Page 4 of Don't Make Me Fall
“I could’ve checked them in,” Winnie Stanton insists for the third time. Mason’s grandma busies herself with straightening out the brochure display on a side table. She’s been an incredible help when it comes to the front desk, but her stay is temporary. In a couple of weeks, she’s headed to see her sister and won’t be back until the spring.
“I know, Winnie. And I appreciate that. But I can’t ask you to haul their luggage to their rooms.”
Just my luck that both Reid and Mason are conveniently tied up with a home renovation project for Mason’s wife, Ivy. And that all five women checking in have separate rooms on the second floor. I’d bet my cabin that none of these women are traveling light.
“I’m stronger than I look, you know,” Winnie says, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I’ve been taking strength training classes. I can deadlift a hundred and twenty pounds.”
I’m not sure this petite elderly woman is a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet.
“That’s pretty fucking impressive.” I immediately catch the slip. “Sorry?—”
“I’m not offended,” she says, waving off my apology. “You’re a good man, Hudson. Maybe one of these lucky ladies will see that for herself.”
“Winnie, don’t get any ideas?—”
But she whisks away out the front door to greet the only van in Cinnamon Creek that serves as part time shuttle. Reid musthave called in a favor if he got Fred to drive all the way to Bozeman.
Five women pile out of the passenger van, some smiling, some yawning, and all but one of them chattering up a storm about howprettythe lodge is.
Inwardly, I groan as I move around to the back of the van to retrieve their luggage.
“You’re not my brother,” I hear a female voice say as I lift the first suitcase of many from the back. Jesus Christ this thing is heavy. Is there a fucking dead body in it?
“I’m not your brother,” I agree without looking at the woman standing at my side as I pull another bag from the back.
“Where’s Reid?”
“Not here.”
“He was supposed to meet us here,” she insists, folding her arms over her chest. A whiff of something floral drifts across the breeze, and dammit if that feminine scent doesn’t cause me to pause for a moment. My dick twitches at the thought of that very scent embedded in my pillowcases.
Fuck, I need to get laid.
“Reid had something come up, so you’re stuck with me instead.”
“Charming.”
“He didn’t call you?”
“My phone died, and my charger’s in my suitcase. The purple one.”
The suitcase she refers to is buried beneath half a dozen beachy tote bags, making me even less thrilled about their stay than I already was. I fucking hope Reid didn’t tell them this was some sort of spa resort, or these women will be sorely disappointed.
“Reid will be by in the morning,” I tell her.
“Or you could just tell me where he is now so I can go find him.”
I set the third suitcase on the ground—only two hundred and twelve to fucking go—and turn to face her.
Big mistake.
I’m instantly struck dumb by the sheer beauty of her. Amber eyes that shine with fire and feist are laser focused on me, and my otherwise sleepy dick twitches with the faintest hint of life. Dark auburn hair is tied at the top of her head in some sort of messy knot, and my fingers itch to tug it free to see how far past her shoulders it’ll fall. Her arms are folded across her chest, giving the otherwise baggy sweatshirt she’s wearing shape.Incredibleshape.
Fuck me.
This is Reid’s sister, dumbass. Don’t do anything stupid.
“And how do you plan to get there, sweetheart?” I finally manage to say.
