Page 80 of Wright Kind of Trouble

“Fine.”

I huffed out a breath and actually looked around the room. I hadn’t even been paying attention. My eyes didn’t wander anymore, like they used to. I’d never been even half as bad as Blake, but I used to at least find interest. Now, not so much.

Then, my breath caught.

Because not just anyone was in this bar.

Harley Wright was in the bar.

Her blonde hair had been chopped off short again, parted severely down the middle with curtain bangs that framed her face. A softer look than when she’d had a sharp fringe a few years ago. She was in a black leather miniskirt with a black bra top and black metal studded boots. Her lips were a bright red, and her blue eyes were highlighted by winged eyeliner, making them stand out, even at a distance.

I’d known she was going on a ski trip with her friends to celebrate the end of their last fall semester. She hadn’t mentioned where but said that her friend had grown up in Denver. I’d wrongfully assumed that they’d gone up to Breckenridge. Instead, here she stood, looking perfectly and completely fuckable.

“Her,” I breathed.

“Who?” Blake asked, suddenly sitting up straight. “Which one?”

“The blonde.”

“Be more specific, Sinclair. Three-quarters of the room is blonde.”

That wasn’t true, but the hyperbole was fine.

“In the leather skirt with short hair.”

Blake whistled low under his breath. “Well, damn. She’s hot and young. I don’t know if you can pull that.”

I smirked at him. It was my turn to prove him wrong.

“Watch me.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose as I stood from the table. He definitely hadn’t expected that. How could I blame him? I hadn’t been interested in anyone all night. But this wasn’t just anyone.

I strode across the room with all the purpose of a man possessed. Her friends whispered behind their hands as I approached. Finally, slowly, she turned toward me.

Her eyes rounded, and then a Cheshire cat smile spread on her lips. A knowing look.

Before I let myself think about it, I slipped a hand across her waist, tugging her against me. My lips descended, capturing her in a searing kiss. The room silenced. The tittering of her friends gone. All their attention lost. And there was just Harley in my arms.

When I released her, her eyes were still closed, red lips opened slightly. Her face a mask of contentment.

Then, her eyes fluttered open. “Am I dreaming?”

I laughed and kissed her again, just as thoroughly, to prove my point.

“No,” she whispered afterward. “No, this is real.”

“It’s real.”

“You’re here.”

“I thought you were going to Breckenridge.”

“Change of plans,” she said with a laugh. “I thought you were staying in Lubbock.”

I shrugged. “My friend convinced me to come to his resort because it was supposed to snow.”

“His resort?”

---