Page 55 of Grumpy on the Mountain

The fabric clings to her hips, her thighs, and when it finally falls to the floor, I nearly drop to my knees just to steal them so I can remember this moment forever.

She's completely bare, standing in a shaft of afternoon sunlight that turns her skin to gold. The soft curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, the triangle hint of honey-blonde hair between her legs that makes my mouth water.

I've never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life.

"Beau?" she says with soft and velvety tones.

I manage to drag my eyes back to her face, and what I see there nearly undoes me. Want. Need. Puredesire.The same desperate hunger that's clawing at my insides, making every nerve burn with a possessive need to claim this woman right here, right fucking now.

"What kind of girl," she says, taking a step toward the door, "sees a hot tub like that and doesn't get straight in?"

And just like that, my brain reboots.

Hot tub?

She's not stripping for sex. She's stripping for the hot tub.

Which should be disappointing, but somehow isn't. Because watching Molly walk naked through my cabin toward my deck is possibly the most erotic thing I've ever experienced.

"I'll get the wine," I say, my voice coming out like I've been gargling gravel.

She glances back over her shoulder, and the smile she gives me is pure sin. "Better make it good wine. I have standards."

I watch her walk away, the gentle sway of her hips, the perfect curve of her plump round ass, and I have to grip the doorframe to keep from following her.

Wine. I need wine.

I stumble toward the kitchen, my brain trying to catalog my alcohol inventory while my cock throbs in my jeans. Do I have wine? What counts as wine? There's that bottle of red I boughtthree years ago when I thought I had my life back on track. Is it still good? Does wine go bad?

Focus, Callahan.

I'm rifling through cabinets when I hear the soft splash of water and a contented sigh that carries through the open sliding door.

Don't look. Don't look. Find the wine and don't—

I can't help but look.

Molly's settled into the hot tub, arms stretched along the edge, head tilted back to catch the last rays of the setting sun. Steam rises around her like something out of a fantasy, and the water laps just high enough to cover her breasts while leaving her shoulders and the tops of her curves visible.

She looks like a goddess.

A sexy, wet goddess in my hot tub, waiting for me to join her.

Shit.

I should hurry up and get the wine.

Chapter Thirteen

Molly

I'm floating in liquid heaven because Beau's hot tub is perfect.

Water temperature that makes my muscles melt, jets that massage every knot of tension I've carried for months, and a view that belongs on the cover of a travel magazine.

Mountains stretch endlessly in every direction, painted gold by the afternoon sun, while steam rises around me like I'm some kind of goddess.

But none of that compares to the anticipation thrumming through my veins as I wait for Beau to return.