Baby, It’s Cold Out There
By Victoria H. Smith
GET FREEBIE
Sign up for Victoria’s no-spam newsletter and get a FREE story, as well as exclusive content and other new release goodies.
Further details can be found at the back of the book.
“Boy, if you don’t quit messing around… Don’t make me fly back home and tear that butt up.”
Willa had been at her son for the last ten minutes—the exact amount of time it had taken to get to the bar she’d hyped about. It, amongst the many features of the lodge we’d stayed in, had been the main reason we had chosen Aspen for this weekend getaway, the scenic snowy slopes and its cozy resort a place of rest and relaxation.
So much for the latter.
“We’re supposed to be relaxing, Willa,” I told my friend. She’d been my best friend since childhood.
The bartender stamped a cocktail down in front of me, a brown one with a cinnamon stick peeking from the top. The hot toddy felt warm against my fingers, and I waved my thanks to the bartender.
I pulled it toward me, sighing at Willa. We’d never do anything at this rate, not if she felt she had to discipline Keenan every few minutes. He was staying with his grandma, Willa’s mama, and well… needless to say, the eight-year-old always got what he wanted when it came to her.
Even eating candy for breakfast.
His latest antics had Willa on the phone now, and I lifted my glass, shaking it at her in a gesture indicating that we should get this “vacation” going already. This getaway had been her idea after all.
All for the purpose of getting me away and out of my head.
She lifted her fingers, smiling at me and showing she’d heard me, saw me. But that expression fell the moment sounds of a child came from the receiver of her cellphone.
She turned into the call at the bar, shaking her head of voluminous curls over the phone. She wore them bigger than mine, her curls a bit tighter than my curly waves. Mine frizzed to hell, but hers were always on point, gorgeous with the even tone of her dark skin. Full-bodied and hour glass shaped, this girl got all the attention growing up. I didn’t gain my slight womanly curves until college, but Willa-Jean Murphy never had an awkward period. She was always gorgeous and confident.
And she knew how to speak her mind.
“You know better,” she shot into the phone, pointing, as if the air offended her. Her expression pinched. “I see. You chose to get some distance between us before you start talking to me like this. Boy— Get your grandmama on the phone.”
“Your White Russian, miss,” the bartender said, placing down a dark liquid served over ice. The creamy layer on top made it look super tasty.
He pushed it toward Willa. “Can I get you anything else—”
“Keenan Jerome Murphy. If you don’t put your grandma on the phone, I’m gonna—”
The snip had the bartender and half his patrons snapping back and I raised my hand, trying to assure them everything was fine.
Though, in the back of my mind…
I grabbed her shoulder. “Willa…”
“Mama? Mama,” she said, escaping my hand and off her barstool. She lifted her eyes to the resort rafters, a nice, white spread of “wintery” decorations up there, frosted snowflakes and things.
Willa palmed her face. “I know you know how to take care of Keenan. What did Keenan tell you? I just don’t want him eating candy in the morning. It makes him hyper as hell. And—”
She groaned. “Mama, I’m not questioning you. There are just certain things I don’t want him eating that early. Now, I left a list of things he likes and are okay to eat, did you get it?”
Her face blanched in the next second. “You threw it away!”
This made her grab her purse now, sliding it off the bar, and I let the groan escape this time.
I tilted my head. “Willa—”
She lifted her fingers, mouthing, “Two seconds” to me before tucking the phone between her ear and shoulder.
She put her bag over her arm. “The list wasn’t garbage, Mama. Let me get to some place quiet and I’ll read off what it said to you.”
Some listening followed her phrase. She rolled her eyes and then took her phone from her ear, covering the receiver before facing me.
“Let me just go explain this to her real quick before she has my child bouncing all over the house,” she said. “We’ll start everything right after that. This vacation.”
I almost wanted to tell her it was okay, that we could call it and just… I don’t know, call it and go back? The odds already seemed against us. My mind wasn’t really into being here, hadn’t been since we’d gotten off the plane, and heck, long before that when she’d convinced me to go. I just didn’t want to be here.
I had too much on my mind.
Her shoulders fell upon looking at me. “Don’t look at me that way. Two seconds. I promise. We’re going to make this happen. I promised you a good time, and I’m gonna pull through.”
Backing away, she returned the phone to her ear, the frustrations of what could only be those of a mom on her face as she made her way through the crowded room to take her call. The bar connected to the main entryway of the lodge and a fresh bunch of vacationers came in with the flurries in the air. She bumped into one and I heard her yell something eerily similar to “Watch it, Jackass,” but a little more colorful. She returned her phone to her ear and I smiled a little, shaking my head.
My friend was different, colorful like I said, but she couldn’t pretend even with all the frustrations she had with her mom that she didn’t love the woman.
Her mom was there for her. Impromptu trips like this might not have happened in the past, the two not on the best terms. Willa had Keenan pretty young, and well, that took some time for her mom, only recently coming around with Willa and me being in our early twenties.
People-watching during my waiting for my friend, I caught the lodge’s fireplace, a wide berth of breaking logs and roaring fire.
Feeling inspired by it, I put my drink down on the bar, exchanging it out for a notepad in my purse. It was already full of text.
Wood fire shrimp and grits, I jotted down, my mouth watering at even the thought. I placed the back of the pen to my lips, tapping it before adding, with white wine for the sauce.
I snapped the pad closed, chewing my lip with a smile. The front of the notepad had a piece of masking tape on the front.
Recipes For My Restaurant
I pushed my hand over the cover. Only one more step before I could actually make all the things in here, create all the recipes I’d come up with over the years and share them in my own working space. The bank loan was in progress for my own soul food diner, a combination of my mama’s Southern roots and dad’s New Yorker recipes. It’d be placed right in the heart of Manhattan, the space already picked out. I just needed the money now.
Thinking about my dream coming to fruition, I was only broken out of it when those flurries breezed in again, a group of lodgers in their snow boots and gear coming in from the chill. The party was pretty active, a pack of guys with snow on their coats and red in their cheeks.
And they were good-looking. Like Davidoff-Clear-Water-ad good-looking, walking in with windswept hair and dashing smiles. They all varied in height and build, but one stood out amongst them, a blond taking off his gloves.
Gorgeous like his friends, I took him for the leader. I guess it was something about the way he carried himself. He was solely in the center, smiling, while the chatter went on around him. They also clearly flanked him, in the wings to each of his
strides. One of his friends slapped the hand of another behind him, and then shook the blond’s shoulders, clearly trying to bring him into the conversation.
Maybe he didn’t want to be in it, or need it.
I watched him, large hands pocketing his gloves in his parka. His friends danced around him, doing a “bro thing” I could image with all their excitement.
I tried not to stare, but he made it hard, his jaw strong and lips red. They were blood-rushed, rose-colored like his cheeks. I could imagine he and his friends just got done doing the “full experience” of Aspen, skiing or snowboarding on the beautiful slopes. They all pushed snow either off them or from their hair.
Blond’s hair went messy after he did his and his glove falling from his pocket had him looking down. He dipped to retrieve it and on his way up, he made eye contact.
Eye contact with me?
I looked left, then right. I turned, but nothing changed about the direction in which he stared.
Getting up slow, he shook out his gloves, smiling before lifting his hand and waving slightly.
He is looking at me.
My face went up a full ninety-degrees, my body just as warm. Tingles hit my belly and my heart raced, as I lifted my hand, waving, too.
“Asa!”
Women shouting their way from behind me had me break the connection I had with cool green eyes. At least, a connection I… thought I had.
I truly didn’t and that confirmed, as two brunettes pushed their way from behind me, heading over to the blond and his friends. They all but ignored the sidekicks, though. They apparently wanted the main attraction and they got him, his arm going around the tiny waist of one and the shoulders of another. He kissed that last one, a good smooch right on her cheek and that’s when I palmed my face.
Christ.
I watched the spectacle through the spaces of my fingers, mortified that I actually thought for a minute this guy was looking at me, Mr. Leader-of-the-Bros, Mr. Davidoff-Clear-Water-Ad himself. I wanted to cry, but I kept it in, putting my big girl panties on.
But then he had to come over.
After leaving his friends with a few fist bumps, the blond strode right in my direction. His friends headed toward a set of couches, settling in front of the resort’s large fireplace. They fell into conversation, but the blond himself…
He ended up right at my side, the bar his destination.
The tears actually pricked in my eyes now, sheer mortification, and I actually had to breathe to get myself together. He stood right next to me, smelling like heaven and pine and everything warm and sexy about a man.
You really put him on a pedestal, haven’t you?
I sipped my hot toddy, no longer hot. That didn’t stop the burn, though—that sorta happened when it was chugged.
The brown liquid traveled down in a fiery gulp and those tears pricked again for other reasons.
Blond put his hand down on the bar. “A round for me and my friends if you don’t mind. Heinekens. On my tab.”
A true philanthropist, a nice gesture and probably a nice guy.
I wished I had more booze. He didn’t even look at me as he waited for his drinks, which made me look even more creepy, as I took notice to the fact that he didn’t notice me.
I waved to the bartender, wanting my tab. I covered Willa’s, too. She said she’d be back, but I wasn’t staying. At the current moment, my only objective was getting out of here and recovering some of my dignity.
Waiting on my change, I could only blame my… response to the blond, as a direct result of my insides, a heart that had been more than messed with in the not so distant past.
I obviously wanted attention, wanted something and I’d be lying if I said certain things hadn’t brought me here, ones beyond that of a simple vacation.
Ones that made my friend Willa drag me out of bed. I did that a lot lately—sleeping more than I liked.
Shaking my head, I thanked the bartender for the service, leaving a few dollars for the tip.
“You look like a woman who needs a drink.”
The voice wasn’t the blond’s, though. He still stood beside me, waiting on his Heinekens, but the words came from the other side.
I looked up to a tower, a lanky one at best.
This guy was not my type, too much gel in his hair and wearing his mom-made knitted sweater. He also wore cologne that was very much not Davidoff Clear Water.
I didn’t want attention that badly.
I moved to get off my stool. “No, thanks. I’m actually just leaving—”
“Oh, come on,” he said, grinning at me. The expression was more than fact and filled with nothing but what I could surmise as intention.
He had intentions, ones I had a feeling I wanted nothing to do with.
He shrugged. “You may have had a drink, but it wasn’t with me.”
And thank God for that. His cologne choked me, as he got closer.
I put my hand out, my attempt to keep him from making any more steps in my direction. They weren’t wanted or welcomed.
“No, um—”
“Hey.”
Smells of heaven, pine, and everything sexy about a man surrounded me, as someone touched my arm from behind.
Warm breath touched my neck. He was close, too, slightly above me, as he stood and I still sat.
“Is that guy giving you a hard time?” he whispered, managing to lean in even closer. “If so, I’d like to kiss you. Get him to back off? I won’t if you don’t want me to. Just look at me if you don’t.”
I was afraid, too afraid to turn around and decline what he said.
Too afraid I’d regret it.
Still behind me, he squeezed, clearly taking my lack of action, as a yes. It was a yes. It was, as he gently nudged me off my chair.
Turning me around, he pulled me into his arms and I floated there, eerily, as if on a cloud.
He was even more handsome up close, eyes of a wintergreen color, passionate. His hand went to my neck and I forgot that guy. I forgot how uncomfortable he made me and that he was even still standing there behind me.
I forgot the original reason I was here, my escape.
He folded me into his arms, this stranger, his body a warm hum against mine, and his lips…
They melted me, like fire against the icy conditions outside.
His parka was open and my fingers smoothed down what felt like chiseled rock. I think he was wearing Under Armour, and the material moved over his body like a second skin, his chest pure steel underneath my hands.
I honestly didn’t know what to do with them, my body, or, or… my mouth, but it seemed that didn’t matter. This guy handled all that, his hands in the most perfect places. Intimate, while appropriate.
Warm lips brushed mine, as they parted and like before, he didn’t look at me. Just over my shoulder.
Apparently, someone had been staring dumbfounded behind me.
I knew because I turned. The guy from the bar who hassled me was standing there, stark still with his jaw dropped.
The blond put his arm on the bar behind me. He left space between us like he didn’t just kiss me, close but not touching.
He smiled at my not-so-wanted visitor.
“Who’s your friend, babe?” the blond asked, innocently like we weren’t strangers ourselves. Like we’d been together forever.
Folding my arms, I leaned back into him. It felt naturally to… to play along.
“Just leaving,” he said, and I watched as what the blond did/said actually worked, watched as the man walked away.
It actually worked.
And my lips still burned.
I put my fingers to them, feeling that heat. I turned, to do what, I didn’t know.
Should I thank him, or…
But it seemed he didn’t want thanks or really anything at all.
He nodded at me, then the bartender with readied drinks got the blond’s attention in the next moment. He accepted them, going about his business to get them
together, and I just stood there as shell-shocked as the first moment I laid eyes on him.
I’d felt on a high just a moment ago.
“Um, uh…” I started, playing with the lengthy sleeves of my sweater. I didn’t know what to say.
But then he faced me, doing that smile of his again.
“Hey, uh, bartender?” he said to him. Though, he stared directly at me. “Get this woman any drink she wants. Again, on my tab. She deserves it after what she just went through. That guy? Well, then me.”
I blinked that he actually put himself in the same stratosphere as that other guy. For starters, he asked permission. He requested a kiss and second…
I didn’t mind that he had.
Dumbstruck, I still had nothing to say.
“What would you like, miss? Another hot toddy?”
I waved the bartender off, finally getting my voice back. “Oh, no. I was just leaving really.”
After nodding at me, the bartender went on to the next patron. The man before me, the blond with the nice eyes, started to go, but on impulse I shimmied around him.
He laughed a little when I caught him. He had a nice one of those, too.
“Thanks,” I said because I was thankful. Yes, I was.
His eyes warmed, creasing hard in the corners. “Hopefully, the rest of your vacation goes better for you.”
He didn’t know, but it had already taken a turn for the better, and it had because of him.
He told me to, “Take care,” then moved around me and I didn’t try to block his path this time. His friends still sat on the couches by the fireplace, in their own conversations, but the minute he came back they bombarded him. One of the guys took the platter of drinks and the girls took him down to the sofa, forcing him to sit in between them.
Needless to say, he didn’t fight them.
Arms going around them both, he settled in, rejoining the conversation that clearly wanted him to be a part. A big group, they all stared at him, listening with every word he gave them.
Very popular…
And I could see why. Outside of how good-looking he was, he seemed nice, too, a no-doubt dangerous combination.
Baby It's Cold Out There: Aspen (Love in the City Book 2) Page 1