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CHAPTER 1

LIZZY

DIVE BAR - 6 MONTHS LATER

I lean over the marble vanity in the bathroom and pop my lips in the mirror. I love this shade of red lip stain. It might be a bit much for a Wednesday night out at a crappy dive bar, but I think it’s perfect.

I’ve been looking forward to this President’s Day trip to Aspen Valley and Park City, Utah for months. Originally it was just going to be a February girls trip, sort of like the trip V and I had originally planned in Jackson Hole over the holidays.

Spa days, late nights out on the town, living it up on Old Main Street in downtown Park City for a long weekend. That was until V lucked out over that Jackson Hole trip and fell in love with the man of the century, Tanner Chapman. So now he’s crashing our President’s Day girls trip and bringing his best friend Collin, V’s brother, who also happens to now be my friend too.

But even if there will be more people than we originally planned, they don’t get into town until tomorrow morning and I have the condo to myself tonight. And that’s exactly why I’m going out on the town. All winter I’ve been enjoying my Tour de Lizzy. Just because I have no idea what I want long term doesn’t mean I don’t have needs right now. I’m a grown ass woman. Meaningless one night stands, especially over a thousand miles from my home back in Dayton, Ohio, are totally doable for me right now.

Sure, spending the long weekend with the group should be a blast. And I know my family’s condo at the Aspen Grove Club will be a bit more cramped than we originally planned. I’m guessing we’ll meet up with Tanner’s younger siblings, Clay and Grace, who both live in the Park City area too .

We’ll probably have time to ski both resorts, Aspen Valley where the condo is, and Park City, closer to the old ski town and only ten minutes away. It will be a great time.

And I’ll gladly take all the distractions I can get. Sure, that trip over New Year’s with V, Tanner, and Collin was fun. I even had my first threesome, sort of.

But I still have a bitter taste in my mouth.

I’m still angry.

I’m still hurt.

Johnathan, that dirtbag, left a hole in my heart six months ago. I wasted so many good years with him. Years that I spent trusting him, thinking he loved me. All of that time, that energy, thinking of our future, only to see him wash it down the drain, like it was nothing to him. Like I was nothing to him.

He even managed to spoil the peace and quiet of the stupid apartment, which now just reminds me of him.

So having a free night to myself, away from home where I can just get out and let loose is something I desperately need.

And besides, I haven’t been out to Park City in months and the first thing I’d love to do is stop into Roxy’s, the old dive bar a block off of Main Street.

Looking in the mirror in the bathroom at the condo, I can almost convince myself that I’m not still hurt. The confident face staring back at me feels like it’s finally resembling the sassy bitch everyone thinks I am, the one I want them to think I am.

I feel like I look good.

No.

I do look fucking good.

Black tights, my trusty low cut black sweater dress, my favorite gold necklace with the ice cream cone charm pendant, and my hair back in a pony tail. I love this outfit. I feel like a catch.

Yep. Screw Johnathan. His loss.

After hopping off the shuttle from the condo to downtown Park City, I walk South towards Main Street. Along the way, I pass the Town Lift, the chairlift that comes from the slopes straight into the center of town. I stop and watch for a minute as some of the resort employees are still riding it down. It’s connected by a skiers’ bridge that lets skiers come right into the center of town. This place is really unique with how the town and the resort blend together. Some of the ski runs at the base of the mountain even run right along the houses a few blocks off of Main Street.

Striding up the street through historic downtown Park City is something that feels timeless yet modern all at once. My pink cowboy boots I bought in Jackson Hole are cute as hell, but they probably weren’t the best choice for the sloped street that I’m trudging up now. Even with the salt scattered on the shoveled pavement, it’s still slick and I definitely don’t want to fall and break something before I even get to ski tomorrow.

I carefully walk my way up Main Street, which is at the center of the old Western mining town turned ski paradise. It’s lined with charming two and three-story brick buildings with a mix of old, brightly painted wood facades. There are bars, restaurants, art galleries, chocolate shops, all of the things it seems like every ski town has. If it wasn’t dark out, I could even see the mountains surrounding the town on three sides.

Turning the corner, I walk another block away from Main Street towards my destination, Roxy’s.

It’s a dive. And that might be on the generous side. It’s old, with a nondescript, wood paneled facade painted white that’s been fading for years. Topping off the charming, dive bar vibe is a small red sign over the door with “Roxy’s” stenciled in white. It vaguely resembles most of the old buildings right off the main drag, just a bit more… grungy .

On the inside, it’s not much different. The wood paneled walls are raw and worn. There are pool tables along the back wall and a cozy bar with a dozen or so seats surrounded by a few high top tables.

It’s definitely not a place Meredith Frank, my mother, would approve of. At first it was my secret escape and I’d lie about where I was going every now and then on our family ski trips. When I was older, I stopped hiding it from them, but they’d still always wonder why I’d come here. It’s not the swanky, posh place the Frank family would go to. No espresso martinis or Chablis here, that’s for sure.

It’s a place I’ve been coming to for ages whenever I’m in town at my family’s condo, ever since I was old enough to drink. Maybe even before I was old enough. Not that my parents ever need to know about that. And not like they’d really care either. They would be busy at some swanky place for dinner or at the condo with my younger sister, Charlotte.

No. I liked to come here to just get away, to let my hair down . Ok, maybe not literally, I’m wearing a ponytail. But no, just a place to get away from what I’m expected to be and relax. A place where my mother or my boyfriend couldn’t tell me to tone it down a notch on the rare occasions he came on one of our family trips. A place to unwind and be me, unapologetically Lizzy.

Am I a little overdressed for this place? Probably. But whatever, I’m always overdressed. As my best friend says, I’m always on . So what, I enjoy looking good.

Even on a Wednesday night close to nine o’clock, the bar is busy. The sounds of all the people and their glasses clanking reverberate through the room. The wolf shaped neon light along the wall hums with the country songs in the background. All of it vibrates and courses through me, bringing me to life .

I work my way up to the bar and grab a stool at the corner. Getting a seat in prime position for people watching is practically a hobby of mine. Is the drunk guy over there going to get slapped or score with the woman he’s been buying vodka sodas for the last hour? Are those two guys at the pool table going to fight or bro hug? All I know is that this is better than reality TV. People watching at these places is always a must for me. On a weeknight? Even better.

The bartender, a sweet girl probably barely old enough to drink herself, comes my way.

“Nice day out on the slopes today. You make it out there?” She tilts her chin towards the windows on the front of the building where you could see the ski slopes if the sun was still up. I always admire the politeness of local Utahns.

“Unfortunately not. Just got back into town today.” I shrug, turning my palms up, jealous that I’m not here full time and can’t ski when I feel like it. I swear V and Tanner rubbed off on me too much over the holidays.

“Bummer.” She takes her bar towel and wipes the spot in front of me clean. “So what can I get you tonight?”

“Well bourbon, neat, and a glass of water. Thanks!” I hand my card over to her to start a tab, noting her raised eyebrows. Why does everyone act surprised the 5’3” blonde likes bourbon? Sure, I love me a mimosa or tiki drink. But sometimes, this is what I want. I just need to burn the tips of my nerves off. Just a teensy bit.

“Alright. I like your style.” She nods before turning to the back bar to throw my card in the glass with the other tab cards. My metal card hits the bottom with a nice little clink and I hear a laugh from her.

A few songs later and I can feel my worries start to drift off. Who needs Johnathan? And why should I care what my mother thinks about me? And let’s not even get started with Dad. We were close once, but somewhere along the way we grew apart. It was especially bad after Charlotte took more of their time when she got sick and was in and out of the hospital. I know she needed their time, but so did I and I still want to fix that chasm that grew between all of us. I just don’t know where to start. At least Meredith Frank actually has an opinion about me, unlike him. It’s not my problem I don’t want to live up to her expectations, meet a nice boy in finance with a trust fund, and get married and pop out 2.5 kids. Johnathan was exactly who she wanted me to end up with. He was respectable, smart, and a safe choice. And if she had her way, we would have patched things up, stayed together, and done exactly that.

Zero chance, Mother.

If it was up to her, I’d have been defined by the man I was with just like her. And I’ve worked so hard to do things on my own. Instead of working for my dad, I got my own internship. I worked for a great startup on the West Coast. Sure, I did come back home to Ohio to work at another company, but I wanted to be closer to my friends and sister. And the opportunity was in fact a career advancement with some big, remote working perks.

I just want to be me. My own person, living my own authentic life.

The problem is I don’t exactly know what that means any more. I always wanted to make my own life, but I was also with Johnathan for so long that I was ready to settle down and do what I thought was expected of me. It just felt like that was natural next step. We were even shopping for engagement rings, even though he hadn’t actually asked me yet. Months removed from that now, I don’t know if that’s what I want any more. I don’t know if that’s ever what I really wanted. What I know for sure is that I don’t want to be defined by someone else.

An hour goes by while I watch the crowd, enjoying the distraction from thinking about the life I thought I wanted, listening to the music on the juke box, and letting the stress of the travel day go by. When the bartender comes back with my second round, I feel a cold breeze drift through the bar, sending a chill up my legs through my tights. I turn to see the door open and watch as a tall, imposing figure walks in.

Just looking at him, I can feel the hair on the back of my neck stand. His hair is a dark, inky brown, tousled on top but pushed to one side. Below the shell of his ear I can make out a couple tattoos on his neck coming above the collar of his worn black work jacket. The features of his face are striking and defined, from his high cheek bones to his square jaw.

Jesus. Where did this guy come from?

I’ve always gone after the pretty, preppy boys. The ones I’d meet at my fancy private school or at my parents’ parties or country club. The ones like my ex. But on my Tour de Lizzy of no strings attached fun, I’ve never come across someone like this guy. Yeah. There was that cowboy in Wyoming. But this guy is different. He’s rugged, imposing, and raw.

He looks right at me, his brow furrowing and his jaw tightening into a scowl before he looks past me to the bartender, walking right towards us. He looks younger, maybe in his late twenties? But there’s still something so intense and masculine about him.

“Hey Mandy,” he says to the bartender while organizing a stack of coasters, “I’ll take the usual. ”

“Sure thing, babe,” she says, heading down the bar towards the fridge. He takes his jacket off, folding it neatly and laying it on the bar revealing a plain black t-shirt that hugs him in all the right places.

“What are you doing here?” His deep, irritated voice catches me off guard as he continues to look down the bar watching Mandy, facing away from me. I look around, noticing no one is within ear shot of us in the loud bar.

“Are you talking to me?” I look to him, but he’s still watching Mandy and waiting for his drink, drumming his fingers along the wooden counter. I watch the way the corded muscles of his tattooed forearms tick with each motion of his hand.

He lowers his head, letting out a long sigh before turning to me. His dark green eyes are so piercing as he looks right into mine. He does look young, but at the same time I get a glimpse of something behind those eyes that looks soulful and worn. I swallow hard and my mouth go dry as his eyes still rake over me. It takes all my willpower to hold his gaze and not rake my eyes over his body.

Who the hell is this guy and what’s his problem with me?

“Yeah. I am talking to you. What are you doing here?” His tone is slightly less irritated and I can see one corner of his mouth quirk up into a playful smirk.

“I’m trying to enjoy my bourbon without being bothered. What about you?” I lift my glass to my lips, taking a long slow sip as I maintain this unusually intense eye contact. He’s certainly handsome and confident. And he knows it. I’ll give him that.

He huffs a laugh as he rests against the bar, propping himself up on his elbow. He leans toward me, leaving almost no space between us. “I’m waiting for the pretty little tourist princess to get out of my seat so I can enjoy my beer when it gets here.”

Pretty little tourist? His seat?

Yep, he’s definitely cocky .

I let my eyes run over him, admiring how the t-shirt hugs his toned arms and reveals more of his tattoos. He could certainly be a fun distraction tonight while I have the condo to myself before the others get to town tomorrow.

OK. I can play this game.

I roll my shoulders and flick my ponytail back, flashing a playful grin at him and looking at him with my best doe eyes. “Oh. I didn’t realize you could reserve seats here. Silly me.” I mockingly clutch at my heart. “I’m such a tourist after all.”

His scowl disappears and lifts back into a smirk. Through his five o’clock shadow I can see his dimples now, softening the intensity of his striking features, making him somehow even more irresistibly delicious.

“Well, for a pretty little tourist like you,” he pauses, his grin widening, “I guess I can make an exception. You can keep it.” He turns and walks away, returning with another bar stool and sliding it right next to me.

The air between us already feels charged, buzzing and heavy with tension as our eyes linger on each other. It feels like an eternity passes before Mandy returns with his beer.

“Here you go, babe.” She leaves the stubby yellow labeled beer on a coaster before heading back to the other end of the bar. He tips his chin to her and grabs the beer.

I can’t help but notice his hands. They look worn and rough, like he works with them everyday. They look like the kind of hands that would feel good wandering over my body and gripping me. On the back of his hand holding the beer, I can see a horseshoe tattooed and some letters that I can’t make out on the knuckles.

“Thanks,” he says gruffly, getting my attention back from thinking about what his hands would feel like on me. But he doesn’t move, still turned to face me, his eyes shamelessly lingering .

I feel my cheeks heat and my skin itch with anticipation. I look down away from his gaze trying to collect myself for just a second, but that only heightens the feeling. He’s sitting with his knees open, inches from mine. His jeans hug his tree trunk thighs and my mind goes straight to thinking about how it would feel to be pressed against him.

He would definitely be a fun distraction for a night.

Even if he’s young, everything about him screams masculine . The kind of man that would be rough and fuck me through the headboard.

OK, yeah. Maybe I overdid it on the flight and went a little too hard with the extra spicy books.

I look back up at him with a new sense of resolve taking over me. Yes, I deserve to have some no strings attached fun while I have the condo to myself tonight.

When I look at him, his eyes narrow and he lets out a low laugh.

I cock my head and raise an eyebrow at him. “What’s so funny?”

He shakes his head and lets out another low huff of laughter, extending a finger towards me. “You. You’re funny.”

“How so?” I smirk at him, taking a sip of my bourbon before letting my tongue dart over my lips, licking a stray drop. I don’t miss the way his eyes drift to my lips before he looks back at me. I know my lips look extra pouty with the stain I put on before heading out.

“You’ve got this whole little polite, pretty princess thing going on but you’re sitting here at a dive bar drinking bourbon neat and eyefucking me. You’re something else.”

A breathless laugh escapes me and I reach to cover my mouth. I feel the blood rush to my cheeks as they go redder than my lips.

I pause before letting out an amused, thoughtful hum. “Well, I am just a pretty little tourist. I figured I’d take in all the sights.” I let my eyes roam over him again and the approving grin he gives me is downright feral .

His deep laugh rumbles through me. I clench my thighs together, trying to dull the ache growing there.

He looks down at his phone for a second before looking at me and rasping his knuckles against the bar. “I need to check on something, but I’ll be right back.” He stands and as he takes a step past me, he looks back. “Enjoy the sights .” He winks before turning away and walking towards the back hallway.

He fucking winks?

You’ve got to be kidding me. This guy is so damn cocky. And looking down, watching the way his Wranglers mold to his ass, fine. Yeah. I get it.

As he turns the corner, I get up, following him before I lose my nerve or let the sane part of me talk myself out of this. I stride across the bar, towards the hallway.

I turn the corner in a hurry and walk into what feels like a brick wall, startling myself and knocking me off balance.

Except it’s not a brick wall. It’s the cocky local.

He’s there.

He’s there and he’s smirking at me.

“Something you need, princess ?” he says, playfully and clearly pleased with himself.

Screw it. He’s cocky, but the confident, bad boy act is doing it for me tonight. I step towards him, straining my neck to look up at him.

“Yeah. You.” I push my finger into his chest. “You are exactly what I need tonight.” I flatten my hand and run it over his muscular chest. His eyes are breathtakingly intense. A deep shade of green that feels like it goes on forever, like an alpine lake reflecting the forest around it.

“And why do you need me?” His voice is deep and gravelly. He leans forward, erasing the little remaining space between us. I realize just how much he towers over me .

“I need a man that can play rough and you seem like the type. Maybe fuck me until I can’t think straight.” A muscle flicks in his jaw as he cracks a wide, sinful grin that’s only sexier with his dimples. I run my hand up his chest over the rose tattoo on his neck to cup his jaw. The feeling of his stubble under my thumb sends shivers through me as I imagine how it would feel between my legs. He seems like a guy that would be so eager to please.

“If I fuck you, you won’t be able to walk straight, much less think straight.” He reaches up towards my hand on his face, pressing it against his jaw as he steps further into me.

“Is that a promise or a threat?” I tease him, running a finger tip down his tattooed neck over his collarbone. His throat bobs as my nail traces the outline of the roses.

His hand grips my hip, pressing my body into him. “There’s two things you should know about me. I was raised that I’m as good as my word. If I make a promise, I’m going to keep it or die trying.”

I feel my heart pound as he crowds my space. His presence is intoxicating, more intoxicating than the bourbon I was just drinking. And he clearly isn’t phased by my teasing. But I’m not backing down from him. I manage to get out the words, albeit with a little less conviction than my earlier taunt. “You said there’s two things?”

His nostrils flare and his muscular chest fills out as he inhales a deep, irritated breath. His lips part when he leans forward, his grip on my hip tightening. His mouth is so close to me as he whispers into my ear. “I’m all action. I don’t make threats.”

The feeling of his warm breath on my neck, matching the heat pooling low in my core.

His words.

His voice.

A hushed whimper escapes me and my restraint snaps.

I fist his shirt, pulling him down to me. He slants his head and our lips meet. His kiss is hungry, piercing and devouring. I wrap one leg around him, drawing our bodies together and I can feel his bulge through his jeans.

He pulls away, both of us practically panting.

“You want to get out of here?” he asks. His eyes meet mine and I can see the eagerness in them. He reaches for my face, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I grab his hand, desperate for more skin to skin contact.

His hands are strong and rugged and mine disappears into his palm. I can see the horseshoe on the back of his hand more clearly and now I can make out the letters on his knuckles that spell out COME.

But it’s the other tattoo that I can’t look away from. The one on the inside of his wrist. It’s a jagged little line forming the outlines of mountain peaks. It’s the same one I’ve seen over the years on my best friend’s ribs. It’s the same tattoo that her boyfriend, Tanner, has on his wrist. The same one even Veronica’s brother Collin has on his wrist. The exact same spot as this guy.

I look back into those eyes, suddenly very aware of the familiar, intense green hue. The mischievous smile with perfect dimples. The tall, mountain man build.

Oh god.

No. No. No.

This has to be a joke.