Page 6 of Stuck With Mr. Frosty (Delectable Protectors #5)
AIDEN
T he first week of being back in Aspen always feels like putting myself through the most excruciating training known to man.
It’s different than the other mountains I work on, taking up more of my energy and focus.
Especially with Mia and Rosie constantly running around the cabin as if they own the place.
I don’t know how many eyeliner pencils I’ve found on the coffee table.
Or the tube of lipstick that somehow ended up in a kitchen cupboard.
Or there’s the fact that I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many bras in my life.
They’re everywhere. It’s an invasion of the bras. You can’t just toss them in the dryer to clean them. And you need different ones for different tops. I never wanted to be this involved in discussions about bras, and yet every time I leave the bedroom, there they are.
I sigh and look at Honey. “I don’t know how we’re going to last the season. Maybe we should go live at one of the watchtowers. It would be a little cold, but it would be quiet.”
Honey pushes to her feet and goes to the door, standing on her hind legs and hitting the knob down. The door cracks, and she claws at it until it opens.
Even the dog is leaving me to spend time with Mia.
There’s nothing I can do about that, though, so I grab a book and crack it open, burying my nose in the pages. This is one of two days a week I get to myself, and I plan on spending it in bed and finally finishing the novel I started on the plane ride over here.
However, all it takes is the pounding bass in the other room an hour later to send my head spinning.
I shift around on the bed, trying to ignore the music and turning to the next page. Unfortunately, all I can seem to do is read one paragraph several times. At this point, I think I could write it from memory.
And that’s when I can’t hold on any longer.
Rosie and Mia are getting on my last nerve. I don’t know how Ryder puts up with it, but the loud-as-hell music is where it comes to an end.
I can’t keep living like this and still do my job.
If I’m going to be going out sitting in a watchtower every day and watching for skiers and snowboarders getting lost on the side of a mountain, or even the hikers straying too far from the trail claiming that they think they know what they’re doing, then I can’t be sitting here while they pound music all through the night.
Before I shove the door open, I take a deep breath. As I fling it to the side, countless bodies pour into the small living room. The door opens, and even more people are outside dancing, beers in their hands, laughing and talking like they’re having a good time.
There, in the middle of it all, are Mia and Honey.
Honey is soaking up the attention like she’s never had belly rubs before in her life. Her tongue lolls out the side of her mouth, and her tail beats against the floor, the steady thump, thump, thump nearly rivaling the bass of the music.
To be honest, I don’t know what Mia is doing here.
I don’t think she’s taking the work seriously most of the time.
There are some moments when the smile falls and she concentrates on everything going on around her, but those moments are few and far between.
She seems like a party girl with no sense of what she’s doing or where she’s going in life.
Maybe it’s not fair to judge her, but right now I’m pissed.
I don’t have time to stand around and get to know her when my blood is boiling and my pulse is pounding in my ears.
I storm over to Mia, fingernails digging into my palms. “What the hell is going on here?”
Mia spins with a bottle of beer in her hand and holds it out to me. “Here, it’s been a long week, and you look like you need this. Why don’t you crack it open, enjoy some music, and try and loosen up a little bit?”
“I was enjoying my night until you started blasting music like you own the damn place.” I glare at the offending bottle in her hand, but she shoves it at me.
“Just take the beer, have a good time, and we can argue in the morning.”
I take the beer from her, but that’s only because I plan on heading back to my room, cracking it open, and enjoying the rest of my book once she turns off the music and kicks all these people out.
“You know what else?” she says, an impish smile curving the corner of her mouth, those big eyes shining bright with mischief.
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“I spent a lot of my time researching a good doctor to pull the stick out of your ass. You’d be surprised how hard it is to find somebody well versed in a stick-ectomy.”
“You think you’re funny.”
She smirks and crosses her arms under her chest, pushing her breasts up higher in that tight bustier she’s wearing.
“I know I’m funny. I don’t let the little things in life get to me.
If I did, who knows where I’d be right now.
Now, try to make yourself as comfortable as possible with the stick, open the beer, have a drink, and try to have a good time. ”
She spins around, walking away, but I follow her. I’m not done with this argument yet. Not even close.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing.” I step in front of her, setting the bottle on the counter while she reaches up into the cupboard. The tight jeans she’s wearing hug the curve of her hips, and for a moment, all I can think about is running my hands over them, hauling her back into me.
It’d be easier to argue with her if she wasn’t so attractive. If that temper of hers didn’t draw me in at the same time as the anger pushes me away.
“Come on, Aiden. Have a little fun.”
And it’s the sound of my name on her lips that does it for me. I crack open the beer — because at least I can enjoy that — and go to sit on the couch in the corner while Honey lays at my feet, still soaking up the attention from all the people pouring in and out of the cabin.
Mia’s like your typical social butterfly.
She’s all smiles and laughs, hands on arms, leaning forward and teasing people, and moving from one person to the next like everybody in the room is her best friend.
And based on the smiles on their faces after she’s done with them, it looks like they believe it too.
That’s one of the things I don’t understand about her. How can she be so effortless when talking to people? How can she make them feel so comfortable that it’s like she’s known them their entire lives?
If that’s the way she makes other people feel, then why does she get under my skin the way she does?
Maybe I should spend time sorting through my thoughts, but I don’t want to.
Not tonight. The beer in my hand is already half gone, and the alcohol slowly entering my veins is making me think that maybe it would be a good idea to loosen up a little.
At least for the sake of seeing her smile at me the way she smiles at everybody else.
I’m halfway through my second beer when Mia comes back. She drops down on the couch beside me, one long leg crossing over the other. That infectious smile drops, but her lips still curve to the corner of her mouth.
“So,” she says, her tone light and flirty, her fingers gracing my shoulder, “are you finally starting to have fun?”
“I was having fun in my room reading my book until you turned this place into party central.”
Mia rolls her eyes and leans closer to me. Her lips are near my ear, her voice soft and low despite the music raging around us. “Come on, Aiden. Don’t you want to live a little?”
“If you came over here to start trying to pick the same fight with me again, I suggest you go. I don’t have time to do this with you right now.”
I turn my head to the side just to look at her, but then my mouth is too close to hers. Her lips nearly brush against mine as she laughs. Her gaze searches mine, and there’s something behind her eyes that I can’t quite work out.
“Hasn’t there ever been a time when you wanted to let your hair down just a little bit?” she asks, still too close to me.
My heart pounds in my chest, and all of a sudden, the front of my jeans feels a little too tight. All I can think about is the way her fingers feel on my body. If only there was a little less clothing between us and fewer people here.
“I let loose too much, and people could die.” I finish up my second beer and put it down on the table, with a slight buzz in my head, but everything is crystal clear. Two beers is the limit, always has been.
“You’re off tomorrow.” Mia nods to the calendar on the wall. “I checked before I invited everybody over. I didn’t want to interfere with your job.”
If she doesn’t want to interfere with my job, she shouldn’t be sitting next to me, looking like heaven and hell wrapped into one. She shouldn’t be making me question who I thought I was when it came to the relationships I keep with people at work.
Mia smiles, and it’s one that sends my heart crashing through my chest. “When I first met you,” she says, “I was pretty sure you were icy because you didn’t like me.”
“And now what do you think?”
She studies me for a moment. The look in her eyes makes me want to whisk her away so we can talk for a few moments alone. Which is a mistake. Getting close to people and allowing them to know you — to have expectations of you — is always going to be a mistake.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to want to know what’s going on in your head,” she says, her tone light and teasing as she reaches up to smooth a finger over the corner of my mouth. “You’re going to get frown lines if you keep looking this serious all the time.”
I’m in over my head. I can see it as plain as day, and yet there’s a part of me that wants to kiss the tip of that finger, maybe suck it into my mouth until she’s begging for me to kiss other parts of her body.
Time to pump the brakes.
“Probably better if you don’t know what’s going on up there.” The corner of my mouth twitches. “I don’t think you’d like it so much.”
What happened to pumping the brakes?