Page 10 of Whiskey Kisses For the Mountain Man
"Well, hello to you too, Owen," Zoe says, amusement clear in her tone. "Ezra's in the shower."
"Tell him to call me back immediately."
"Is this about your new neighbor?" she asks, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
"You knew." It's not a question.
"I may have suggested that cabin when Nora mentioned needing housing for the festival coordinator," Zoe admits without a hint of remorse. "I thought it might be good for you to have some company up there."
"Company? She's got a ten-foot glowing reindeer on her lawn and Christmas music blasting loud enough for the entire mountain to hear."
Zoe laughs. "Oh no, Christmas decorations? The horror."
"This isn't funny, Zoe."
"From where I'm sitting, it's hilarious. The grumpy mountain man versus the Christmas Queen. It's like a Hallmark movie waiting to happen."
I growl, seriously considering hanging up. "I didn't agree to this."
"Owen," her voice softens. "It's temporary. And maybe having someone around who loves the holiday so much might help you..."
"Don't," I cut her off. "Don't try to fix me."
I hear water shut off in the background, and then Ezra's voice calls out. "Is that Owen?"
"Yes, he's having a crisis because his new neighbor put up Christmas decorations," Zoe calls back.
"Tell him to man up," Ezra shouts. "And listen to you. You're brilliant. And sexy."
"You heard the man," Zoe says to me. "Look, Owen, I know you hate the holidays, but she's new in town and working her ass off for the festival that our distillery is sponsoring. Maybe cut her some slack?"
I close my eyes, exhaling slowly. "I'm trying."
"Try harder," she says, but her tone is gentle. "She's good people, according to Nora."
"She's the Christmas Queen," I remind her.
"And you're the Grinch. It's a perfect match."
"Not funny."
"A little funny," Zoe counters. "Give her a chance, Owen. Who knows, maybe she'll grow on you."
I hang up without responding, tossing my phone onto the counter. The last thing I need is the queen of Christmas anything growing on me. What I need is peace and quiet and to be left alone.
I stalk to my bathroom and turn on the shower, cranking the hot water as high as it will go. Steam fills the room as I strip, tossing my clothes in a heap on the floor. I step under the spray, letting it pound against my shoulders, trying to wash away the tension of the day.
But as the water cascades down my body, all I can think about is Lettie. The way her eyes lit up when she talked about that ridiculous reindeer. The slight curve of her lips when she negotiated with me. The flush of her cheeks when her friend called me "delicious."
Fuck.
I'm hard, my cock, rigid and aching. I close my eyes and try to think of anything else, but my mind keeps circling back to her. What would she look like in something other than those Christmas sweaters? What would her curves feel like under my hands?
I groan, wrapping my fingers around my length before I can stop myself. I'm stroking slowly, imagining her looking up at me with those big brown eyes while she's on her knees, those red lips wrapped around...
I jerk my hand away as if burned. What the fuck am I doing? She's half my age, obsessed with Christmas, and working with me on the festival. Three strikes.
Instead, I force myself to remember Vanessa, who also fucking loved Christmas. How I found her with that guy. How it felt to have three years of my life turn to ash because I was stupid enough to think someone could actually want me for me.
