Page 40 of Unhitched

Chapter twenty-three

Kace

Putting pressure on the heel edge of my snowboard brings me to a stop, chattering on the firmly packed snow in the base area.

The abrupt end to my ride sends powder flying from under my board and off my helmet and jacket.

That last line was insane with a sketchy cliff band that almost ate me alive, but I was able to stomp the landing and ride it out as the powder flew around me.

I may have missed most of the season, but a day like this makes up for it quickly.

The only thing that would have been better is if I hadn’t let those ‘Would You Rather?’ questions run on repeat through my mind–if I hadn’t had visions of Mya under me, along with her zebra comforter, her blonde curls splayed across her pillowcase as she looked up at me.

I’ve been trying so hard to shove any need I have for her deep down inside, but every time she flirts–especially when she says something sexual and desperately honest–more of my resolve withers away like an Avenger after The Snap.

I couldn’t stop a new scenario playing out in my head with each run down the mountain. You’d think an entire day of fantasizing would be enough to expel the ideas from my mind, but apparently not. I lift my goggles from my face before falling back on my ass to unclip my bindings.

I gauge my surroundings, the sun beginning its descent on one side, and the final stragglers from the mountain heading toward the lodge on the other. A liftie walks past me, and I turn back to see that the lift has stopped spinning for the night.

Damn. How late is it? I bite the tip of my glove, tugging to free my hand.

The chill of the air prickles my skin, matching the sting on my face.

Digging into the Velcro pocket of my snow pants, I pull out my phone and tap the screen.

5:17 . It’s not as late as I thought. I still have time to find Mya, check into our rooms, shower and get situated before we need to hunt down this guy.

His girlfriend hired us because she’s convinced he’s cheating on her.

So the plan is for Mya to hang around him and see if he tries to make a pass at her.

If he doesn’t, Mya will actively flirt to see if he takes the bait, just to make sure.

This entire job is idiotic if you ask me.

If this girl is so convinced her boyfriend is cheating on her, why would she want to be with him in the first place?

Not to mention, if this guy is shitty enough to cheat on his girlfriend, then I don’t fucking like the idea of Mya being that close to him.

At least I’ll be there to keep an eye on the situation.

Standing, I take my helmet off, the cool air freezing the sweat in my hair. With helmet and gloves in one hand and my board under my other arm, I head toward the lodge. I stop by the rack and secure my board. I’ll take it to my truck when we go to grab our overnight bags.

Walking toward the patio of the lodge, I check my phone again.

There’s nothing from Mya. I took a break for lunch earlier and found her sitting next to the fireplace, drinking hot cocoa and reading what looked like a Christmas book.

The title was some play on The Grinch , which brought about more questions aside from her being in a holiday mood in March.

But I didn’t want to interrupt her focus, and I figured we’d get dinner together at the end of the day.

It’s not like she’s required to check in with me.

I pull open the heavy wooden door with its brass handle.

Taking a step inside, I feel warmer with each inch the door closes, trapping me in a loud bustling room.

For such a small bar, it holds a lot of people.

I scan the place. To the left are scattered couches near the fire, full of couples cuddling and friends playing life-size Jenga.

Mya isn’t there any longer. The rooms weren’t ready earlier in the day, but I don’t think she’d check in without me.

Maybe she moved to one of the booths on the opposite side.

My eyes shift toward the bar straight ahead.

Oh. Hell no.

I freeze in the entryway.

Mya touches some douchebag’s arm, her hand resting on his bicep as she laughs at something he said.

Her smile is bright, and she looks so fucking cozy in her oversized sweatshirt and leggings that make her ass look too fucking good in the glow from the lights behind the bar.

She’s not wearing her beanie anymore, and her blonde curls bounce as she laughs.

The guy takes a step closer to Mya, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Absolutely fucking not.

She’s not yours, man. It doesn’t fucking matter what she does or who she does it with.

He’s just a regular fucking guy, flipping his hair in a way that was only cool in 2007 when Ryan Sheckler did it. She could do so much better.

Oh. Shit.

I think that guy is the one . The guy we were hired to find. A breath of relief leaves me. She’s not actually into him. But still. Mya was not supposed to do this on her own.

She’s not into him, right? I try to inspect her body language from across the dimly lit room. Her arm has moved to rest on the bartop, and her thumb picks at the corner. They’re not touching, but his sweatshirt is brushed against hers .

Her eyes remain impressively locked on his, but he’s not even paying attention to the ways she’s clearly uncomfortable. One of her arms is folded across her stomach with a fistful of sweatshirt fabric. She’s twisted slightly away from the bar rather than directly toward him.

A gust of cool air hits my back, and I turn to see a couple walking in the door behind me. I pull my attention back to Mya, but that two seconds costs me. His hand is on her waist, and he’s leaning in.

I take a step, but it’s a step too late. His lips are on hers.

He sure as shit is a cheater, and that’s all the information we need before we get the fuck out.

Thankfully, Mya pulls back before I even reach them, and it’s the only thing reassuring me that she wasn’t into him. But still. They kissed. Her lips were on his. And not mine.

The intensity with which that thought slams into me nearly knocks me back out the door. I’m swept straight out of delusion because now there’s no way I can deny how much I want to touch her–especially after watching someone else do it.

Her head jerks to me, but my eyes are still on him. He’s watching her like “what the fuck happened?” and I’m two seconds away from punching this guy.

I flash my gaze to Mya to find her looking at me like a Mogwai who took a bite of food after midnight. I didn’t think I was that mad, but her wide eyes say she thinks I’m about to turn into a Gremlin and fuck up anything in my wake. “I suggest you get the fuck away from her.”

The guy’s eyes snap to me. He takes a step back, putting his hands up in defense. “Sorry, man. I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. I would have never made a move.”

Yeah, sure he wouldn’t have. Piece of shit. I narrow my eyes. “You need to leave.”

“You can’t kick me out of here.” He puffs his chest, trying to get in my space. I have at least four inches on him and way more muscle. He’s the kind of guy who somehow makes it look like he works out but doesn’t actually do shit. I could take him in a heartbeat.

“Where else am I supposed to go?” he snaps.

“Go Ask Jeeves,” I snap back, and a giggle escapes Mya until she slaps her hands over her mouth.

He glances at her for a second before focusing back on me. “Fuck you,” he spits before turning on his heel and storming off. I don’t doubt he’ll find a replacement for Mya soon, and I feel bad for his girlfriend. Hopefully this at least gives her the information she needs to leave his sorry ass.

When I turn back to Mya, she’s scowling at me. “What?” I ask.

All her amusement from a moment ago is gone. “What the heck was that, Kace?!”

“What do you mean? That prick touched you when you’re not his to touch.”

“Oh yeah? And who do I belong to?” She flings her arms into the air as if it punctuates her sentence.

Fuck me. That did not come out right. I take a step closer and face her, pressing my palm against the bar. “I meant he has a girlfriend.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” she snaps. “I was literally hired by her.”

“You were supposed to wait for me. We’re supposed to do this together,” I defend, knowing damn well she doesn’t need me for any of these jobs.

“So sue me. I came to the bar to ask for a dinner menu because I thought you’d be hungry when you got here. When I looked up, he happened to be here too. I wasn’t going to miss an opportunity.”

“You could have waited until later.”

“No, Kace. I couldn’t have. He started talking to me. I had to shoot my shot before he disappeared with someone else.”

I know she’s not wrong, but I’m still irritated as fuck. “You have to be more careful.”

Her brows pinch together with a deeper glare.

She’s pissed, but she’s fucking cute. Her emerald eyes glow in the overhead bar light, the freckles sprinkled across her nose more noticeable since she’s hardly wearing makeup.

Her fists are curled into the sleeves of her sweater.

“Stop telling me what to do.” With a huff, she turns and walks away from me.

“Where are you going?” I yell after her, surprised more people aren’t paying attention to us.

“Far, far away,” she screams over her shoulder, and for once, my brain knows exactly how to fix this.

“Say hi to Lord Farquaad for me,” I shoot after her, really fucking pleased with myself.

She freezes, spins on the heels of her Uggs and holds my stare. I stay where I’m at. “Okay. That was funny, but I’m still pissed.”

“How can I make it up to you?” I only give her a half grin, not trying to press my luck.

“Let’s just get checked in and find some dinner. Maybe we’ll both be less angry after we eat.”

“As you wish.” I motion toward the exit with my hand, not being able to hide a smile this time.

She shakes her head, biting into her lip like it’ll hold her grin at twenty percent power. “Just because you figured out the way to my heart, doesn’t mean you can get away with things, Westley.”

I take a few steps until I’m right behind her. “You got it, Buttercup.” I wink, meaning the nickname playfully, but loving the way it reminds me of the night she got drunk at the apartment down the hall.

She rolls her eyes, but I have a feeling she’s smiling as I follow her to the check-in desk.