“I know!”

  “I usually write about the things and places that other people aren’t talking about. I like to bring attention to places that make a real difference for either the owner or the community.”

  If I’d thought my curiosity was piqued before, it was tenfold now. And if I’d thought I was attracted to Jase Malone five minutes ago, it was nothing compared to the desire currently running through my body.

  “Like what?”

  “Tomorrow, Val, all your questions will be answered. Promise.”

  My body heated up and tingled. It wasn’t the alcohol anymore. It was him.

  “Then, I should probably go back to my room and rest?” I said it like a question because I was afraid if I didn’t leave soon, I might end up drinking so much that he would have to carry me up to my room.

  We all knew what would happen next: I’d beg him to stay. He’d say no at first—because he was a gentleman, of course—but I wouldn’t take no for an answer. We’d have sex that would be so deliciously mind-blowing, but I’d forget all about it in the morning. Not because my mind had been blown, but because alcohol had made me forgetful. And forgetting something like that would be a crime to women everywhere.

  And I was not about to sleep with this man and then forget about it!

  That was absolutely unacceptable. If I had a manventure with Jase this weekend, I planned on remembering every single sordid detail, so I could replay it over and over again whenever I needed the inspiration.

  “I’ll meet you in the lobby at eight thirty,” he said. There was no discussion or disagreeing.

  “Eight thirty,” I said with an approving nod.

  “Don’t eat first,” he commanded.

  I pulled a twenty from my purse and set it on top of the bar. “For my drinks,” I mentioned before he started to complain, shoving it back in my direction. “Or give it to him as an extra tip.” I nodded toward the bartender at the other end of the room.

  Jase exhaled and looked slightly defeated. He didn’t like me paying for things, and I’d be damned if that didn’t turn me on even more. “Tomorrow, Val.”

  “Tomorrow, Jase. Good night.” I turned on my heel and walked away, feeling his stare on my back. A woman knew when she was being watched, and I made sure to add a sway in my hips to give him a little something extra to look at.

  You want to watch me walk away, Jase? I’ll give you something to see.

  Being on vacation mode brought out a new kind of boldness in me I’d thought I only saved for the store. Taking risks for my business seemed easy for me. I’d do whatever it took to make sure my flower shop not only survived, but also thrived.

  Taking risks with my heart and my body was always the more difficult decision. I’d always played it safe. Not to mention the fact that it had been years since I’d been single, but Jase Malone seemed worth the risk. Even if it was only just for the weekend, I’d have one hell of a story to keep me warm on those cold winter nights back home.

  JASE FREAKING MALONE

  Swiping one last coat of mascara on my eyelashes, I checked my reflection in the gold-trimmed bathroom mirror. The water here had made my usually thick, long brown hair a little flat, so I sprayed some sea salt in it for texture and body. It seemed to do the trick, and I grabbed my coat, room key, and clutch purse before heading out the door.

  I’d ended up ordering room service last night after I soaked in the tub and allowed my fantasies of Jase to take over. Dream Jase was an attentive lover, skilled in all things tongue- and finger-related. He ate me out like his life depended on it and fucked me senseless. Before I had known it, I had been climaxing, my fingers moving in and out of me as I called out his name and moaned into my otherwise empty bathroom.

  Stepping into the warm and inviting lobby, I tried to rid my mind of all X-rated thoughts, feeling like Jase could not only read me like a book, but knowing that he’d call me out on it too. But all that flew out the window the second I spotted him near the massive white stone fireplace, a beanie covering his dark locks. How could a man look that good in simple jeans and a black jacket? He was downright fuckable without even trying.

  His blue eyes snapped to mine, as if I’d said my thoughts out loud, and I tried to fight off the blush I knew was creeping into my cheeks. He didn’t stay put and wait for me to reach him like most people would. No. The second Jase spotted me, his body moved, as if almost involuntarily, in my direction. Actually, the two of us headed toward one another like we were being pulled together by some invisible rope.

  “Good morning, Val. You look beautiful,” he said with a wicked gleam in his eye that I couldn’t quite read. Before I could overanalyze it, he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me in for a kiss.

  OH MY GOD.

  Jase was kissing me.

  And I sure as hell was kissing him back.

  My mouth opened for him like it wanted him there, like his lips belonged attached to mine and nowhere else. And when his tongue pressed against my own, I swore my legs felt like they might give up and call it a day. How could they be expected to stand when he was kissing me like that?

  My fingers dug into his shoulders for balance. He moaned into my mouth, his teeth tugging at my bottom lip as he pulled away with a pop.

  “I just wanted to get that out of the way first,” he said, his tone arrogant, confident, and hot as hell.

  “Oh, so you’re telling me that would have happened at some point then?” I pretended to question his judgment just to be combative.

  “You and I both know it would have.” His tone left no room for argument. There would have been no point anyway. He was right. We both knew it.

  And I was glad he’d done it. Now, we could do it more.

  “Let’s go.”

  He reached for my hand and pulled me out the revolving door into the chilly morning air, and I went with him blindly and willingly. I thought I might follow that man anywhere he asked me to.

  Instead of questioning my judgment as frivolous and unsafe, I convinced myself that I was being adventurous and actually living a little for once. After all, I had looked him up online last night after we met, and he was exactly who he had said he was. I knew where he worked and scanned a few of his articles before pulling him up on all the social media platforms that I could find him on. For all intents and purposes, Jase Malone seemed fairly normal. And single.

  To be on the safe side, however, I decided to send Karina an email, letting her know that I was planning on spending the day with him. I’d attached all of his personal information that I had accumulated online, including links and screenshots of pictures. You know, just in case seemingly normal Jase Malone was anything but and I disappeared and was never heard from again.

  “You okay?” he asked, and I nodded.

  I reveled in the feel of my hand in his, even through the gloves. His grip was firm, tight, and I liked feeling like he was holding on for dear life ... to me. When I looked at our glove-covered hands, my insides warmed, and tingles that I hadn’t felt in years coursed through me.

  The valet brought an SUV toward us before putting the car in park and hopping out.

  “You drove here?”

  “I prefer to have a car when I’m on an assignment. That way, I can go wherever I want, whenever I want, and I’m not limited in my options,” he explained as he opened the passenger door for me and helped me inside.

  Freaking gentleman. Like I needed to like him more.

  The heater was blasting cold air at the moment, and I closed the vents before pressing the button to turn on my seat heater. Jase hopped inside and shivered.

  “Cold as fuck in here,” he swore before glancing at me, his eyes apologizing for the language even though I couldn’t have cared less. Punching in an address into the car’s GPS, he pressed Enter, and I watched the map come to life.

  His hand reached over the center console and found my thigh before resting there, his fingertips digging into my skin. Long gone were the gloves, and I liked the way he wanted to touch me all the time. He made me feel wanted, and I realized that I hadn’t felt like that in a long time. Desired. Sexy. Important.

  Jase had made me feel more in twenty-four hours than Moore had made me feel in the last two years. The first year had been different. But we had also been young and consumed with each other before heading out into the real world.

  Jase pulled the car out of the roundabout in front of the hotel and onto the main street.

  “So, where are we headed first?” I asked with a smile as excitement prickled under my skin. Today’s possibilities felt endless. Or maybe that was just how being with Jase felt.

  “The oldest saloon in town.” He grinned before adding, as if reading my mind, “Don’t worry; there’s food there.”

  “Thank God. I’m starving, and you did tell me not to eat.” I placed my hand on top of his, and our fingers intertwined. Have I ever felt so peaceful, so content? I wondered to myself. Instead of getting inside my head, I relaxed, taking in the spectacular views that surrounded me. “So, tell me about this saloon.”

  Jase looked at me for only a second before focusing back on the road, pausing only to hear the navigation bark out orders every few minutes. “I don’t know much about it. Like I said, this wasn’t my assignment, and I didn’t get that much time to research before I got here. Randy, my injured coworker, he had this meeting set up in advance, so I couldn’t cancel. He has a very different reporting style than I do.”

  “Meaning?” I asked, wanting him to continue, to tell me about his style and how it differed from his broken coworker.

  “Meaning that finding the oldest saloon in town is something that Randy would write about,” he breathed out.

  He sounded disappointed somehow, and I didn’t get it.

  “What’s wrong with that? I think it sounds great. Genuine,” I said, not seeing the issue.

  The oldest bar in town, with so much history that it probably poured out of the wood it had been made with, sounded amazing. And as a tourist, it was something I would definitely want to see and experience—if I knew about it, that was.

  “Nothing, but I bet every single travel writer who has ever come here has written about it. And I’m not saying it doesn’t deserve to have the attention but”—he glanced at me—“I think we should be talking about the places that haven’t been written about already. The things that you wouldn’t think about.”

  His words sank into my bones and settled somewhere deep inside there. I totally understood what he was saying and couldn’t even find it in me to argue. He had a point.

  “Does that make any sense?” he asked, clearly mistaking my silence for some sort of judgment.

  “Completely,” I said, my tone serious as I squeezed his hand in mine. He squeezed back.

  “I like to focus on things that are run or designed by the locals who actually live in the area. The last thing I want to do is write about the kind of places that are backed by big money. They don’t need the extra publicity. Usually, the familiarity of their name gives them all the help they need. But small businesses don’t have that luxury. Especially small businesses in small towns.”

  It felt like this man had opened up my mind and was peering inside at all my personal thoughts and opinions. I had the same exact feelings when it came to my little flower shop versus the large, coupon-discounting corporations online.

  “I get it. I totally get it. How did you become so passionate about the little guy?”

  His thumb rubbed against my skin, moving in a lazy up-and-down motion. I felt every single move his skin made against my own. “My parents owned a small jewelry store. But once the big-box store moved in down the street and sold anything anyone could ever need or want, my parents couldn’t keep up. They couldn’t match the prices, and even though the neighborhood wanted to support my family and keep them in business, it didn’t make sense for them to pay twice as much for the same product. They lost the store, and it broke their hearts. Mine too.”

  My own heart ached in my chest from just hearing that story. I imagined what it must have been like for him to watch his parents lose everything they’d worked so hard for. And then I imagined what it would be like if that happened to me and my store. I’d be beyond devastated. Beyond destroyed. I’d have no heart left.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get so depressing.”

  “You didn’t. And I respect what you’re doing. As a business owner, it’s really hard to compete, and I can imagine how frustrating it must be to continually be overlooked if, say, you’re the second-oldest saloon in Vail,” I said with a slight laugh, “instead of the first one.”

  “You know, I never asked you what you did for work,” he mentioned casually, and I’d known this question was coming.

  I hesitated for only a second before I blurted out, a little too excited, “I own a flower shop!” I felt the smile take up my whole face. I loved what I did. I was proud of it, lived for it, and refused to lose it.

  “Yeah? Really?” His face lit up too, like he was surprised and impressed, all rolled into one.

  “Really. Going on three years now.”

  “Val, that’s amazing. Is it successful?” He gave me a weird look before adding, “Sorry, that was rude. I just meant, is it hard to compete with the big-name floral shops and online sites?”

  I shook my head. “Yes, and no. The one thing they have that I don’t is money on a grander scale. Which means they have the ability to run huge marketing and promotional campaigns that I can’t afford to run. But they’re also nationwide, and I’m not. So, in essence, they’re competing with every flower shop in every state, and I’m only competing locally. They can never provide the kind of one-on-one customer service that I can. I think there’s something special about knowing your customers by name and having an actual store that they can walk into, so they can see and pick their flowers instead of viewing pictures online.”

  “Pictures that end up looking nothing like the actual flowers that get delivered,” he added with a frown.

  “Exactly! I mean, who offers sunflowers year-round? It’s not even possible. But people don’t know that. They think if there’s a picture with sunflowers in it, then that’s what they’re sending. But, hello, sunflowers don’t grow in the winter.”

  Jase laughed. It was deep and throaty and masculine. “I agree wholeheartedly with everything you just said. Especially about the sunflowers. Maybe I’ll convince my boss to let me do an article on your shop.”

  I let out an awkward laugh. “Oh, right. I’m sure your big, fancy magazine doesn’t care about my tiny, local store.”

  I started to get nervous. Whatever this thing between us was, it would only last for the weekend. At least, that was what I had assumed, and that was as far into the fantasy my brain had let me go. Him talking about writing up my store meant that we’d see each other again. Back home. In the real world. I wasn’t sure that was even what I wanted.

  Was I ready to jump into something again? I’d been single for, like, two seconds. Maybe Jase was just trying to be nice, and he wasn’t even thinking about any of this like I was.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he cut through my inner noise and asked.

  I tossed him a small frown. “Who says anything is? Maybe I’m a blank canvas. Nothing going on in here.” I knocked on the side of my head like it was made of wood.

  “You make a face when you’re lost in thought,” he mentioned casually, as if that wasn’t something that took most people months to figure out.

  But I was quickly learning that Jase wasn’t most people.

  And I had no idea if I liked that or not.

  GOLDEN BEARS

  After meeting with the owners of the first original saloon, we spent the rest of the afternoon going to various stores on a list Jase had made, which were off the beaten path. As I watched him, I understood what Jase had meant. He asked questions that most wouldn’t think of, and I knew he was searching for just the right angle for his writing. The right kind of hook that would make people actually want to go out of their way and leave their resort to visit these places.

  He asked personal questions, learned their history, and by the time we left, I felt invested in every store owner we had met. I cared about their success. I wanted them to succeed.

  Jase did that. He had made me feel that way.

  “You’re really good at this,” I said as we got into the car, my nose feeling like it might fall off. I was so cold.

  His steel-blue eyes looked through me as he leaned over the middle console and kissed my lips. Every time he did that, I felt a jolt of surprise tear through me. He was exhilarating.

  “Good at what? And I’m not fishing for a compliment either. I truly am asking.”

  “You’re good at making people feel important. Like what they do matters. You made those owners feel valued. And you made me want to support them,” I explained as he pulled off his beanie and ran his fingers through his messy hair. “Not everyone can do that.”

  I swore I saw him start to blush, and I wondered if I’d somehow embarrassed him.

  “Thank you. That means a lot.” He sounded so sincere.

  “Do you know what you’re going to write about?” I asked as he navigated the roads back to our hotel.

  “I’m still working on it. I think so. I just want to firm something up.” He glanced at me for a quick second. “You up for walking around the shops by the hotel?”

  It wasn’t like I had anything better to do than to spend more time with this sexy man. “Definitely,” I said, sounding enthusiastic, and his face lit up.

  “Good. Then, maybe we can grab dinner at one of the more tourist places and see how it compares to where we just were,” he directed.

  “I’m actually interested to see how the stores around our hotel contrast to the ones farther away,” I started to explain. “I feel like the resort shops will be”—I paused for a second while I picked the right word—“fancier? Bougier? Snobbier?” I added with a laugh. “That sounds rude, but it’s not what I mean.”

 

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