Based on the look of hatred she’d shot my way, there would never be a time to fantasize about them. Not unless I felt like torturing myself with a case of blue balls.

  Which I must’ve because even knowing it was a shit idea, my attention was split between listening to my cousin and thinking about Posey. My brain kept turning over the interaction with her, trying to figure out where the hell it’d gone wrong.

  When we reached the hotel, Hutch smiled. “The women are still in the bar if you want to swing by and say hey with me.”

  I’d rather give myself a rectal exam with a snowboard.

  Sideways.

  “Another time,” I muttered. There was only one woman I wanted to say hey to, and she thought I was a prick for reasons unknown.

  Is this what it’s like being Jake? Or Kase, Lars, or Nox for that matter? It’s exhausting.

  And borderline pathetic.

  My boss and friend, Jake Hyde, had been the first in our crew to fall. And fall like the Roman Empire he did. He was wrapped up and pathetic—no borderline about it—when it came to his wife. That wasn’t an insult. He’d be first to admit he was addicted to Piper.

  To say the man was in love wasn’t just an understatement, I was pretty sure it would be a straight up lie. It was something more than that.

  I wasn’t saying I felt that way about Posey. A night of flirting, smiles, and that fuckin’ voice of hers was good, but I wasn’t completely insane.

  That didn’t mean she wasn’t under my skin, though. More than I’d expect from a single interaction.

  I chalked my obsession up to not knowing what’d caused her abrupt mood swing. I hated mysteries. At the garage, if something wasn’t fitting together right, I was the one everyone called because I wouldn’t stop ‘til I figured it out.

  I might swear, kick shit, and threaten to take a wrecking bar to a multimillion-dollar car, but I’d still figure that shit out when all was said and done.

  Going to my room, I forced myself to accept it was a mystery that would go unsolved. Winter Falls may be a small town, but it was packed. It was unlikely I’d run into Posey again. And even I knew going door to door in hunt of her was less Cinderella’s Prince Charming and more creepy-ass stalker.

  I stripped down and was about to jump in the shower when my cell vibrated with a text. Expecting it to be Hutch trying to lure me back down to the viper’s den—otherwise known as the bar with the bridesmaids—I was tempted to ignore it. But since there was a chance it was one of the Hyde guys, I grabbed it. Even if they were drunk and gloating about food, gossiping, or just being lovable idiots, it would be entertaining.

  Unknown: Eli?

  Me: Who is this?

  Unknown: Your worst nightmare.

  Since my friends had experienced more than their fair share of drama, stalkers, and general bullshit, the message immediately set me on edge.

  And the following one did nothing to pull me back from it.

  Unknown: I’m just fucking with you. But is this Eli Becker? Works at Hyde Garage outside of Boston? Drives a Harley and a vintage Chevelle, and is way too into craft beer? As someone we both know would say, it’s a beverage not a personality trait, man.

  If I wasn’t so tense, I’d have smiled at the barb. But I was in no mood for jokes.

  Me: Who is this?

  Unknown: I’ll take that as a yes. It’s Demi, Posey’s friend. But you can just call me your new fairy godmother.

  I was tempted to ask how the hell she’d gotten my number, but I went with the more pressing question.

  Me: What the hell happened earlier?

  Unknown: Ask your friend in the pleated khakis.

  What the hell?

  I had no friend who wore khakis. Definitely none who wore pleated ones.

  Before I could respond, another text came through.

  Unknown: Posey will be at Peak 7 Local tomorrow night at 7. If you’re not the asshole she thinks you are, this is your chance to set things straight.

  Unknown: But if you are an asshole, stay the hell away. And let the fact I found your info in minutes serve as a warning.

  Invasion of privacy aside, Demi appeared to be on my side, so I went with honesty.

  Me: I’m not an asshole. I’ll be there.

  Putting my phone down, I grabbed a shower before crashing.

  And for the first time during the shitty trip, I did it looking forward to what the next day would bring.

  Chapter 5

  Eli

  Old Money Thundercunts

  Fuck, I needed that.

  The wedding party was supposed to have brunch followed by a trip to the spa for facials, massages, and whatever other shit people did in those places. With not a fuckin’ ounce of guilt, I’d texted Hutch claiming stomach issues before rolling over and going back to sleep.

  I had nothing against the idea of a good massage, but since the wedding party was stressing me the hell out, it seemed counterproductive to spend the day with them.

  Instead, I’d slept later than I had in years before waking up and hitting the slopes. Not the guided tours or trails packed with tourists. I went boarding in the lesser-known area Posey had recommended. It’d been the quiet and peaceful adrenaline rush I’d needed.

  After showering and changing, I made my way to the restaurant since blowing off dinner was pushing it too far. If nothing else, I needed to touch base with Hutch and make sure I hadn’t missed anything vital.

  All while keeping a close eye on the time so I wasn’t late to where I actually wanted to be.

  I walked into the party room, going straight for the bar. If I was making it through the next couple hours, I’d need a beer.

  Before I reached my destination, I was cut off by a small cluster of old money thundercunts.

  “You found your way out,” one of them said.

  Shit, what’s his name?

  He was the bride’s brother, and people had been saying his name all trip. But my brain automatically replaced it with Dickwad.

  Thinking he was referring to me leaving my room, I just gave a tight smile and lifted my chin before going around them to the bar.

  “When you didn’t show up today,” he continued after I ordered, talking like we were old friends, “I figured you fell into a roll and got lost.”

  My brows lowered as I took a long pull from the beer bottle. “Roll?”

  “Have your pick. From what I saw last night when she bumped into me, there were plenty.”

  She?

  I turned to ask what stupidity he was spewing when my eyes landed on his khakis.

  His pleated khakis.

  Realization dawned.

  And with it…

  Rage.

  One moment, I was standing next to him holding my beer bottle. The next, the bottle was slammed onto the bar and he was slammed against it.

  With my hand at his throat.

  He may have had a couple inches on me, but it was his only advantage. I knew it and, based on the thick way he swallowed and the fear in his expression, he knew it, too. He didn’t even have numbers in his favor because his friends had stepped away like the cowardly rats they were.

  “What the fuck did you say to her, motherfucker?”

  His pasty skin flamed with embarrassment before mottling at the reduced airflow.

  Good.

  “I didn’t say anything,” he wheezed past my grip.

  “Then what did you do?”

  He forced a laugh. “We thought it was a joke, you talking to her. Hutch said you’re some big shot in Boston. Why else would you be talking to her?”

  Because she’s gorgeous.

  Funny.

  Sweet.

  And probably a whole fuckin’ list of other things I didn’t get to experience thanks to you, dickhead.

  I didn’t share any of that with him. “You sad, stupid bastard.”

  Gripping my forearm, he tried to shove my hand away, but I just pushed in harder.

  “You have your choice of any woman here,” he said, resentment and envy coating his words as thick as toxic sludge. “I don’t know why your panties are in a knot about one fat bitch.”

  Thud.

  The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the suddenly silent room. He dropped like the human equivalent of a soaked shammy. Using my grip on his throat, I pulled him back up and was about to punch him again when someone grabbed my arm.

  “Don’t break my soon-to-be brother-in-law’s nose before my wedding,” Hutch said, his tone bored.

  “Tell your soon-to-be busted the fuck up brother-in-law to tell me what he did to piss Posey off.”

  Despite not knowing what I was talking about, he didn’t hesitate. “What’d you do, Chad?”

  “I didn’t say anything,” Chad rushed out, trying to twist out of my hold.

  Trying, but failing.

  “I didn’t ask what you said, I asked what you did,” I bit out.

  “She was… We thought he was just fucking with her. It’s not my fault.”

  “What are you talking about?” Hutch still gripped my arm tightly.

  One of the other stooges finally found some balls and spoke up, telling us about the jokes Chad had made. Then, cringing, he demonstrated the physical comedy Chad had used, blowing up his cheeks and making a circle with his arms.

  Obvious, cruel, and undoubtedly witnessed by Posey.

  With a resigned sigh, Hutch released my arm. I didn’t waste a moment before reacquainting my fist with Chad’s stupid fuckin’ face.

  Hutch grabbed my other arm. “At least leave him so makeup can cover it, or Kelsey will divorce me before we’re even married.”

  Don’t see the downside.

  Luckily, I had the tenuous control to keep that thought in my head. Kelsey wasn’t my type, it wasn’t my life, and what Hutch saw in the high-maintenance woman wasn’t my business.

  I reluctantly let him pry my fingers from Chad’s neck and shove me toward the hallway that led to the main dining room.

  “Real peach of a fuckin’ family you’re marrying into,” I gritted out.

  Hutch didn’t attempt to make excuses for his future bro. “The rest of the family is great, it’s just Chad who’s an asshole. Given the dots I’ve connected, I appreciate you not murdering him two days before the wedding.”

  “The night is still young.” Rubbing the back of my neck, I couldn’t stop my words. “You must have the patience of a saint to put up with this shit all the time. A few days, and I’m ready to throw down in an alley with that motherfucker.”

  “It’s worth it.” A small, love-sick smile curved his mouth. “She’s worth it. Sure, Kelsey’s a little high-strung and a perfectionist, but she’s not like her brother.”

  I believed it. Even with all her neurotic analness, she wasn’t a bitch or anything. She’d been warm and welcoming, never looking down at me or Hutch’s friends from way back. The ones who were heavily tattooed and looked a little rougher around the edges than his fellow finance pals.

  Chad, on the other hand, had muttered more than one comment about watching his wallet around me, like I was gonna steal it.

  Why would I want to downgrade? I made bank at my job, lived well, and saved better. I’d bet dollars to Piper’s donuts that my portfolio was double Chad’s—at least.

  Hutch’s smile grew. “Plus, Chad doesn’t live anywhere near us, so we’ll only see him a few times a year.”

  I ran my palm down my face, still pissed but with a hefty dose of guilt seeping in. Kelsey was gonna flip her shit, which was more BS for Hutch to deal with right before his wedding. Not to mention, I’d fed right into Chad’s assumptions that I was some tattooed thug.

  Shit.

  “He had it coming,” Hutch said, sensing my thoughts. “Actually, he had worse coming. And, I know you’re gonna be shocked as shit to hear this, but it isn’t the first time he’s been punched.”

  “Since he’s got a punchable face, I believe it.”

  “Let me rephrase… This isn’t the first time he’s been punched by someone in this hallway.”

  “Really?” Pissed as I was, the visual of that was still enough to tip my lips.

  “First time I met him.”

  That made me feel better.

  I, at least, waited a few days.

  “You cool to go back in?” he asked.

  I checked the time then shook my head. “I’m gonna go try to set shit right with Posey.”

  “Got it.” He tilted his head toward the back door. “Sneak out that way, I’ll handle everything here.”

  “Apologize to Kelsey for me.”

  He grinned and shook his head. “Trust me, she’s not gonna be mad. She’ll just be grateful he doesn’t have a broken nose or fat lip for pictures. You showed restraint.”

  “Tell her it was my wedding gift.”

  Chapter 6

  Posey

  Emo Butterflynado

  Where the hell is Demi?

  She’d texted earlier in the day, insisting we meet at Peak 7 Local. And I do mean insisting. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, despite the plans I already had.

  According to the mayor, the storm we were expecting was going to be big, and I needed supplies. Dodgy leftovers from who knows when, old baking soda, and herbal tea wasn’t the food I wanted to be stranded with if the roads became too rough to drive on.

  But Demi said she needed help with her dating app dude. Since I was the one who’d swiped on him for her, I kinda owed her, so I’d shown when she summoned.

  Yet she hadn’t.

  I scanned the bar again, wondering if she was in the bathroom when my gaze caught on someone.

  Oh.

  Hell.

  Noooo.

  Of all the bars in all the towns, of course he had to walk into that one.

  Eli.

  That asshole.

  My instinct was to fade back into the crush of people before he saw me. But I wasn’t the only one scanning the bar. A moment later, when his gaze landed on me, he froze.

  And then he did something worse.

  He smiled.

  Like, he’d been looking for me.

  Like, he was happy to see me.

  Like, even if I’d tried, I’d never be able to fade back into the crush because he saw me.

  That didn’t stop me from trying, Demi’s drama be damned.

  Whipping around, I weaved through the crowd, heading for the door. I was almost there. Almost free. I cleared the last group, the exit in sight—and that wasn’t the only thing.

  He must’ve magically teleported because Eli stood in front of the door.

  Oh, fresh snow-covered hell.

  “Posey.” He flashed another charming smile.

  I may have wanted to record him saying my name so I could set it as my ringtone, but I still hated him. Anyone who could wield the dangerous weapon that was his smile for nefarious purposes deserved my hatred.

  “Leave me alone,” I snapped, reaching for the door when he spoke again.

  “Talking to you wasn’t a bet,” he rushed out. “I had nothing to do with that asshole.”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I rolled my eyes. Hard and emphatically. “What’s the saying about douchebag friends of a feather being assholes together?”

  Amusement lit his face, and God, he was gorgeous. “I don’t think that’s how it goes.”

  “Creative license.”

  “And he’s sure as shit not my friend. I just met him. He’s the bride’s brother.”

  Well.

  That was something.

  But maybe not enough.

  I spun around to face him, not hiding my skepticism. “Why should I believe you weren’t in on his oh-so-hilarious jokes?”

  “Because I’m not a dick, Posey.” He stepped closer, and I locked my knees to stop from stepping back. Or swaying closer. He really was magnetic. It was an unfair advantage. “Really wanna buy you a drink, pick up where we left off last night, but I get it if you’re not into it. I just need you to know my interest in you was just that. Genuine interest.”

  “Why is it so important to you?”

  Reaching up, he rubbed the back of his neck, his muscles flexing. “Because last night with you was the most fun I’ve had all trip, and I’ll be damned if I’m letting some dickwad ruin that.”

  If nothing else, we have name calling in common.

  Inhaling deeply, I studied him for any signs of deceit. I had no clue how to read faces, and since I barely knew him, I really had no clue what his tells might be. But I looked for them anyway.

  After a long moment, I relented. “One drink.”

  And was rewarded with the sexiest grin I’d ever seen.

  Once we were seated at the bar with two beers in front of us, I asked the burning question. “Did you know I’d be here?”

  He lifted his chin. “Got a new fairy godmother who texted me.”

  “Demi,” I surmised, connecting the obvious dots.

  “Yup. Don’t know how she got my number, but I’m glad she did.”

  “It’s scary what she can do with a computer and five minutes.”

  As if she was stalking us to hear our conversation, my phone dinged with a text from my favorite hacker.

  Demi: Am I the best or are you plotting my murder?

  Me: I’ll let you know in a bit. I really don’t know if I should be impressed or terrified of your skills.

  Demi: Impressed. But this one was easy. His work is kinda a big deal.

  I tucked my phone away and, like the night before, we sank into easy conversation and even easier flirting. I told him about my work as a narrator, and he wasn’t condescending about romance nor did he take it as an invitation to ask me to talk dirty—though, for him, I may have. In fact, he earned bonus points by readily admitting he routinely swiped his friend Joss’ romance novels. He told me about his job at Hyde Garage, showing me pictures on his phone of his work.

  His auto art.

  With each passing minute, more of my misgivings and suspicion faded away. The only tension was the intense, sexual kind.

  And that was growing until my stomach was filled with the butterfly version of a sharknado, and my thighs were permanently clenched.