Same applies to seeing friends.

  I turn on the faucet, adjust the temp, and take a speedy wake-me-up shower.

  A few minutes later, I’m dried off and getting dressed.

  And River’s still sound asleep.

  I stand in the doorway of the bathroom, tugging on a casual button-down, enjoying the sight in front of me.

  This man.

  A reel of what we did in this bed last night flickers before my eyes. A jolt runs through me, and my cheeks heat.

  Best sex of my life?

  Yes. Yes, it was. Because it was so much more than sex. I’m reminded of what TJ said to me about the sexy times in his stories. They’re about things like intimacy, trust, opening your heart.

  Last night in bed sure felt like the start of that, and today, I’ll continue it.

  So, hey, River, when you asked what I was into last night, and I said you, I meant it in every way. I am so into you. I am so in love with you. I want you to be mine and I’ll be yours, and I hope you feel the same.

  When I fasten the last button, I gather up our used towels, and exit the guest room. Stopping at the laundry room, I toss the towels in a hamper, then head to the living room, where I quickly straighten things up. I put board games away, then grab the BMW Blow Job Extravaganza blanket, and drop it in the laundry too.

  There.

  The place looks decent again, like two dudes didn’t bang all night in a bunch of the rooms.

  Three rooms, to be precise.

  Kitchen, living room, guest room.

  Quite a triumvirate of sex, if I do say so myself. I laugh quietly, pride surging through me, then head into the kitchen to hunt for coffee, since man can’t survive on hot cocoa in the morning.

  As I open the cupboards, a rattling sound hits my ears.

  My phone.

  I haven’t looked at it since we played Would You Rather. Grabbing the device, I spot a text notification flashing across the screen.

  TJ: Better wrap up that eggplant, buddy. Tobey is on his way.

  Tobey? Oh. Nisha’s cousin. With a kernel of dread digging into my chest, I click on the next one.

  TJ: Also, Nisha doesn’t know you have a thing for your bud, and I couldn’t really intervene and tell her since not my place and also not cool. Ergo, I didn’t stop her from sending Tobey your way this morning. But it’s kinda your fault since you didn’t answer any of my texts last night asking how it was going. Which either meant: 1) You confessed your love and got the dicking of a lifetime. 2) You confessed it, were rejected, and promptly drowned your sorrows in a bottle of Patron, and now you’re praying to the porcelain god, and if so, I’m sorry, bud, and I feel for you. Or 3) You didn’t man up and instead played Parcheesi all night.

  * * *

  TJ: If it’s option three, I’m going to name my next villain after you. And by name, I mean use your first name and last name in the book. So, your answer better be one, for your own good.

  The dread deepens as I click over to Nisha’s messages from this morning.

  Nisha: My imaginary helicopter is still in the shop but my real one is on its way. Tobey will be there soon to pick up you and River. And I know what you’re thinking—that I only want you here for the farm veggies you’re bringing. (Truth—I’m addicted to them, and you know it, you enabler.) But mostly, I want to see you. So, I’m doing what I do best. Making it happen. See you soon, O!

  And the dread wins, upending all my plans for the day.

  Cursing up a storm, I check the time, then the time of Nisha’s text. She sent it about forty minutes ago. Tahoe is thirty minutes from here in good weather.

  Which means . . .

  A flash of bright green appears in the corner of my eye.

  Sporting big black pawprints.

  Then, the crunch of tires on gravel lands on my ears.

  It sounds like Darth Vader’s theme song.

  There is no holing up in this cabin, there is no love confession, and there is no private moment to tell River I want him to be the start and end of my days.

  Nope, not when Tobey’s green vet-mobile pulls into the driveway and parks right next to River’s little red car. Nisha’s cousin is a mobile vet in Tahoe, and I wish he were here to tend to a four-legged friend instead of a two-legged mammal who should have said something last night.

  This is the problem when you wait for a perfect opportunity.

  You miss it.

  Before Tobey gets out of his van, I speed down the hall, turn into the bedroom, and cross the distance to the bed. The man I’m in love with is still fast asleep.

  A soft snore fills the silence. Holy fuck, that’s cute. I’m so going to give River a hard time about snoring.

  But first, I set a hand on his shoulder and gently rustle him. “Hey, you.”

  Flipping to his side, River’s eyes fly open and he sits bolt upright. “Did they deliver the jelly beans? I’m not making Moscow mules with those. Send them back.”

  I drop my head to my hand, laughing hard. “River, you’re dreaming.”

  River blinks, rubs his eyes, meets my gaze. “No jelly bean delivery?”

  I shake my head. “You don’t use jelly beans in Moscow mules. We’re in Markleeville. In Declan’s mom’s cabin. Nisha just sent her cousin to take us to her place. He’s here.”

  River furrows his brow, then yawns deeply. “Ohhhh. Right. Okay.”

  His gaze drifts down to the covers, sliding below his hips, giving me a tantalizing view of his V-line. But right when I’m about to say, “Damn, you look good” the doorbell chimes.

  An insistent church bell sound.

  River sighs again and tosses the cover to the side, and I groan in appreciation of the naked sight of him.

  “Let me make myself presentable,” he says, then strides across the room. My eyes follow him as he heads to the bathroom.

  Then I leave and go straight for the front door.

  I swing it open.

  Nisha’s cousin looks nothing like her. Nisha takes after her mom’s side of the family, her Indian heritage strongly represented in her striking features. Tobey’s the spitting image of the actor who played the best Spiderman.

  The one he shares the first name with. He has the same youthful vibe too, which tracks, since Nisha’s told me he’s some kind of whiz kid, and finished college and vet school early.

  He gestures dramatically to the green van. “Your Friendsgiving chariot awaits,” he says.

  “Thanks for the save. By the way, I’m Owen,” I say, extending a hand for him to shake.

  “Tobey,” he says.

  “Why don’t you come in for a few? River is just getting ready. And I should straighten up the kitchen.”

  Nisha’s cousin steps inside, and I shut the door.

  The spell of last night is officially broken.

  19

  Owen

  As I dry the hot cocoa pan with a dish towel, Tobey surveys the digs.

  “Not gonna lie. I felt a little bit like a Navy Seal coming to rescue you,” he says, sighing happily.

  “The Navy Seal Friendsgiving Cabin Retrieval Operation? Codename: Fetch the City Guys?”

  “Exactly. I was all covert ops when I was driving up the hill, braving the elements,” he says.

  “Don’t Navy Seals save people from water and foreign dictators?”

  Tobey waves an arm airily. “Melting snow. Bad road conditions. It’s all the same.” He swats my arm. Friendly dude, this guy. “C’mon, work with me. This is like my one and only opportunity to come through and be badass.”

  Smiling, I tuck the pot away in the cupboard. “You save animals’ lives. That’s already badass.”

  He raises a make-a-point finger. “That is true. I’m going to start calling myself the Badass Vet.” Tobey lifts his wrist, checks the time on his watch. “Is your friend taking the world’s longest shower?”

  I flash back to yesterday, to the way I ribbed River about his time spent getting ready, then to last night. The two minutes we spent in the shower cleaning up after sex. Will it be the last shower I take with him? Or the first of many?

  I wish I knew.

  “Some guys like long showers. But he’ll be out any second, I’m sure,” I say, using my best diplomatic-PR-guy voice, sliding into my I-can-smooth-over-any-situation tone. “Why don’t we load up?”

  “Like a Navy Seal would do. I like it,” Tobey says, and we grab the cooler with the veggies, River’s with the pie, then my backpack.

  Trudging outside, I head down the steps through the thin blanket of snow. It’s hardly a blanket now though. More like a sheet.

  That’s good, technically. We can get to Nisha’s. See all my friends. Have a good time. That’s the point of this.

  We load up the van, then return to the house, where River waits in the kitchen.

  With damp hair, and question marks in his eyes, he says to Tobey, “If my dog collects my socks and brings them to her dog bed, does that mean she’s building a nest, giving me gifts, or has a foot fetish?”

  Tobey laughs. “Gifter. You have a gifter. Means she loves you,” he says, then holds out a hand for River to shake. “I’m Tobey.”

  “I’m River. Nice to meet you, and thanks for the rescue. There is no way my hot little tamale of a Honda would have made it out today, even though the roads look a lot better.”

  “Tomorrow, I’ll drive you back here to get your car,” Tobey says, and that timing sounds great. I can run the laundry, make the bed, and do any final straightening in the cabin. Our driver taps his watch. “But my cousin is demanding. She wants what she wants. And she wants the two of you.”

  He pats my shoulder and River’s, then tips his forehead to the van. Time to vamoose.

  River grabs his bag, heads to the door and tosses one last look behind him. Maybe it’s just me being stupidly hopeful, but that sure seems like a lingering look.

  Ten minutes later, I’m in the middle seat of the vet-mobile, wedged next to a few dog crates, with an exam table behind me. River’s in the front, and Nisha’s cousin is scrolling through podcasts. He points to one. “Check this. An unsolved murder right here in the Tahoe region. You want to listen to that? It’s bone-chilling.”

  “Ooh, is it the Templeton case?” River asks, dripping with curiosity, then he course-corrects. “Wait, wait. I hate murder podcasts. Can’t do it.”

  Tobey arches a brow as we roll through town. “Are you sure? It sounded like you liked them.”

  “I forgot how much I hate them,” River says with a can-you-believe-it shrug.

  Tobey chuckles. “You forgot you hate them? How does that happen?”

  River taps his temple. “My brain is seriously sluggish in the morning. Happens to the best of us.”

  The man I slept with last night casts a glance to the back seat and winks at me. That wink and that seriously sweet gesture are going to have to feed me for several hours, I suspect.

  Time to pretend I’m at work, talking to a reporter, making conversation. “Hey, Tobey. What’s it like being a mobile vet? You must have all kinds of stories.”

  The rest of the ride I learn that he finished vet school at age twenty-one, since he finished college at age eighteen. I also hear about a parrot that wouldn’t stop swearing, a cat that refused to eat anything but potatoes, and a dog with a blueberry allergy.

  It’s fascinating. Truly, it is. This just isn’t the way I wanted to spend the morning.

  But that’s entirely my fault for waiting too long.

  Soon, we roll into Tahoe, cruise past downtown, and head for Nisha’s place. When we pull up in front of the barn-size home she rented, she’s outside, one of those tent-like sweaters that falls to her knees wrapped around her, her silky brown hair blowing gently in the breeze. With one hand on her hip, she wags a finger at me. “I saved you,” she says when I get out of the car.

  “With your imaginary helicopter,” I say. Friends truly do have the best of intentions. I’ve got to remember that. I can certainly handle a day of bonding with some of our buddies before I grab a private moment with River. Surely, the perfect opportunity will present itself.

  Nisha jerks me in for a hug.

  And wait.

  There’s something there that wasn’t there before.

  A bump.

  I step back. “Nisha . . .”

  She dances a jig, her smile wider than the sky, her deep brown eyes twinkling with all the stars. “We’re going to be moms,” she says with a smile, patting her basketball belly. “Hailey and I are having a baby. We wanted to surprise everyone. And I wanted to tell you in person, obviously. That’s why I had to fetch you. I wanted to share the news with everyone and you’re the last one here so now everyone knows.”

  I beam, thrilled for my good friend. “I’m so happy for you and Hailey. How far along are you?”

  “Seven months,” she says, then waves at River, calls him in for a hug too.

  He slides in so naturally, wrapping his arms around her. “Congratulations to you and your wife,” he says, giving her a kiss on the cheek too. “When are you due? Are you going to have a shower? If so, you’ve got to try the guess-the-baby-photo-of-the-guests game, but please promise me you won’t play that awful dirty diaper game?”

  “How do you know so much about baby showers?” I ask, flummoxed.

  River shoots me a breezy look. “Give someone a drink and they talk about everything. Just last week, these two guys in leather were planning a baby shower for their surrogate. I also told them to avoid the dirty diaper game.”

  “Are they going to play a leather game instead?” Nisha asks.

  “If there is one, I bet they will,” River says.

  “I don’t even know what the dirty diaper game is,” I say.

  Nisha pats my arm. “Trust me, O. You don’t want to know.”

  We go inside, and all my PR peeps are here including Reese Fallon, a fun and brainy sports publicist I outsource work to sometimes. She’s a rising star in the San Francisco sports publicity world, and she’s also involved with one of the baseball players on the team I work for—our All-Star second baseman, Holden Kingsley. He’s a great guy, and I truly like working with him.

  But all of a sudden, I feel like I’m at work.

  And I have to slide into let’s-keep-everyone-happy mode.

  Everyone excluding me.

  20

  River

  The universe clearly has something against me. Eros, or Cupid, or whoever, is cursing me.

  There’s no other explanation for the magical fucking dog van to have appeared. It’s like that kids’ book, with Ms. Frizzle and the bus that traveled underwater, and through the solar system, and back in time, and fuck that bus.

  All I wanted was to sit down with Owen and talk, and ask if he thinks we can pull this off. If he’d be willing to break that pact we made. If he can throw the Harry and Rod rule to the wolves.

  I have no idea if he’ll say yes or break my heart like the Big Dick Law dictates he will.

  So instead of talking to Owen about all things D and L-O-V-E, I’m making drinks at three o’clock on a Saturday.

  Cheers to me.

  At the makeshift bar, aka kitchen counter, I whip up a martini for Jillian and an old-fashioned for her husband, Jones. “Beauty and brains before brawn,” I say to the woman who runs her own boutique PR agency in the city, and her football player hubs, giving her the drink first.

  “And to think we were almost stuck with just wine, until a real bartender arrived,” she says.

  “Surely that’s why Nisha sent the dog van for me,” I say as I measure out the whiskey.

  “And I’m so glad she did.” Jillian takes a sip of her drink and gives an approving moan. “This is divine.”

  “You’re going to make me jealous, babe,” Jones says in a deep rumbly voice that suits his big frame.

  I wag a finger. “No jealousies at my traveling bar, hun. All my drinks are equally divine.”

  “Excellent,” Jones says, and when I slide an old-fashioned his way, he joins in the drink moaning too.

  They’re a fun couple—she has an Ali Wong vibe about her, and he’s the all-American football star with a dry wit. Ordinarily, I’d chat them up about the sport, work, and dogs, since they train their Chihuahua mixes to do agility competitions.

  But I’m not in my best mood today, so I return to mixing and slinging drinks, serving up concoctions for the other guests. Like Tobey, who’s single, as well as Brooks and Steven, who remind me of Jesse Williams and Tom Ellis. They both do non-profit PR and have been together nearly a year. And Reese and Holden, one of Owen’s PR friends and her baseball player beau who’s on Owen’s team.

  Which means Owen is wearing his game face as he slices carrots.

  He can’t help it. Every time he interacts with a ball player, his instinct is to look out for their needs. It’s why he’s good at his job. It’s why he’s risen up through the ranks at the San Francisco Dragons.

  But it’s also bugging the hell out of me today.

  Then again, everything is, and I hate being annoyed.

  It’s not in my nature.

  And yet . . .

  “You have to do the Big Dipper run on Heavenly, Reese. It’s exhilarating,” Owen tells the blonde, then turns to Holden. “But you will just sit and wait in the ski lodge like a good second baseman who’s not allowed to play any sports besides baseball.”

  Holden salutes him. “Aye-aye, boss.”

  I bristle, annoyance ratcheting up in me.

  And I definitely need a drink now, since there’s no way Owen is going to let down his guard here, so I mix myself an old-fashioned too.

  Another tall, strapping man—I’m not complaining about the eye candy, even though there’s only one piece of candy I want—shifts closer to me. “Want to send one of those bad boys my way?” TJ asks as he pulverizes potatoes with a masher.