"Are you a ski bum?"
"During the winter months, pretty much. After Bogus, we'll hit Targhee and Jackson Hole before heading to Colorado." We'll? "Are you here with friends?"
"Yeah, my buddies are still out on the slopes." He hooked the heels of his boots on the bottom rung of his stool, and his wide-spread knees brushed the outside of her thigh.
The casual touch did something to her insides. It wasn't exactly instant, remorseless lust, but it was something. "Why aren't you out there with them?" Buddies. As in male friends. Men didn't generally refer to female friends as buddies.
He raised the beer to his lips. "Knees acting up," he answered and took a long drink.
But there was little doubt in her mind that this guy had a woman in his life. Probably more than one. "Skiing with buddies on Valentine's Day?"
He watched her through those green eyes of his as he lowered the bottle. "Is it Valentine's Day?" he asked and sucked a drop of beer from his top lip.
Kate smiled. The fact that he didn't know meant he probably didn't have anyone serious in his life right now. "Every year on the fourteenth of February."
He looked about the room as if really seeing it for the first time. "Ahh. That explains the hearts."
Her gaze lowered past the mustache framing his mouth and chin, down the wide column of his thick neck to the hollow of his tan throat. "I think we're the only two in here who aren't a couple."
"Don't tell me you're here alone?"
Kate returned her gaze to his and laughed. She liked the way he'd said that, as if he found it hard to believe. "Yeah, go figure." In her favorite fantasy, she was trapped with a hunk of man in Nordstrom's shoe department. "How about you? Anyone going to be angry with you for forgetting Valentine's Day?"
"Nope."
She'd never set a fantasy in a ski lodge, but she was thinking about it now. She couldn't help it. The man was throwing off pheromones like he was a nuclear reactor at Chernobyl. Sitting so close to ground zero, the fallout was lethal.
He pushed up the sleeves of his flannel shirt and exposed what appeared to be the tail of a snake or some sort of reptile on his thick left forearm. "Is that a snake?"
"Yeah. That's Chloe. She's a sweetheart." Right. The tattoo was dark gold with black-and-white bands and appeared so real she leaned in for a closer look. The scales were perfectly defined, and without giving it a thought, Kate reached out and touched his bare arm. "What kind of snake is she?" She half expected to feel cool scales instead of warm, smooth flesh.
"An Angolan python." Python. Yikes! "How big?" Kate looked back up into his face. Something hot and sensual shimmered within the green depths of his eyes. A need that made her pulse jump and tingles spread up her wrists.
He raised the beer to his mouth and looked away. "Five feet." He took a long drink, and when he returned his gaze to her, that flicker of that something was gone, as if it had never been there.
She dropped her hand. "Are all five feet of her tattooed on your body?"
"Yeah." He pointed to his forearm with the mouth of the bottle. "Her tail ends here. She's wrapped around my arm, down my back, and is coiled around my right thigh."
Kate looked down at his thigh and straight at his groin. Soft worn Levi's covered his legs and cupped the bulge in his crotch. She quickly looked away before he caught her staring. "I have a tattoo."
He laughed. A low rumble in his chest that did funny things to her chest. "What? A heart on your ankle?"
She shook her head and took a long drink from her mug. Her temperature shot up and her face felt flushed. She didn't know if it was the rum or the testosterone cocktail sitting next to her, but she was starting to feel a little light-headed. Not the kind of light-headed that made you faint, but the kind that brought a grin to your face even when you didn't feel like smiling.
"Hmm?" He lowered his gaze down the side of her throat. "A rose on your shoulder?"
The kind of light-headed that made a girl think of hot sweaty things. Hot sweaty naked things she probably shouldn't act upon. "Nope."
He looked back into her eyes and speculated, "A sun around your navel."
"A moon and a few stars, but not around my navel." Hot sweaty naked things that no one else would ever know about.
"I knew it would be something girly," he scoffed as he shook his head. "Where?"
It couldn't be just her. He had to feel it too, but what if she did proposition him and he turned her down? She didn't think she could handle that kind of humiliation. "My butt."
Smile lines crinkled the corners of his eyes, and he laughed again. "Full or half?" Wait, he's a guy, she thought as she polished off her drink. Guys were guys were guys. He wouldn't turn her down. "Crescent."
"A moon on a moon." He cocked one brow and leaned to one side and looked at her butt as if he could see through her clothing. "Interesting. I've never seen that before." He took a drink of his beer and straightened.
Maybe it was the rum and her hot sweaty naked thoughts. Maybe it was because it was Valentine's Day and she was lonely and didn't want to wear Hush Puppies yet. Maybe for just once she wanted to act on an impulse. Maybe it was all of those things, but before she could stop herself, she asked, "Wanna see?" The second the words left her lips, her heart seemed to stop along with her breath. Oh God!
He lowered the bottle. "Are you propositioning me?"
Was she? Yes. No. Maybe. Could she really go through with it? Don't overanalyze it. Don't think it to death, she told herself. You'll never see this guy again. For once in your life, just go for it. She didn't even know his name. She guessed it didn't matter. "Are you interested?"
Slowly, as if to make sure he understood her perfectly, he asked, "Are you talking sex?"
She looked into those eyes staring back at her and tried to breathe past the sudden constriction in her chest. Could she use and abuse him? Could she twist him into a sexual pretzel then toss him out the door when she was through? Was she that kind of person? "Yes."
There it was again. That hot, sensual need that flickered and burned. Then in the blink of an eye, his features hardened and his gaze turned cold. "Afraid not," he said as if she'd offered him up a fate worse than death. He set his beer on the bar and rose until he towered over her.
Kate managed a stunned, "Oh," just before her cheeks caught fire and her ears started to buzz. She raised a hand to her numb face and hoped she didn't pass out.
"Don't take it personal, but I don't fuck women I meet in bars." Then he walked away, moving from the lounge as fast as his big boots could carry him.
Two
By thirteen, Kate had become an infrequent visitor to Gospel, Idaho. As a kid, she'd loved hiking in the wilderness area and swimming in Fish Hook Lake. She'd loved helping out at the M&S Market, her grandparents' small grocery store. But once she'd entered her teen years, hanging out with her grandparents hadn't been cool any longer, and she'd only visited on rare occasions. span
The last time Kate had been in Gospel had been to attend her grandmother's funeral. Looking back, that trip had been a short, painful blur. This trip was less painful, but the moment she lay eyes on her grandfather, she knew there would be nothing short about her stay.
Stanley Caldwell owned a grocery store filled with food. He butchered fresh meat and bought fresh produce, yet he ate TV dinners every night. Swanson Hungry Man. Turkey or meat loaf.
He kept his house clean, but after two years, it was still cluttered with Tom Jones memorabilia,which Kate thought odd since her grandmother had been the Tom Jones fanatic, not her grandfather. In fact, he'd gone out of his way to indicate that her obsession was something he supported but did not share. Just as she had not shared his love of big game hunting.