Matchmaker Backfire

It’s his lucky day as it turns out.

Some woman who looks more like a bundled up Barbie doll than anything else rushes from the bar into his cab once I tell the concierge there’s one if anyone needs it.

“She leaving so soon?” I ask him, casting my gaze to the check-in form after shuddering. She pauses to look like she recognizes me, but fortunately keeps going.

“It’s the weather I’m afraid,” he explains in a low voice. “Haven’t had anything like this for a while… we won’t mind if you choose not to stay, but there’s no refund on deposits, and if we do shift to a weather emergency… well…” he adds dryly, running his thick white tongue around his lips.

I shrug.

“I’m all set,” I tell him, lifting my single bag high enough for him to see, already looking forward to a hot shower and an early night.

Greg and Serena will be up tomorrow, and unless there’s a category five blizzard coming, I know Greg will have his chains on the SUV and be here as planned. If he wasn’t going to be, I would’ve heard by now.

Greg’s no dummy. He’s the state manager for an SUV accessories manufacturer.

I almost wish I’d gotten a ride up with him, would’ve saved my nerves but I’m here now.

Taking my key, I trudge outside again. There are rooms here, but Greg’s splashed out on adjoining cabins.

Kind of. One large cabin has been divided into three separate cabin rooms.

The concierge almost insisted he show me the way, but the white outside only made his icy smile a little colder.

Letting myself into my room, I wonder which adjoining room or cabin will have Serena in it.

I shake my head, groaning softly as I remind myself to stop thinking like this.

She’ll be here soon and you can’t think like that. I think happy thoughts about Greg. About old times…

About Serena by that pool.

I’m practically growling by the time I tear off my two-day old clothes, ready to step under a steaming shower.

My pants catch on the one thing I can’t ignore.

About nine inches of throbbing hard on that make me suck air in through my teeth as I fight the urge not to rub it raw, and shoot thick ropes just thinking about her now.

I can’t.

I mustn’t.

I have to save it...for her. Every last drop. Every fucking inch.

Chapter Three

Serena

“This looks like pretty thick weather dad. Are you sure you’ll have the whole week off?” I ask, grimacing at the sky as we leave the house.

Knowing what the forecast said.

“It’s fine, honey. I got the chains in the back, plus. What better weather for skiing and snuggling, right?” he asks, slapping his own thigh as we pull out onto the road, both of us glad to be moving closer to what we both want.

My dad? His best friend he hasn’t seen properly for almost two decades and trying to set up with a plastic doll I’m sure of it.

Me? A growing heat between my legs that I have to fight rubbing against, despite the already warm cab of dad’s SUV whenever I think of Carter.

Which is the whole way. Almost.

“Sorry,” Dad finally says, sensing my mood and making me twitch when he rubs my leg.

“I know you have a thing for Carter,” he says off the cuff, making me flush so red I feel like my face is bleeding.

“No, I don’t!” I protest, sounding wounded.

Feeling it in my chest.

Knowing he’d never love me not just because I’m young, but because…

Well. I’m my dad’s daughter. His best friend.

“I saw your phone honey,” Dad chimes, eyeing the road and focusing on anything but me.

“I don’t blame ya. He’s a handsome man, but I tell ya, sweetie, Vermont is gonna be crawling with young… eligible men.”

I catch my Dad’s eyes in the rearview. I know what he means.

He wants me to find romance on our little trip too.

As far as he knows, and God knows I told him college was nothing for me in that department.

I almost retort with his own romance efforts.

The situation with my mom, but I know that’s a low blow so I skip it.

“I dunno what you mean,” I rasp, twirling my hair and stifling a whimper as I picture myself unzipping Carter for the millionth time this trip.

I hope I can at least look him in the eye by the time we get there.

“I mean honey, that Carter’s a grown man, old enough to be your father,” he adds, an edge in his voice I don’t care for much.

Not during one of my Carter fantasies, especially.

“I mean, that you should be thinking about boys your own age. Carter would never-” he starts to say but stops himself.

I feel a stabbing in the center of my chest.

“Never what?” I ask defiantly, feeling all the heat rushing to my face as my voice cracks.