by Kelly Alexis
We all relaxed, and a couple of people gave him their orders for different levels of cook. One woman even asked for a vegetarian meal, and Clint took it in stride. I had no doubt he already knew all of our preferences and was prepared for them. Nothing seemed to be left to chance at Breathless.
After he left, we took turns transferring some of the appetizers to our individual plates and started eating. Of course, they were delicious. I would have expected nothing less. Shanna served us our drink orders, then went into the kitchen to help Clint.
"So, what do y'all do?" a pretty young woman asked in a sweet Southern accent. "I'm Darla, and I work in advertising in Atlanta."
"Justin, and I'm a stockbroker from Tampa," her date informed us.
I had no idea whether they had arrived at Breathless as a couple or even if they were seriously involved. They seemed friendly with each other but not particularly intimate. That could indicate either a very new or a very old relationship.
"I'm Carl, and I'm an attorney in Denver," one of the other men volunteered.
"And I'm Penny, a psychologist—actually a marriage counselor from LA," the woman with Carl spoke up as she picked up her martini. She gulped down her drink and set the glass down hard on the table. "And I'm going through a bad divorce. Irony, huh?"
Everyone murmured their sympathetic responses. I felt bad for her, knowing it must feel like a double failure to her. How could she feel confident about helping couples fix their marriages when she hadn't been able to save her own?
"I'm Wyatt West, originally from Oklahoma." The singer seemed almost shy as he introduced himself.
"Hey, weren't you on TV?" Darla asked. She leaned toward him and stared with open admiration.
"Yes, ma'am, I was." Wyatt had a charming aw-shucks attitude that made him seem humble and slightly awed at his own success. "It was a couple seasons ago. I was on Team Blake."
"Oh, right! I remember now. You were fantastic. I voted for you." Darla scooted her chair closer to him, dropping poor Justin as if he was suddenly invisible.
"Thanks, ma'am. My album went platinum, so I must have done something right. But I'm here to entertain you folks tonight. Blake actually discovered me singing in a little bar in Dallas. He talked me into entering and even got me an audition on the show. I owe my career to him, so he lets me spend a few weeks at Breathless in exchange for some songs." He chuckled. "I figure it's a win-win for me."
Everyone's focus turned to Frisco. I was a little nervous at what he might say. Hi, I'm a gigolo. Anyone want my card? I'll be available after Sunday.
"And you guys?" Carl facilitated the last of the round-robin introductions.
"I'll start. My name is Samantha. I have a marketing degree, but I'm currently unemployed and will be looking for a job as soon as I get back to Denver."
Carl gave me a smile that was a little friendlier than I thought was appropriate, all things considered. "Give me your number. I'm active in the Chamber of Commerce, and I'm sure I could help you find something…exciting."
"Thanks." I kept my tone light, but I had no intention of giving that guy my personal information. There was something a little sleazy about him. I couldn't put my finger on it exactly, but I didn't want to get to know him better.
"You're next," Penny said, turning her attention to Frisco. She was clearly more into my date than she was into hers.
"My name is Frisco, and I specialize in…customer service." He glanced down at his drink to break eye contact with the group, but I saw one corner of his mouth lifted in a grin.
"You look really familiar." Carl's eyes narrowed as he stared at Frisco.
Frisco met the man's gaze steadily. "I took a couple of classes at CU a long time ago. Maybe we bumped into each other there."
"Maybe." Carl didn't seem convinced, but he didn't have time to challenge Frisco's answer, because Clint and Shanna came out of the kitchen with our salads. The meal progressed through perfectly prepared steaks, huge baked potatoes, and crisp, fresh asparagus, followed by decadent molten chocolate cake for most of us and a plate of beautifully cooked vegetables for Penny.
We all got to know each other better, and it soon became clear that everyone had come to Breathless to get over something traumatic and that their dates tonight were more convenience than long-term. They all seemed to be in various stages of temporarily, at best, hooking up.
It occurred to me that that was probably the norm at Breathless. People arrived wounded and broken, had a fling and a facial, then left feeling prettier and with their self-confidence restored. That certainly applied to me. I couldn't have felt more worthless when I left Denver. But Frisco made me feel beautiful and interesting and powerful in my womanhood.
The niggling reminder that all of the women lucky enough to have his attention probably felt the same way pushed into my thoughts, but I shoved it back. Tonight, was fun, and this was probably the most normal situation he and I would ever be in. No one questioned our relationship or suspected things weren't as they seemed.
Truth was everyone was caught up in their own agenda—Darla, in trying to flirt with Wyatt, Penny, in trying to get knock-out drunk, Carl, in trying to impress us all with his status, and Justin, in despair as he tried to win Darla's attention back.
Wyatt handed out small pads of sticky notes and pens to us and said, "Every night, I play my favorite songs, but here's your chance to let me know what you want to hear. Maybe you used to be with someone else when you heard it, but this is your chance to make it yours by creating new memories."
Frisco picked up a pen and wrote a title on it, shielding it so I couldn't see, then folded it and dropped it in an empty glass that Wyatt held out. Not to be outdone, I wrote down my request and added it to the glass. Some people passed, willing to let Wyatt choose his own playlist, but others dropped in requests.
Frisco and I sat on one of the oversize armchairs, with me on his lap as we enjoyed a mini concert by Wyatt. He was really talented, and we listened attentively until he eased into Eric Clapton's "Wonderful Tonight." Frisco gently picked me up, standing me on my feet before pulling me out to a bare spot on the polished wood floor that was perfect for dancing. He took me into his arms.
"May I have this dance?" he asked formally, although we were already swaying in time to the music.
"Of course." I took his hand and rested my other hand on his shoulder as we moved around the floor. I knew without asking that this was the song he had requested, and it touched me to my very core. As I listened to Wyatt West singing a very credible version of the haunting song, I had never felt so happy and so sad at the same time. This was definitely creating a new memory for me, one that I would cherish for the rest of my life.
"Are you having a good time?" Frisco whispered in my ear.
"Wonderful," I answered, echoing the song. "You're a great dancer."
"Thank my mother. She made me take lessons when I would rather have been out playing football. She may not have stuck around long, but she made an impression while she was in my life."
"Thank you, Mrs. Thorne, for creating such a wonderful man."
He chuckled and dropped a kiss on top of my head.
Carl gave up on Penny being able to stand upright and asked Darla to dance. Not to be outdone, Justin pulled Shanna out from behind the bar, and it became a dance party.
Wyatt didn't stop but segued from one song to the next, alternating between slow belly-rubbers to fast rockers to country. I had never done a Texas two-step, but Frisco was a great teacher—as if I ever doubted that—and we were soon moving around the floor as if we had danced together many times before.
"I don't know who requested this song, but it sounds like one of you young ladies has a man who won't commit," Wyatt said before starting the first few notes of "Desperado."
I didn't want to admit that that was my request, but I could tell by the look in Frisco's eyes that he knew. He didn't speak but pulled me against him until our bodies touched from chest to knee. I circled my arms a
round his neck and rested my head on his shoulder as our feet barely moved. I knew I would never be able to hear this song without remembering this moment.
"You better let somebody love you…before it's too late." Wyatt sang the final words, allowing a moment of silence before switching to a fast-paced country song.
I was determined not to let anything break the mood as Frisco and I joined the others in a line dance. We'd all had a lot to drink, and when one dancer made a wrong turn, it took all of us down. We ended up in a pile on the floor, laughing and exhausted.
"I think it's time we took a break," Wyatt announced and pulled the strap over his head before setting his guitar back on its stand.
We all clapped and whistled, then headed to the bar. Shanna's hands flew as she filled our drink orders in record time.
We were heading toward one of the couches when I noticed a red glow outside the windows and nudged Frisco. "What's that?"
"Let's go check it out," Frisco suggested and took my hand.
We stepped into our boots, grabbed our coats off the hooks, and stepped outside to take a quick look. Clint was standing next to a roaring bonfire and beckoned for us to come on over.
"I've got all the fixin's for s'mores," he announced as we got closer.
Sure enough, on a stone table near the fire pit was a bowl of large marshmallows and a platter heaped with Hershey's bar squares and graham crackers. Clint held out a long, clean stick.
"Help yourself. This is the one thing I can't cook better than anyone else." His sun-weathered face cracked into a grin.
I took one of the sticks and speared two marshmallows on it. "Have you and Pete worked here since Breathless opened?"
"We were here before they were." Clint snorted.
At my confused look, he continued. "We worked for the rancher who used to own this property. When Blake bought the place, lock, stock, and barrel, he asked us to stay on. Hell, I was thinkin' of retirin', but where else could I have a job where I have to cook one meal four days a week and get paid as if I was putting in forty hours?"
"Sounds like Blake's a good boss," I commented, standing as close to the fire as I dared, to soak in its warmth.
"He's the best," Clint agreed. "We're just a coupla old cowboys, and he treats us like we're somethin' special."
"I have to say that I'm really impressed by all the employees I've met," I told him. "You're all pretty special."
My marshmallows chose that moment to burst into little fireballs. I pulled the stick back and blew on it until the flames went out.
"Think they're done?" Frisco teased, looking pointedly at the charred marshmallows.
"I like them like that," I replied and quickly assembled two graham cracker and Hershey bar sandwiches around the marshmallows while they were hot enough to melt the chocolate. I bit into one and let the delicious mix of flavors melt on my tongue.
Frisco leaned over and spoke softly into my ear. "You're making me jealous. I'm supposed to be the only thing that can make you look like that."
"Look like what?"
"Like you're having an orgasm without me," he whispered.
I shrugged and replied with a twinkle. "I don't know. This is pretty good."
"I guess I'll have to work harder." He nibbled on my earlobe, sending shivers down my nerve endings.
"You're on fire," Clint stated blandly.
"Yeah, I know," Frisco answered.
"I mean on fire! Your stick is burnin'." Clint nodded toward Frisco's marshmallows that were charred beyond salvage.
Frisco jerked his stick back, blew out the fire, and held it out to me. "Here, I cooked these for you."
I laughed and shook my head. "Oh, no. I like mine with a nice crispy black jacket but still all white and gooey inside. Yours are chunks of coal."
He shook them off into the fire and put two new marshmallows on his stick. "You distracted me." He gave me a little hip bump and a smile.
"Hey, what's going on out here?" Carl shouted.
"S'mores," Frisco answered, holding up his two fresh marshmallows before thrusting them into the flames.
Everyone except Penny, who was probably passed out on the couch by now, bundled up and joined us around the fire. Wyatt came out with his guitar, and we sang along to every Christmas song we could think of until the fire burned down to embers. The lack of heat sent us back indoors, but almost immediately, Pete announced that it was time to head back to the hotel.
"Anyone who would rather have a warmer ride can join Clint, Shanna, and Wyatt in the Sno-Cat," Pete added. "There's room for four more." He glanced over at Penny, who was snoring loudly. "Make that three."
Carl spoke up quickly. "Count me in on that."
Darla was only a second behind him as she looked at Wyatt, no doubt thinking about cuddling up with him on the ride back. "Me, too."
Without enthusiasm, Justin looked at us, the only couple left to ride in the sleigh. He was, no doubt, imagining how depressing it would be to be a single on that cold ride back, so he, too, volunteered. "Yeah, I'll ride in the Sno-Cat."
"Okay, you two brave souls, suit up. We'll be leavin' in fifteen minutes." Pete headed outdoors to get the horses ready.
We took turns in the restroom before pulling on our snow pants, scarves, stocking caps, parkas, and mittens. We said our good-byes to Clint, Shanna, and Wyatt, as well as the wimps who were opting out of the freezing sleigh ride, then headed outside.
Frisco and I stood together, our arms locked, and stared down at the twinkling lights of Aspen. It looked like a fairy village nestled in the valley.
"It's magical." I breathed out a frosty cloud.
"Yes, it is," Frisco agreed, hugging me close.
Right on cue, Pete drove the sleigh up to the front door and stopped the horses. The big animals were restless, anxious to get going so they could be back in their warm barn with a generous portion of oats. They shook their massive black heads, causing the bells on their harnesses to jingle raucously.
Pete hopped down, opened the door, and lowered the stairs. Frisco helped me in, and we headed to our favorite seat and quickly piled all the blankets we could find on top of us.
"Is everyone comfortable back there?" Pete asked after he had climbed up to his seat.
We called back muffled affirmatives, and he slapped the reins on the horses' backs.
"We'll be back in the lodge in about thirty minutes. Hall and Oats move a little faster on the trip home."
The sleigh jerked forward, jostling us even closer together. The lights of Highland Manor quickly disappeared behind us. The air was frigid, and we pulled the blankets all the way up to our eyes. The almost full moon hadn't risen yet, and the night was pitch-black.
Suddenly, a shooting star streaked across the sky, trailing a brilliant fluorescent green tail behind it.
"Oh, look!" I exclaimed.
"Make a wish," Frisco reminded me.
I closed my eyes and mentally voiced my wish, knowing it was an impossibility but compelled to think it, anyway. I want to meet a man just like Frisco…in the real world. When I opened my eyes, I saw Frisco staring down at me. Without speaking, he pulled the blankets over our heads and kissed me so thoroughly, my toes curled inside my boots. It started innocently but quickly heated up. Frisco took off one mitten, and a few seconds later, I felt his hand burrowing under my sweater. I jumped when his cold fingers touched my warm breast, and my nipples popped to attention.
He rolled one puckered nipple between his fingers, and it worked like an on switch, immediately sending my blood racing through my veins. I gasped as his hand moved lower, slipping beneath the layers of my ski pants and my stretch pants, then under the final barrier of my bikini panties.
His fingers pushed aside the lips of my vulva and found my swollen clit. He rubbed slow, teasing circles around it that wound me up like a clock. The whorl in the pit of my womb tightened and ached to feel him inside me, which was, of course, a physical impossibility, considering the circumstances.
"You okay back there?" Pete called.
"Just fine." Frisco pushed his head out of the blankets long enough to answer, then returned his attention to me. His fingers continued their rhythmic plunge, tweaking my clit with every movement.
My legs straightened, and my feet pushed against the back of the row in front of us as my orgasm built. I stuffed the blanket in my mouth to keep anyone from hearing me as I cried out when ecstasy ripped through me.
"You sure?" Pete asked again. Apparently, some of my sounds had escaped.
"We're good," Frisco answered. I couldn't see it, but I could hear his satisfied smile.
"Shit!" I muttered into the blanket. "How do you do that to me…every time?"
Frisco removed his hand and pulled my sweater back down. "It's not me. It's you."
"Me?"
"You're the one sending me the messages. I'm just paying attention to what your body is saying. Any man should be able to."
"No man has before," I admitted.
"Then it's their loss, because your body is very eloquent."
I chuckled at that. His analogy was funny but endearing. I hadn't realized that my body could make itself heard, and it was touching that he had taken time to listen.
He pulled me against him, and we snuggled together in comfortable silence for the rest of the romantic ride down from eighty-three hundred feet to the Breathless Lodge. Pete stopped the horses at the back door and helped us climb down. Pete had a knowing glint in his eyes as we passed him, but he didn't comment as we told him good night and hurried inside.
Chapter 9