Copper Creek: A Sawyer's Ferry Novel

by Cate Ashwood

  Once they were done, they’d shown us to the mud bath where they’d left us to relax for forty-five minutes, and I’d watched with joy as Barrett had lowered himself in.

  “This is better than being out in the wild?” he asked incredulously, as soon as the two women were out of the room. “You were so cranky about having to be out in nature, but how is this any different? We’re soaking in it. Up to our nipples in mud. How is it better?”

  “Shh. You’re ruining my Zen. I need complete tranquility in order to let the minerals soak into my skin. You think I got this pretty by accident?”

  “I think you were born that pretty.”

  “Aw. You think I’m pretty.”

  “I think you’re goddamn gorgeous, but you already knew that.”

  “Mighta had an inkling,” I said, giving him the flirtiest look I could muster through the fog of relaxation.

  “You’re having a good time?” he asked. “This was a good idea?”

  “The best time. The best idea,” I assured him, letting my head fall back against the terry cloth–covered pillow behind me. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this good.”

  “Not last night when I made you come hard enough that you almost fell over in the shower?”

  “That was pretty good,” I teased. “But there wasn’t Alaskan mud involved, so…”

  “You’re a brat.”

  “You’re just figuring that out now?”

  Barrett closed his eyes and rested his head against his own pillow, and beneath the warm mud of the Alaskan glaciers, Barrett wrapped his hand around mine.

  Barrett

  Say what you want about getting slathered with mud and then sitting in a tub full of fucking kelp, by the time Frankie and I had been scrubbed, buffed, and rubbed down, there wasn’t a single bone in my body that didn’t feel like jelly.

  Well, maybe one.

  But it’d take a while for me to make use of it because I could barely summon the energy to stand. Looking over at Frankie, I didn’t need to guess he felt the same. He looked happy and boneless and spaced-out. The only other time I’d seen him like that was right after he’d come. I planned to find out if that level of relaxation could be compounded.

  We made it back to the room, carrying our clothes in paper bags printed with the spa’s logo, still wearing our robes. Neither of us gave a shit if anyone looked twice. The robes weren’t coming off until we were good and goddamn ready.

  Frankie collapsed on the bed, flopping back into the mountain of pillows, groaning in pleasure and closing his eyes. I grabbed the remote and climbed onto the bed, maneuvering in behind him and pulling his back against my chest.

  He nestled in between my legs and let his head fall back against my shoulder as I flicked the TV on. Oceans 11 was playing on TBS, so I tossed the remote down next to Frankie and settled in.

  When the movie ended, Frankie shifted to look up at me.

  “Today was…” He trailed off, his voice going soft.

  “Yeah. It was.” I kissed his hair, inhaling the scent of the conditioning treatment Ana had used. “You wanna pick a place for dinner? Anything you like.”

  “What do you think about not going out for dinner.”

  My stomach rumbled, protesting the idea. “We’d have to raid the minibar.”

  Frankie laughed. “I meant we could order in. Room service, or Chinese, or pizza.” He lifted my hand to his mouth, kissing my palm, then down along the inside of my wrist, sending sparks through my veins.

  Things with Frankie and me were still brand-new, but even the simplest touch set me on fire. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if there wasn’t an end date on this, if I’d always feel like this.

  Frankie traced his lips along the underside of my forearm to the crook of my elbow. “What do you think? You wanna stay in or go out?”

  Given the option of Frankie, naked and willing under me, or food, I might very well starve. Frankie won, hands down, every fucking time.

  I reached down and wrapped my hand around his cock. He was already hard, precome beading at the tip. He moaned as I began to stroke.

  “Inside it is.”

  He whimpered as I tightened my grip, and his hips lifted off the bed, thrusting into my hand. I listened for the hitch in his breath I knew was coming as I traced my left hand over his chest, tweaking one nipple with the downstroke. He arched into my touch, and then he was climbing up and out of my lap, brushing my hands away as he shifted positions.

  With practiced movements, he grabbed the box and tossed the last few condoms out onto the bed. “Need to stock back up tomorrow,” he said, the words muffled as he tore the wrapper open with his teeth.

  “Need to buy stock in the company tomorrow.”

  Frankie laughed and rolled the condom down over my cock, slicking me up at the same time. We had this down to an art, like we’d been doing this for decades rather than weeks. I’d come to know his body as well as mine—I knew what he liked, I knew what he loved, and I knew what drove him absolutely fucking wild.

  I ran my hands up his thighs, tightening my grip over his hips as he straddled me and lowered himself down. I pushed inside like I was meant to be there, like being connected to him like this was the only way either of us was complete.

  The satisfied sigh he let out when he was fully seated over me made my heart stutter. I loved making him feel good. I was the only one who could make him feel like that.

  He gripped the headboard above me and started to move.

  I let him ride me, setting the pace he wanted, the intensity. It was slow and languid tonight. Neither of us were in a hurry to get to the end. If I could, I’d have drawn it out forever. I let my hands roam over his body, physically mapping every curve and angle. I watched him, taking in the way his chest rose and fell each time he sank down on me.

  The light coming in the window behind him, shining through his curls, and how his skin seemed to glow even without the aid of cosmetics made him look almost angelic. And as much as he could be a brat, push my buttons because he liked to, give me shit just for the hell of it, he possessed more angelic properties than he did devilish.

  He was radiant and self-sacrificing, and he could even be humble when the mood struck him just right. Most of the time, the blustering outlandishness was a façade. At first, all I’d seen was the veneer of glitter and tough-guy disguise, but now that I’d gotten underneath all that, I saw him for who he was.

  I was consumed with him, so focused on Frankie and Frankie alone, that nothing else in the universe mattered but him as I thrust up into him, wanting him to feel as overwhelmingly good as I did. And as his head fell back and his eyes fell shut, he gave himself over to the pleasure, and I was struck with a stunning realization.

  I didn’t just care about him.

  I was in love with him. Deeply, profoundly in love with him.

  It was that thought that tipped me over, and I emptied inside him, holding him as tight as I could, as though if I kept a firm enough grip on him, the end of August would never come and I’d never have to let him go.

  “I could eat the entire left side of the menu,” Frankie said, his eyes getting wider with each line he read. “I am so fucking hungry.”

  “Order whatever you want. It’s our last morning here. Might as well make the most of it.”

  “It’s been a good weekend.”

  “The best one I’ve had in a long time.” I reached across the table and gave his hand a squeeze.

  “You have any more Juneau deliveries in the next two weeks?” he asked hopefully.

  “I’ll have to check when we get back. I don’t think so, though.”

  Frankie shrugged. “There’s a thousand things I still need to do for Holden and Gage’s wedding. I’ve been… distracted.”

  “You complaining about it?”

  “No, but if I’ve forgotten to order the tuxes and the boys have to walk down the aisle naked, I’m gonna blame you.”

  “Why are they naked?”

>   “Birthday suit is the second most impressive suit besides a tux.”

  “Is that a scientific fact?”

  “Anecdotal… though I haven’t seen you in a tux, so I’m forced to rank your birthday suit above it in this case.”

  “I’m okay with that.”

  “You should be. It’s the best I’ve seen.” He winked at me, and I felt a flush of heat.

  Being in with Frankie in Juneau felt different than being with him in Sawyer’s Ferry. There was still some concern about being freely affectionate in public—this was still Alaska and not San Francisco—but we were a little more anonymous here.

  Of course there were a handful of business contacts who knew me, but no one from my personal life.

  “Barrett?”

  Well, almost no one.

  I looked up to see one of my exes standing over the table. “Katya, hi.”

  “What are you doing here?” She leaned down, giving me a clear view right down her top. I shifted my eyes up.

  “Deliveries.”

  “And you didn’t call me.” She swung her hip and lowered herself down to the booth next to me. “Not very nice of you.”

  Frankie looked between us, his gaze darting back and forth, and I could almost hear him trying to work out the details of our relationship in his head.

  “Katya, this is Frankie. Frankie, Katya.” It turned my stomach to introduce them, and when she hooked her arm around mine and reached across the table to shake his hand, leaning into me as she did, I felt even worse.

  “How do you know Barrett?” Frankie asked, a sudden detachment to his voice, like he was trying very hard not to sound interested at all.

  “Oh, me and Barrett go way back, don’t we, babe?”

  “Katya is from Sawyer’s Ferry,” I said, as though that explained everything. But of course, there was more to the story than that, and Frankie knew it.

  “That’s right,” she crooned. “Used to run around in nothing but our diapers together.”

  “How sweet.”

  “Are you new to Sawyer’s Ferry? If you were from there, I’d know you.”

  Frankie looked like he was suppressing an eye roll. “Not new. Not staying. Just visiting. Temporarily,” he added.

  “Make sure you stop by Sweet Cow Creamery for ice cream. It’s the best in the state.”

  “Barrett took me last week.”

  Now it was Katya’s turn to play detective. She was staring at Frankie, with his perfect curls and purple nail polish. The way his cheeks almost sparkled with something called highlighter, I’d learned.

  “Then you’ve seen the best of Sawyer’s Ferry already.”

  “Apparently.”

  “How did you and Barrett become friends? He’s not exactly the poster boy for outgoing and friendly around town.”

  “I work for him.”

  “Oh!” It was as though that explanation had checked some box for her. “So you brew beer.”

  “No, I take care of the admin.”

  “You’re his secretary.”

  The back-and-forth was picking up speed, words flying across the table with a subtle undertone of condescension, mostly coming from Katya.

  At the time, it hadn’t occurred to me to worry that she might have figured out the situation without being told. Frankie didn’t exactly scream heterosexuality, and I had no idea how long she’d been watching us. But all I could think about in that moment was how Frankie was feeling.

  He had to have been caught off guard. Hell, I’d been caught off guard.

  Though he wouldn’t have seemed fazed to a stranger watching on, I knew him well enough that I could see the edges of his cool fraying just a little.

  Frankie

  This bitch could not be fucking serious.

  I wanted to launch myself across the table at her and strangle her with her knockoff Gucci purse strap.

  I took a silent breath to try to calm myself.

  If I’d met Katya under any other circumstances, I’m sure she and I would have probably gotten along just fine, but watching her touch Barrett, listening to her flirty laugh and the way she lowered her voice a little when she addressed him directly, filled me with this uncomfortable sense of anger.

  And it was fucking stupid.

  I had no claim on Barrett.

  He was free to do whatever and whoever he wanted, but coming face-to-face with his past over the breakfast table… it wasn’t what I’d expected, and now that it was here, I fucking hated it. I didn’t want to know about it—in this case, ignorance was definitely more blissful that whatever the hell it was I was feeling now.

  Before I’d arrived, he’d had a life, and that life had included Katya and her bouncy boobs and heavy-handed eyeliner, apparently. And once I was gone, his life would presumably pick up right where it’d left off.

  I was a fling for him—a fun experiment that was easy and safe because there was an expiration date. Two weeks from now, I’d be thousands of miles away, and Barrett could look back on our two months together as that time he’d ventured out of his usual routine.

  The thought of him hooking up with Katya, or Brandy, or Tiffani, or whoever the flavor of the day was, made my stomach turn and my skin prickle.

  What had started out as a fun—a no-strings-attached way to keep myself entertained while I was in what felt like the smallest, most boring town in the country—had become so much more.

  I was falling for him.

  It was the only explanation for why I felt the way I did.

  I’d never been in love before. I’d dated plenty of guys. Some lasted, and some didn’t, but I’d never felt like this before. It had to be something at least approaching love.

  Fuck me.

  This hadn’t been the plan at all. I had no idea where to go from here.

  The drive back from Juneau had been mostly quiet—devoid of conversation at least. I’d claimed wanting to make the most of more than one radio station while we could, but the truth was I didn’t want to talk to Barrett. I didn’t want him to know I was feeling so fucked-up.

  I was jealous and I was confused, and I didn’t know what to make of any of it, because none of this was supposed to happen.

  At all.

  And least of all, in fucking Alaska.

  It wasn’t Barrett’s fault. I was the one who’d suddenly changed the rules of the game halfway through playing. But what now? Did I tell him I was falling for him and that the thought of never seeing him again after the wedding made me feel like barfing?

  Did I play it cool and pretend I was completely ambivalent? Spend the rest of my time with him acting like it didn’t matter, like going back to New York wasn’t suddenly the most unappealing idea ever?

  Neither of those sounded like good options, so I employed a time-proven technique against heartbreak: avoidance.

  After Juneau, I threw myself into wedding mode. There were only eight days left until Holden and Gage ended up hitched, and a thousand things to do before then. There was so much to do, it almost felt like a legitimate reason why I hadn’t seen much of Barrett since we’d gotten back.

  I’d cut my hours down at the brewery. We were almost done updating all the systems anyway, and it didn’t make sense for Barrett to keep paying me for work he didn’t need done. Especially since I was needed so desperately elsewhere.

  At least, that’s what I told him.

  Turned out, Gage and Holden might have been the most laid-back husbands-to-be on the face of the planet. Neither one of them was even slightly ruffled as the big day approached. I was sure I could have told them the barn burned down, their officiant took off on vacation, the caterer was shut down for health code violations, and the displaced barn cat ate their cake, and they would have both smiled and shrugged and given me some vomitworthy version of “at least we still have each other.”

  Still, there were a ton of last-minute details to work out, and I was glad for something else to focus my attention on.

  “Hey, stranger.”
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  Before I could turn, Barrett had his arms around my waist, his lips pressed against the side of my neck, and I shivered at the contact. It felt so damn good when he touched me, like everything else stopped for that brief moment. I leaned into him, enjoying the warmth of his body and the strength of his grip on me, just for a second.

  “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming back,” he murmured.

  I turned and he kissed me, his hand splayed on my back to support me. He tasted like coffee and desire.

  “Well, you don’t need me for much—”

  “I need you for lots of things.”

  He kissed me again, and I let myself get lost in it for a minute longer.

  “You free tonight? I was thinking you could come over and we could order Pacey’s and sit and watch that show you like with the clothes designers. I PVRed a bunch for you.”

  “I can’t tonight. Holden needs me to help him write his vows.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “We’re finalizing the guest list for the caterer and going over the seating chart.” His shoulders slumped, just a little. “But you’ll be at the bachelor party.”

  “Yeah.”

  I nodded and stepped out of his arms. “Good, then I’ll see you then. Right now, I gotta get going. I’m meeting Holden for an appointment with the florist.”

  As I started toward the door, Barrett grabbed my wrist and pulled me back toward him. “Is everything okay?”

  I forced myself to make eye contact. “Of course.”

  “Frankie.”

  “What?”

  “Are you being honest?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? Everything’s fine,” I assured him.

  “It seems like you’ve been avoiding me.”

  “I’ve been busy. The wedding is almost here, which is the reason I’m in Sawyer’s Ferry. I procrastinated on a lot because I had other things going on, so now I’m trying to catch up at the last minute. That’s all.”