The moon is the first to kiss Misty tonight, and I drink down every beautiful inch of her face. I thought I had her memorized. I set her countenance over my heart like a seal, but my memory couldn’t do this beautiful creature justice.
“Then maybe I should give you something to remember.” I pull her up close and land my lips just over hers, brushing a quick sweep across them. I mean to leave it there, to stop before I go someplace that might lead the whiskey in her to claw my eyes out, but I can’t stop.
My mouth lingers over her sweet lips, and just like that, she opens for me. My tongue accepts the invite, and I take a taste of Misty Baker’s sweeter-than-honey, warm-as-whiskey mouth for the first time in years. Her arms strengthen their grip around my neck, pulling me closer as her mouth grows greedy for mine. My heart works hard to shatter my chest, to crawl up and detonate right out of my skull. This is madness. In no proper universe can this be happening.
I must have slipped and hit my head on a rock before I ever set foot in that bar tonight. I know me. This is my best-case scenario in life, nothing more than a dream. I’m probably in a coma, ready to kick the bucket and take a flight right up past that sleepy moon, those firefly stars, and Misty is the only person on Earth I want to imagine spending my time with—imagine that she’d ever want to kiss me.
A hearty moan expels from her as if rousing me from my morbid thoughts, assuring me this is reality. Misty Baker is back in Hope Falls, back under the same moon and lazy stars that watched as we imploded all those years ago. But this time I didn’t come with a deception in hand. This is no litmus test to see what her true intentions might be. I’m not that foolish ass that I was all those years ago. Spending years apart from the woman you love will straighten out the jackass in just about anyone. Nope, this isn’t the hell I left as I tucked my tail between my legs and went back to Hollow Brook brokenhearted. This is heaven, and I’ve fallen deep into the paradise of Misty Baker’s mouth.
Holy hell, I don’t know what alternate reality I stepped into, but I’m loving every beautiful minute.
Two
Double Shot of Regret
Misty
Holy hell, I don’t know what alternate reality I stepped into, but I’m regretting every rotten minute.
I pull the pillow up over my head and let out a groan of frustration that can rival the cry of any mythological Yeti. But that kiss. Nolan Knight has the softest lips for a man. And the way his tongue moved inside my mouth…
I burst out of bed and throw myself in the shower. It’s all I can do to keep from focusing on the odd series of very inebriated events that happened last night.
God, did that even happen? The last clear thought I had was Mattie May being carted off by her nieces while I pounded hard liquor in Nolan’s obnoxious presence. What the heck was I thinking? Every woman in their right mind knows you don’t mix hard liquor and exes. That is a very toxic hell to the no.
It takes me twice as long to get dressed, coifed, spackled, and dusted with everything my makeup bag has to offer. I might have run into some serious debt while loading up at Sephora before making the trek to Hope Falls, but I’ll die before I admit to it. I knew that I’d see Nolan at the party, and like any ex-girlfriend worth my salt, I was determined to make him sorry he ever slithered into my presence. But this? What amounts to essentially a two-week vacay with the boy who broke my heart? There aren’t enough cosmetics in the world to make him feel as bad as he should.
Mattie asked that we meet her in the foyer at noon, and I don’t want Nolan to think I’m late because I’m doing a little extra primping for him. The last thing on the planet I want him to believe is that I’m putting in a little extra time in front of the mirror for his egotistical megalomaniac ass.
I check my look one last time before slicking on another layer of gloss. So maybe I did spend a little more attention to detail, but that’s only because it’s my God-given right to make sure he realizes what he’s missed out on. I hope his heart sinks to the bottom of his rotten soul when he sees me. I hope his eyes pop out of his skull and roll right over to my feet where I accidentally on purpose stomp on them by way of the hulkish yet sexy new snow boots I’ve donned.
Thank God I opted to spring the additional fifty bucks and go with the cute leopard print boots as opposed to the steel gray pair that screamed I’m boring and make equally dull financial decisions. I’m not boring by a financial landslide. I never have been boring, and I hope to God Nolan Knight has been crying himself to sleep for the last four years because deep down he knows it, too. I hope the day he decided to pull one over on me was the last happy day of his miserable life. I know it was mine.
I practically skip down the hall snuggled in my equally stylish snow bunny coat with the cute cinched waist and shiny silver buckles. The bed and breakfast is still as homey and gorgeous as I remember it with its cascading stairwell that twists into a grand foyer. Levi and Shelby keep this place in mint condition, gleaming mahogany doors and window frames have this place brimming with sparkling old world charm, and my feet have always been a huge fan of the wall-to-wall carpeting throughout the entire second level. Downstairs dark wood floors flood the ground level, which holds a cozy common room with red and green plaid couches and a fireplace, a large dining room, and a comfortable kitchen that you can pull anything you like right out of the oversized fridge. I loved the summer I spent here right up until the moment Nolan Knight reached down my throat and pulled my heart out for sport.
The buzz of voices fills the cavernous space as I make my way to the foyer. A giant gaggle of women all dressed in pink congregates near the living room, each in their own sporty snow bunny garb ready to hit the slopes with their hair in perky little ponytails and tufts of fur lining their heads like fuzzy little halos. I spot Mattie May already waving at me, but to my relief, and perhaps disappointment, I don’t see the jackass who thought it was a good idea to steal a kiss from my lips late last night. Okay, so I may have coerced him, but anyone with half a brain would have known that was the whiskey talking. In the light of a very sober day, it was a piss-poor idea for me to ever offer up my lips—and my tongue, and perhaps a tonsil or two. The only wishes that came true last night clearly belonged to Nolan.
“Morning!” I trill as Mattie May lunges over me with a hug. “I see you’ve come to your senses and sent what’s-his-name packing. Us girls don’t need a man to have a good time. Let’s head out into this oddly sun-shiny day and tackle that list top to bottom.” I pump my fist into the air as if to prove my I-am-woman-hear-my-estrogen-roar point—but honestly? Where the hell is Nolan?
Mattie May wags a wrinkled finger at me. “I agree with you on all but one count. I think we need a man every now and again to shake things up.” She jams her elbow into my ribs and gives a hard wink. “If ya know what I mean.” Nolan breezes through my mind, and the inside of my thighs quiver because unfortunately I do know exactly what she means.
Mattie shoves her pinkie and forefinger into her mouth and belts out a high-pitched whistle that can garner the attention of every human and canine this side of the Mississippi. That sea of hot pink snow bunnies parts, and, to my shock and horror, basking in the glowing center of all that silicone and hairspray is one drop-dead gorgeous, tall, dark, and I’m forced to reiterate gorgeous Nolan Knight. That three-day old scruff on his face makes him look that much tastier than I remember, and dear God was he ever tasty. I was wrong. I very much remember that kiss we shared last night just as I remember each and every one he gifted me before that. As much as I hate to admit it, Nolan Knight has haunted my body, soul, and mind for the last four years.
Nolan steps forward with those forest green eyes pinned only on mine. “You look beautiful.”
No sooner does he say the words than the girls around him break out into a choir of sighs and titters. As much as it prides me to be the one that Nolan has decided to christen his affections upon, the bitter bitch in me can’t help but take this moment to shrink his ego to the size of a t
himble.
“Hello, Nolan.” I scowl at his bubbly harem who seem far too enthralled with him. Dear God it’s as if he’s cast some type of spell, or maybe he’s waved a fistful of dollars through the air. This is the Nolan Knight after all, who just so happens to own his fair share of Manhattan. “How is that rash?” I drop my gaze to his crotch, and every last woman with a functioning pair of ovaries takes a gasping step away.
He hikes a beleaguered brow into his forehead and somehow manages to become ten times more vexingly sexy than he already is. And not coincidentally about ten different women scuttle right back to his feet.
“Have a good day, ladies.” He dismisses them with the wave of his hand, those lawn green eyes of his still trained on mine. “I’ve got a hot date with the best-looking woman in Hope Falls this afternoon.” He strides right for me with that wide chest extended, his muscles stretching his shirt taut in all the right places, and that choir of coos is right back at it. But Nolan doesn’t come for me. Instead, he links his arm through Mattie May’s and opens the door wide letting the icy breeze cool down that hot and bothered harem he’s leaving behind.
Smooth, I muse as I check out the back end of his blue jeans. Nolan always did have a tight end that kept me well entertained.
We take off as several of his groupies follow us outside, waving their scarves our way as if he were going off to war. And he is. The Cold War has just been reinstated, the UnCivil War is about to reignite. Relations have been markedly strained for the last four years, and there’s no improvement in sight. I’m betting this catastrophe in the making will lead to the mother of all wars, a thermonuclear war in which I take out half the planet once I detonate in his presence—never mind how much my body aches to detonate in his bed. Damn hormones indeed.
That kiss comes back to mind as we pile into his pricey looking, brand new truck. Nolan offers me a hand, and I all but give him the finger as I struggle my way into the back seat. There’s no way I’m going to accept one ounce of charity from Nail ’Em and Leave ’Em Nolan. Not that it’s an official nickname—nor is it exactly fitting in my case, but it has a nasty ring to it, and that’s what I’m going for at the moment.
“So, where to, Mattie May?” Nolan starts up the engine, and the truck rumbles beneath me as easily as his voice just did. Nolan has one of the most masculine voices I have ever heard. Nothing too deep, just the right amount of baritone. In fact, it was his voice I was drawn to first on that fated summer evening he walked into the kitchen and asked if he could help with dinner. He had me at both his deep rumble of a voice and sweet offer to lend a helping hand. I thought any man who offers to help with a meal couldn’t be half bad. Boy, was I ever wrong.
“I don’t know.” Mattie cranes her neck trying to get a look at something outside the windshield. “It’s awful nice out now, but they keep saying that big storm is about to make a U-turn. I think we should head up to Mountain Ridge and get all that fun stuff I have planned for the three of us crossed off the list.”
Nolan glances back at me from the rearview mirror, and I’m quick to look away. One could say that Mountain Ridge was special to us. Sure, it was the gazebo at the bed and breakfast where we shared our first kiss, but it was our ski trip up at Mountain Ridge that put us on the fast-track to becoming a couple.
Mattie May claps her hands together with excitement. “There’s no point in letting the storm come in and ruin our good time. Besides, once the bad weather comes back, we can hit a few indoor activities I’m just achin’ to tackle.”
The dimple in Nolan’s left cheek depresses. Damn pervert. I bet his mind is cluttered with all kinds of naughty indoor activities in which he just so happens to tackle me. My mind wanders to the gutter right along with him, and a brief vision of a very naked Nolan thrusting into my body breezes through me, sending a flash of heat searing me in all the wrong places. Crap. I roll down the window an inch and let the icy breeze stab my eyes out.
Nolan takes the switchbacks extra slow, and I can’t help but feel a little nostalgic as we pass the rows and rows of pines—each one aching to touch the sky a little higher than the last. The snow is heavier up here, blanketing the ground as far as the eye can see like a thick layer of pristine wool. The downy white loft has nestled into the boulders and filled in all of the ridges in between, giving it the effect of a giant wall of wintery white.
We pass an old wooden sign with the words Mountain Ridge Outdoor Adventures Straight Ahead, and I can’t help but get a little giddy. I’ve got cabin fever just being in this close proximity to the man who all but stomped on my heart, and there’s nothing I love more than a breath of fresh pine air. Back home it’s all about beaches and sunshine and nary a pine tree in sight. I’ve always longed for a place that had real seasons and a white Christmas. Nolan’s hometown of Hollow Brook comes to mind, and I sweep it right back out.
We pull into the lot, and as much as Mattie May begs him to use her handicapped parking tag, Nolan finds a perfectly legal spot up front. The resort isn’t all that busy, considering it’s a weekend, and as much as the resort owners aren’t too happy about it, I’m thrilled to have the grounds to ourselves.
“So, what’s it going to be?” I ask, getting out of the truck, taking in that first precious breath of crisp air.
Mattie dusts herself off as Nolan helps her out, and the two of them zip up their jackets in sync. This is no mere breeze we’re dealing with. It’s an obnoxious, cutting whipper-wind that will knife right through to your bones if given half the chance, sort of like Nolan himself.
Nolan threads his arm through Mattie’s, and I head over to the other side of her and do the same. The last thing I want for Mattie May is a broken hip just before her ninetieth birthday bash. The sidewalks are thick with snow, and you can’t go two feet without hitting a patch of ice on the ground.
“How about a cup of hot chocolate at the chalet?” Nolan starts to head in that direction, but Mattie digs her snow boots into the ground.
“That sounds great, but that’s not on my list, hon. Maybe we can do it after, sort of like an impromptu tack-on?”
I give a quick sweep of the vicinity. This is a ski resort, laden with heavy duty mountain activities. I’m not too sure what Mattie thinks she’ll be able to pull off, and I’d hate to see her come to an unfortunate end just because she’s determined to scratch some silly line item off her to-do list.
“How about we head to the café and split a grilled cheese sandwich and a soup of the day?” I offer a smug look to Nolan once I espouse my genius. I have never seen Mattie May turn down a decent grilled cheese sandwich, and the soup of the day was a nice touch if I do say so myself. Who can resist a creamy clam chowder? Or perhaps a savory French onion, rich and obnoxious just like Nolan himself?
“No can do.” Mattie May is quick to shake off the idea. “I’ve got a hankering to take a quick trip down that mountain, and the two of you are going to help me do it.”
Nolan and I glance over at the snow-covered earth looming to our left as skiers and snowboarders alike dash and slash their way down the sparkling white slick.
“Not that.” Mattie May spikes a finger farther to the left, and we turn to find trails of red sleds making their way down the mountain.
“Sledding.” My head tips back a notch at the thought of Mattie May’s fragile nine-decade old body gliding down to certain disaster.
“It’s called tobogganing around these parts, honey.” Mattie May lands an arm over each of our shoulders. “And today that’s just what we’re gonna do!”
Thankfully for Mattie May and perhaps myself, the Mountain Ridge Outdoor Adventures park has a dedicated slope for sledding, or tobogganing as Mattie would have it. And, if you’re not in the mood to speed down at triple digit miles per hour, there is a makeshift Bavarian bobsled rendition that shuttles you down the mountain about halfway in a controlled snake-like pattern before letting you zoom to an uncertain death.
The three of us walk over to the line that zigzags
its way up the slope, and Nolan and I help Mattie May every step of the way. Once we get to the top, I’m winded, but Mattie May is panting right through a smile. It’s clear that a little cardio isn’t going to keep Mattie from crossing anything off her bucket list.
Nolan pulls out his wallet once we reach the sled rental, and I wait until his transaction is through before stepping up to the plate to do the same.
“What are ya doin’?” Mattie places her hand over mine as if I were just about to commit a cardinal sin.
“Getting my own sleigh. That way we can race him to the bottom. You can ride with me.” There’s no way I’d ever dream of letting her go at it alone. Luge or no luge, the mountain is so steep, I’m feeling a bit of anxiety over arriving alive to the bottom of the slope myself.
“What?” she squawks so loud several heads turn in our direction. “Of course, I’m riding with you! I’ll be riding with both of you! Put your pocketbook away, darlin’. The sign says up to four passengers per sleigh. There’s plenty of room for the three of us. Now come on. Let’s stop wasting time and start making some dreams come true!” She scampers up ahead, and Nolan glances my way with a devilish grin just itching to take over his egotistical face.
“You heard the lady. Stop wasting time. It’s time to start making our dreams come true.”
I scoot ahead of him with a grunt. “Technically, that’s not what she said.”
Nolan leans in, his mouth dangerously close to the side of my face. “That’s what she meant.”
“I can assure you, the last thing I dream about is flying down a chute of snow with you attached at the hip.”
“I hope not. I was sort of hoping that you have far more creative things you’d like to do while attached to my hip. Like maybe more of what you did last night.”
Mattie May stops short and abruptly spins around, her cheeks pink as apples from the hike to the top of the ridge.