10. Storm of emotions

TEN

STORM OF EMOTIONS

KRIS

A storm hits part way down Mt. Hood as we head back to Portland. “We should have gotten a room at the lodge tonight,” I grimace, worried. The tires on her car are shit and we’re sliding too much on the slick snow. The blizzard makes visibility zero, and it accumulates fast on the road.

“I had a room but cancelled it. This is all my fault. I swear I checked the weather earlier. No storm was expected.” Bailey grips the armrest, her knuckles as white as the snow outside.

“Hold on,” I warn, as the car enters the worst slide yet. I turn the wheel into it, but it’s too much, too fast. We twist in a circle three times on the two-lane mountain road, ending up facing back the way we came. To make matters worse, the car stalls out in the middle of both lanes. Thankfully, we haven’t seen another vehicle in either direction for several miles, most people smartly staying off the road.

I pant from the adrenaline rush. “Are you okay, Irish?”

She nods, her eyes squeezed shut. Then her face glows blue and red, from lights in the distance.

I glance ahead to see where they are coming from, and notice a flashing roadside motel sign through the storm. It could be a place to shelter until this is over. “We need to get off this road. It’s not safe right now. Hold on.”

The car starts again on the first try, and I send up a prayer of thanks. I’m buying her new tires when we get back to Portland.

I inch the car slowly into the motel parking lot, slipping again, and rolling to a stop before crashing through the motel office.

“Let’s go, and hope they have room so we can wait out this storm.” I rush around and help her out, but she appears doubtful. We only have a few feet to the door, but there’s a foot of snow and she’s in high heels. I lift her out, and she yelps as I carry her inside.

Once there, we both adjust to the temperature, shaking the snow off our hair. I notice the name of the place on a sign above the front desk. Hood Honeymoon Hideaway.

A woman with pale hair like the white stuff outside pops out of an adjoining room and takes her position at the register.

“Congratulations, honeymooners. Welcome to our establishment. I’m Mal Griffiths. Good thing you pulled in here, just in time, ‘cause that’s a doozy of a storm outside. The weather person says it’ll last a few hours.”

“Bad conditions for driving. Do you have a room available for us for the night?” I ask.

“One with two beds. Or two rooms,” Bailey says.

Mal scowls. “Why would you need two? Take my advice honey, that’s a horrible way to start a marriage, sleeping in separate rooms.”

“Oh. We’re not, um…” Bailey hesitates, then something catches my eye above Mal’s head.

“Just one moment, please.” I pull Irish off to the side by her elbow.

“What are you doing?”

“Read the sign,” I whisper, motioning with my eyes toward it. She follows my lead and glances up. The sign above Mal’s head, the one in small red letters directly underneath the Hideaway sign, reads Premarital sex not permitted on the premises. Someone prominently displayed a sign of the cross next to it.

“Who says we’re having sex?” She whispers back. I cock my head at her. “Oh. You think we are? Think again. We’re not staying here.”

I knew there was something going on with the way she suddenly grew quiet as we finished our hot chocolates back at the lodge. I figured she was just tired, but as we started our drive down the mountain, the silence in the car was deafening.

Things were great, it seemed to me. The attraction between us undeniable. Okay, so maybe thinking we’d have sex tonight is too soon, but we could at least snuggle and talk and try to stay warm—in one bed. I have no idea what caused her sudden change in demeanor toward me.

“Look, we need a place for the night. I’ll sleep on the floor and you can have the bed. Because there is no way I’m going back out there in this weather on your bald tires,” I start.

“What happened to big mister ‘I’m from Denver and can drive in any weather?’” She tries to mimic my voice.

I laugh, catching Mal’s eyes. “My wife is such a jokester, aren’t you, honey?” I put my arm around Bailey and squeeze her into my side, approaching the desk once again.

“Ha ha. Yes. Always joking. That’s me.” She falls into the role as if she gives in. The weather outside is awful, and we need a place to stay, even if we have to fake being married to be safe.

“A little humor helps too. My Jack always kept me laughing, that one. God rest his soul.” She kisses her finger and places it on the face of presumably her dead husband on a framed photo on the wall. “Now, you’re in luck. I just had a cancellation tonight for the only available cabin I have, but it isn’t my best one. It’ll shelter you from this cold snowy night, though. Word of warning, the springs on the bed are getting old. I’ve been slowly remodeling each cabin, and number ten is next up on the schedule.”

“The cabin number is ten?” I inquire.

“That’s right.”

“Well, if that isn’t a sign we should stay here.” My wry smile earns a rolling of Bailey’s eyes.

“You really need to stop calling yourself a ten,” she smirks.

“Don’t believe it?”

“You have your moments.” She crosses her arms, avoiding my gaze.

“A lot of little moments add up fast, wouldn’t you say, Mal? We’ll take the cabin.” I whip out my credit card, refusing to let Irish pay. Not that she made any overtures to do so.

“Check out time is noon on Sundays on account I attend church. Although if the snowplows don’t clear the damn roads on time, I may have to bend the knee with my bible bedside in the morning. Here’s the key.” Mal hands over an actual key, heavy and long handled, attached to a heart-shaped wooden carved key ring. “You won’t mind if I let you find the cabin yourself on an account of my bad hip rearing up in this cold weather. I slip and fall, and a trip to the hospital would be the last thing I need. It’s the cabin down at the end. You can park in front of it.”

“No worries, Mal. I think I can steer my wife in the right direction.”

“Good man. You better hold on to this one.” She warns Bailey.

“Oh, you bet I will, because I’ll fall on my rump walking in the snow in these heels.” She chuckles.

“Thank you so much.” I nod at Mal and take the receipt she hands me.

“Oh, Mal, would you happen to have any food or beverages for purchase?” Bailey asks.

“No, but here. I almost forgot. A gift basket for the newlyweds. You’ll find some treats in there for sure. And you’ll love the fresh mountain water from the tap, plus there’s coffee you can brew in your room in the morning. God bless.” She sends us off with that. I carry Bailey and the gift basket back to the car.

All the cabins look alike, gray siding, white window trim, with a roof that extends over a small porch at the front door. We proceed slowly, driving until we find the cabin marked 10 and park.

“I’ll be back to get you.” I jump out with the basket and stomp through the snow to unlock the door. Once inside, I turn on the lights and take a quick peek around. Not five-star accommodations, but it’ll have to do.

Then I return to get Bailey, shuffling through the snow to create a path for us to walk on. It probably ruins my leather shoes, but I can buy another pair. I lift her up in my arms and carry her inside, joking, “Let’s go, wifey. ”

At least she grins at that, giving me a small hope I’ve broken the icy wall she built since we left the lodge. Inside, she tours the room, rubbing her arms, and keeps her jacket on. “Wow, the temperature isn’t much better in here.”

I fiddle with the controls of the furnace. “It’s kicking on, but there is a wood-burning fireplace. I think I saw wood on the porch.” I look out and I was right; I grab an armful of logs and kindling.

“Do you even know how to light a fire?” She appears doubtful.

“Just relax, wifey. I can light a fire.” I wink and get a good one going in no time.

“As cute as wifey is, we’re alone now. We can drop all pretenses.” She stands by me, rubbing her hands in front of the heat.

“Why when it’s so much fun?”

“But it’s over, isn’t it? You did what you said you’d do, be my fake date and help me get through this wedding. I guess your services are done.”

Is that what’s eating her up, causing this cold shift against me? But what if I don’t want this to end yet? I could be ready to retire my playboy and heartbreaker status for her if we keep seeing each other, and see where this goes.

I remove my coat and add it around her shoulders. She huffs and watches me while I fold up the sleeves of my shirt, exposing my forearms.

“You never get cold, Kris?”

“Had we been stuck overnight in the car, I might have. But no matter how comfortable your car is, this is better, right?”

“I guess.” She perches on the side of the bed, the mattress squeaking, and she burrows inside of the coats.

“I think I have something that will help.” I dig into my pant pocket for the item I kept there all night, a double-barreled flask. “Mind if I sit?”

“What do you have?” She shifts to give me room on what has to be only a double size bed. I can hear it now, in Mal’s voice, another one of her marital anecdotes. “On a bed this size, you’ll be sleeping on top of each other. Perfect for a happy marriage.”

I sit and test the springs, bouncing a little, the bed grunting like it’s possessed. “She wasn’t kidding about the noise. Here.” I open one side of the flask and hand it over.

Our fingers brush as she takes it. The zap of electricity in that one touch is a great start; I want more. Her on my lap or under me or on top of me, our bodies lighting up with so much electrical current raging between us. I’d give anything to be buried deep inside of her.

With a sniff of the contents, a grin attaches to her face once again. “You brought me Baileys?”

“I wasn’t sure what we’d face at the wedding, so I brought it as emergency comfort fuel.”

“Thanks. That was really thoughtful of you. You’re so…different from how I thought you were in L.A. Exactly who is Kris Kringer? A playboy? Or a perfect gentleman?”

“I’m just a hockey player.” Who gets distracted by her lips forming around the flask. I wait with bated breath for her subtle moans after her first taste. She doesn’t disappoint.

“Mm. That’s good.” She takes another, producing more moans. My cock twitches in my pants, growing by the second. “You might be a success on the ice, I wouldn’t know, but I hear people say it. Off the ice, though, I’m still trying to tally up your score. So far, you’ve proven yourself to be quite the sweet, considerate guy, heartbreaker.”

“We’re in a freezing cabin with only one tiny noisy bed. Believe me. Right this second, my thoughts are far from sweet.”

Her eyes betray her as I watch them roll down my body and back up. I take the flask from her, seal her side, and open mine for a sip.

“What’s in that side?” she asks.

“Macallan. Some of the best stuff on earth.”

“Let me try.”

“I don’t think you can handle it, lightweight.”

“Give it to me.” She holds her hand out. I comply and lean back on my elbows to watch.

After a sip, she gasps and coughs. “I better stick with my stuff.”

“Good idea.” I chuckle and set the flask aside. A minute passes by with only the noises of the crackling fire and the howling, freezing wind outside. “So here we are.”

“With only one bed.”

“I have eyes. And they’ve been on you all night.”

“Oh really? Because I thought I saw you talking to a woman on the veranda at the lodge.”

“Nothing passes by you. Although I was talking to both a woman and her husband, an old teammate of mine, from when I played in Minnesota. He got traded here, too, and we bumped into each other when I sulked off to the side while you talked with the asshole who didn’t deserve you.”

“Oh.”

“All I cared about in that moment was watching over you so that jerky ex of yours wouldn’t take you away from me.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted you all to myself. You don’t have a clue how beautiful and sexy you are, do you? Of course, you’re also smart-mouthed and stubborn. But after our first kiss on the dance floor, all I wanted was to kiss your lips, over and over, like I do now.”

I move in, ready to devour her. She pulls away.

“What is it now, Irish? What are you afraid of?”

“That the next man I fall for is going to run off with one of my cousins,” she snidely remarks.

“You have nothing to fear. Besides, I don’t know any of your cousins.” I quip, earning her playful slap on my chest. “And you haven’t fallen for me. We’re just…exploring. Having a night of fun.”

Or is there something more to this? A voice in my head dares ask.

“Is that what you call this?”

“Yeah. You could use a little fun, right Irish?” One look at her ex today and I know he sucked the life right out of her. “You can’t tell me that the asshole knew how to make you laugh or how to relax and have fun.”

Her silence is full of confirmation. It only serves to strengthen my resolve to give her a good time tonight. No matter what it takes.