried to look fully absorbed in our game as they sashayed past us wrapped in beach towels. The bare legs and feet signaled we were in for another round of agony. The game table was set up so that we had an unobstructed view of the deck. The hot tub glowed blue and then pink and then yellow as bubbles floated up and frosted the top of the water. Steam rose off the surface like pale smoke from a chimney.
Nix reshuffled the cards, but, like the rest of us, didn't take his eyes off the amazing towel parade unfolding in front of us. A burst of cold air seeped in as the women slipped outside. They instantly broke into squeals as the frigid air and icy deck touched their bare skin. They hurried to the hot tub. Towels came off with a flourish.
"Fucking hell," Rett muttered.
Dray picked up his bottle of beer and looked as if he might crush it in his hand. "Now, they're just being mean." His face lit up with an idea, which was usually not a good thing. "Hey, we should scare them while they're out there."
"Did you bring your Halloween mask or should we just have you press your face against the glass door?" Nix asked dryly.
Dray sat forward with enthusiasm. "Look, two of us can go outside to that little gate in front of the trashcans. They are just below the far corner of the deck. We'll clang the lids and make it sound like a bear is digging through the trash. Then the girls scream and jump out of the pool and run inside for protection."
"I like it," Nix said.
His response surprised me. I looked at him with question.
"You and Rett go outside and play bear," Nix continued. I caught the teasing glint of sarcasm. I already knew where this was headed. "Clutch and I will stay here and catch the girls in our big strong arms."
"Great plan." I lifted my fist, and Nix bumped it. "Of course, Dray has obviously forgotten which four women are sitting out in that hot tub. I predict a whole different reaction than them running inside for protection. Finley will probably come inside to get the bear some cookies. Cassie will follow Fin in to grab her camera to snap some pictures for Instagram. Scottie and Taylor, who both pull on sweatshirts if the temperature drops to eighty, will probably stay tucked in the hot bubbles figuring the cold would be worse than a bear."
Nix looked at Dray, whose shoulders sank with each of my comments. "Clutch is right. The only way Scottie would climb out of that hundred degree water is if the bear actually climbed in with her and even then, it's not a sure thing."
"Besides, bears sleep in winter." Rett added money to the pot.
Dray tossed his hand. "I'm out. Can't get a break this weekend on anything."
"I don't know why I'm bothering to help you with this since I'm sort of the fifth wheel in the rear of the car, but if you j
ust adjust the thermostat down a little, even two or three degrees, the sun-loving Southern California snowflakes outside will probably be too cold to sleep. They'll come looking for body heat." I smiled to myself thinking about how many times Taylor had climbed into bed and stuck her icy feet against me to warm them. I always complained about it, but secretly, I loved it. And man did I miss those cold feet now.
I lowered my flush to the table with a smug grin.
"Shit," Nix groaned and tossed down his cards. "Do you ever fucking lose?"
"I make it a point not to." I swept the money in the center of the table toward me.
Dray leaned back. "I like the thermostat idea. Mostly because I've got nothing else. Rett, do you know where the controls are in this place?"
"Nicky sent me a checklist of things to turn off when we leave. We could mess with the temp a bit and see what happens."
One hour later, the four of us leaned against the slick granite counter with droopy, loser faces munching the rationed plate of cookies we were given. We'd turned down the temperature in the house, but it had been a waste of time. While sitting in the hot tub, the women had hatched a plan to have a slumber party in front of the massive stone hearth. There was more than enough room for all of them to sleep and keep their feet close to the glowing logs. No need for a warm body at all.
Rett returned from the refrigerator with the milk. "At least they left us some cook—"
Dray lifted his hand to silence him. "They're back," he said under his breath. It was almost like we were bird watchers camouflaged behind the kitchen counter waiting for four rare species to appear.
The women ignored us completely as they busied themselves setting up a cozy row of pillows and quilts.
"How the heck do they make flannel pajamas look that hot?" Nix poured a glass of milk but didn't pull his eyes away from the slumber party as he drank.
Dray grabbed the milk next. "This is torture. If they start a pillow fight, I'm walking out that door and jumping right off the fucking deck."
Rett laughed. "This is torture? I've seen you face down on a mat with your arm twisted like a fucking pretzel behind your back and you still never tap out. But four women in pajamas—" His comment drifted off with his attention as Finley got down on her hands and knees to straighten out her quilt. "Fuck. Head out there, Dray. I'm right behind you."