“Shit,” Will muttered under his breath as he stalked down the dark hallway toward Amber’s door. He hadn’t had this much to drink in months. Maybe years. But he also hadn’t had this much consecutive time off in years, either. And each scotch had tasted better than the last, until before he knew it, the bottle was empty. It hadn’t been all him, though. Little Red finished a glass or two, not to mention the others. Jesus, though, how many had he had? He stumbled half a step but caught himself on the wall, blinking back the spots from his vision, his legs suddenly feeling like lead weights filled with Jell-O.

Get it together, Colson!

His eyes flicked across the hall to his own bedroom door, and he quickly ducked inside to grab a condom. Couldn’t be too prepared. And although he couldn’t actually have children anymore, he didn’t know Amber’s history, and she didn’t know his. If things got serious, they could have the chat later. He was clean, but condoms were just a part of the process.

He ran his hand over his face, took one last look at himself in the mirror. Damn, that forty-eight hour shift he’d finished the night before was hanging on under his eyes in thick bags. They looked more like freaking suitcases. He needed sleep. But Amber was waiting for him. He needed Amber.

Amber first, then sleep.

She was petite and feisty, and he wanted every inch of her beneath his lips before the night was over. He wanted to taste her creamy skin, bite those sweet nipples. He bet they tasted like raspberries. The woman had him by the balls, and she didn’t even know it. He vowed to do practically anything he could to get her under him, on top of him, in front of him. Fuck, he would take her any way he could.

Yes. Amber’s body beneath his first, then they’d curl up together and sleep.

Yeah, that sounded good.

He closed his bedroom door, took the two and a half strides across the hall, then pushed her door open, not even bothering to knock.

Amber hadn’t completely closed her bedroom door when she heard it squeak open. Big warm hands landed on her biceps from behind. He lifted her up and plunked her feet on the bed, spinning her around in the process, bringing the delicious smell of him, manly cologne and scotch. It circled around her like a twister. She swayed slightly, but he held onto her and kept her in place.

“What took you so long?” She giggled, feeling the effects of the alcohol and enjoying how bold it made her. She wasn’t one to shy away from sex or relationships, and in her thirty-two years she’d had the odd one-night stand. But Will flustered the bejesus out of her, so she was happy about the booze in her system. It was calming her nerves.

His smile sent a shiver of longing straight up her back and back down again, pooling into a warmth between her legs. She bet most women dropped their panties for that smile, and she couldn’t blame them one bit.

He didn’t say anything, though, but moved his hands up her back. One grabbed the base of her neck hard and rough, while the other slowly drew the sleeve of her flannel shirt off and down her arm. His mouth fell to her bare shoulder. Her skin was searing hot. Was he going to kiss her?

No.

Instead, he dug his teeth into her flesh.

She moaned and arched into him, her own hands beginning to wander. Down his shoulders to his big biceps and forearms, past the muscular span of his chest, down his abs.

Holy mother of God, those abs!

Finally landing on his belt.

“Little Red,” Will purred, his mouth moving up her neck. She tilted it to the side to give him better access. He moved along her jaw and down the other side to her collarbone, licking along the ridge. His deft fingers made quick work of the buttons on her shirt.

She pulled his belt free, then started on the zipper and button of his jeans.

Her body was on absolute fire. Scorching hot for this smoking man, and the heat coming off of his rock-hard body didn’t help. Peeling the soft fabric of her shirt away, he dropped more sultry kisses down her arms and across her chest. Amber pushed his pants to the ground and heard his cell phone and wallet thunk to the wood floor. His shirt was next. She wanted to see, wanted to feel, wanted to lick and taste each one of his abs. Feel the rigid lacing beneath her tongue. She drew the hem of his shirt up his torso, and he pulled away so she could lift it over his head. There he stood, looking like a fucking god in white boxer briefs, with the biggest, most beautiful bulge at the front she’d ever seen.

She licked her lips, unable to move her eyes away. It . . . he was mesmerizing.

Will’s chuckle was low and wicked in his throat as he reached for her. The joy he got from flustering her was evident in his smile. Her mouth parted just so, and she swallowed. Dear lord, he was beautiful. So dark, and the way his skin practically glowed from the dim lamp on her nightstand, he was polished onyx in the moonlight.

He brought his hand up and slipped the strap of her tank top slowly down her arm. The fire in her belly ignited into burning flames from his touch.

Amber knew she was tipsy from the wine and scotch, but add in the uneven surface of the mattress, and her knees were getting ready to buckle. His lips fell to her collarbone, and her entire core clenched. Her nipples hardened to achy pebbles. Could Will see them? She glanced back at him. His eyes were focused on her chest. Oh, he could see them all right!

“I uh . . . I’ll be right back,” she blurted out before pulling herself from his grasp as if he’d just shocked her. She moved away from his body, her own body screaming out “why?” so loud she was sure he and everyone else in the cabin could hear it. She stepped down off the bed and ducked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her maybe a tad too abruptly, cursing under her breath at the loud slam it made and hoping she hadn’t woken up anyone else.

Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!

The man wasn’t just sex on a stick, he was pure sex. There was nothing stick about him. Was he a branch? Sex on a branch? Sex on a log? No, log sounds wrong. Fuck, the guy was the whole damn tree. He was a sex tree. And he wanted her. And boy, oh boy, did she want him.

Hump like bunnies.

She’d said so herself. Will had chuckled when she’d said that. He said he wasn’t a snowshoer, that had to mean something. Then he’d followed her down the hallway, pinned her against the wall, wedged his leg between hers and kissed her. The man had staked his claim on her for the entire week.

So, why on earth was she in the bathroom when he was out in her bedroom with the biggest boxer bulge she’d ever seen in her life, and an eight pack of abs that was practically screaming at her to be licked?

Because I want him so badly it scares me.

Shaking her head at her foolishness and ridiculous second-guessing, she splashed some cold water on her face, gargled with Listerine, then took a wet washcloth to her downstairs business, just to be considerate. She had no idea what Will planned, but that tongue of his as he laughed and ate tapas earlier that night had mesmerized her. And if he planned on using it, she wanted to be ready. She pulled her hair out of the no-nonsense ponytail she’d been sporting all evening and pinched her cheeks.

What the fuck am I doing? I don’t do this. I’ve never pinched my cheeks before for a man in my life, not ever.

But she pinched them anyway, fluffed her wavy red hair down around her shoulders, flashed a big “come hither” grin in the mirror and opened the door, ready once more to be ravished by the hot doctor in tight white boxer shorts.

Will was lying on her bed, his head up on the pillows and his arms tucked casually behind. His eyes were closed, and his bare chest rose and fell, deep and even. A low, barely discernible rumble filled the room. He was snoring.

She gaped at him. How long had she been in there? Not too long, it couldn’t have been that long. A minute or two? But long enough, apparently, because the sexy tree who’d barged into her room and made her entire body spark to life like never before had managed to fall asleep half-naked on her bed, still sporting a very impressive tent in his boxers.

Letting out an exhale of what could only be described as a confusing mix of disappointment and relief, she pulled the dark red chenille throw off the foot of the bed and draped it over his big body. It scarcely covered half. She opened up a couple of drawers and a closet and found another blanket, covering him up with the two from neck to toe. Then, with an ironic huff and quick look of longing at the gorgeous man “in” her bed, she climbed in next to him and flicked off the light.

The next morning found Juney and Rowan in the kitchen preparing breakfast while the rest of the house slept. It’d only been one night so far, but that night had rocked her world. With both of them used to getting up with the sun because of their busy work schedules, their eyelids had flown open, as if set to a timer, at 5 a.m. They’d made love again—twice, then put on a pot of coffee and cuddled on the couch talking. Juney couldn’t remember a time when a man made her feel this special, this beautiful. And to know she made him happy, too, it was the perfect Christmas present. It was all she’d ever wanted.

“Saskatoon berries, huh?” Rowan said with a chuckle, whisking pancake batter in a big glass bowl. “Never had ‘em.”

A smile crept to her lips. “They’re so good. And they make an incredible jam.”

He came up behind her and spun her around. “Yeah? Do you make an incredible jam?”

Rolling her eyes but unable to hide how happy he made her, she looped her spatula clad hand around his neck and smiled up at him. “Why yes, in fact, I do.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, bending his head low and dipping her in the process, his mouth capturing hers, his tongue demanding access. She moaned against him and opened up, welcoming him, dancing with him.

The faint scuff-scuff sound of slippers coming down the hallway filled the air, competing heavily with the sizzling of the skillet and griddle and quiet gurgle of the coffee maker in the corner.

“Oh, uh . . . sorry,” a groggy feminine voice mumbled. Juney opened her eyes and turned just in time to see Hunter knock her hip into an end table. She winced from the pain but recovered quickly, her hand shooting out to catch the lamp that teetered back and forth. She managed to catch it, thankfully, right before it crashed to the ground.

“Good morning.” Juney smiled, having pried her lips from Rowan’s, and righted herself. She needed to check on the sausages in the oven.

Rowan flashed a cocky, handsome grin Hunter’s way before taking up his post next to a frying pan full of vibrating bacon. “Morning.”

Hunter pulled up a seat at the kitchen bar and cupped the reindeer-painted mug of coffee Juney poured and placed in front of her. “Thanks.”

“Rough night?” Rowan asked with a smirk. “Were you up all night with the mega-genius?”

Hunter shot him an irritated glare that for some reason made her natural beauty seem even more fierce. “No.”

“Good morning,” came a yawn from down the hall.

The three of them turned to find Amber padding lightly on tiny bare feet down the hallway. She was wearing no more than a black tank top and red and green plaid pajama pants. Her red hair was in a messy, messy bun, and pillow creases looked like a botched facelift on her porcelain skin. She sidled up next to Hunter and thanked Juney for her coffee.

“What about you?” Rowan asked, blotting the bacon he removed to a plate with a paper towel. “You and the grumpy doctor play doctor?”

Juney snorted and gave him an eye roll. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m happy.”

She couldn’t help the rush of pleasure that jolted through her and into every limb from his words, from his smile. He was happy because of her.

Hunter cupped her mug to her chin and blew on her coffee, secretly hoping that she hadn’t been the only one to strike out last night. Apparently, Juney and Rowan managed to figure out Daisy’s algorithm in record time. Had Will and Amber gotten their groove on, too?

Amber rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Uh, no. We tried, but he fell asleep before anything started. I’m choosing not to take it personally. Yet.”

“Shit!” Rowan said, a dumbfounded look on his face. “Well, at least you know he’s interested.”

An icy wash of dread swamped Hunter, making her shiver, the sudden need for a cardigan or blanket all-consuming. She leapt up off the barstool and snatched a cashmere throw off the couch, wrapping it around herself like a baby-soft cocoon. Jealousy escaped her on a long sigh as she avoided everyone’s curious eyes and reached for her coffee again. Yes, at least Amber could take solace in the fact that Will was interested in her. Austin apparently wanted nothing to do with her; he’d made that abundantly clear last night. Friend-zoned before she’d even had a chance.

Guess there’s a first time for everything.

“What about you, Hunter?” Juney asked, her eyes full of motherly concern. This woman was a nurturer to her core. Hunter could practically hear the woman’s biological clock ticking from where she sat.

Hunter shook her head, her teeth gritted out the words. “Nope, nada. Not even a kiss. I don’t think he likes me like that way. Maybe not at all. Maybe I’ll try to find a ride back down the mountain to my car. Leave you lovebirds to your snowy love nest. Because obviously you two figured it out, and quickly, and Amber and Will need to get busy sooner in the evening.”

Amber made a noise in her throat that wasn’t quite a laugh.

“And if it’s all the same,” Hunter went on, “I’d rather not sit and watch you guys make use of the mistletoe while Austin and I avoid eye contact with each other for a week.”

Juney leaned across the counter and rested a hand on Hunter’s arm, her slow, understanding smile attempting to alleviate Hunter’s uncertainties. “We haven’t even been up here twenty-four hours. We have five days. Give him time. He seems shy. He might just be waiting to get to know you better. Or for you to make the first move.”

Not freaking likely. Hunter never made the first move.

Hunter’s lips trembled into the parody of a smile, but it was quick to vanish. The corners of her mouth were just too heavy. “Yeah . . . maybe. It’s not like I was expecting sex last night. That would have been great, or even a kiss would have been cool. But he didn’t even flirt. Nothing. I can’t get a read on him. What’s wrong with me? I’m a nice person, right? I’m successful. Sure, I don’t have a college degree, and I just got my GED a couple of years ago, but I’m still pretty smart. Do you think it’s the degree thing that’s holding him back? That I’m not educated enough? Or maybe we’re not matched. Maybe we’re all attracted to the wrong person.”

Rowan and Juney paused for a moment, their gazes locking in mild panic.

“Uh, no,” Rowan finally said. “I think we all figured it out pretty damn quickly. Some work faster than others, that’s all.”

Juney beamed at him from where she stood, peeling an orange.

Rowan moved the berry sauce he’d been stirring on the stove over to a hot pad. “You’re a fucking self-made millionaire, Hunter. At twenty-six, I might add. I’m pretty sure college degrees and whether you finished high school are irrelevant at this point. You’re beautiful, smart, funny. I honestly have no idea what the guy’s deal is. Maybe Juney’s right. Maybe he’s shy. Or gay.” His eyes took in the women he hardly knew, gauging their response. And then he rapidly added, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. My older brother happens to be gay. I don’t care who you love or who you fuck. I’m simply making an observation, is all.”

Juney rolled her eyes, then gave Rowan a small grin to let him know she wasn’t taking offense to his response. Amber nodded and muttered something about not being offended either.

But Hunter was off in her own little world, her lips flattened into a thin line in thought. “The millionaire thing then, maybe? He’s intimidated by my wealth? My success? I’m not that different from everyone else. I still do my own laundry, put my pants on one leg at a time. And like everyone else, I’m incapable of folding a fitted sheet.”

“I can fold a fitted sheet,” Juney cut in.

“Well, then you’re obviously a witch.”

Amber burst out laughing next to her. “Nobody normal can fold a fitted sheet. You must be a witch.”

Juney’s face fell for a moment, but then she quickly plastered on a big grin. “Can you fold a fitted sheet?” she asked Rowan.

He gave her a dubious look. “What the hell is a fitted sheet?”

Soon they were all laughing, the debacle of the night with Austin soon forgotten. Hunter found herself smiling and joking with the others. It was nice to smile, especially after last night. It wasn’t until their banter about how hot the griddle should be for pancakes—Rowan and Juney couldn’t agree on a temperature setting, she said he was burning them—that they were interrupted by more slipper-scuffing from down the hall. All eyes turned to see who it was, and lo and behold, out trudged Austin looking as rough as Hunter felt. She quickly averted her eyes and stared down into her coffee mug, watching the steam rise up into her nostrils.

“Morning,” Austin yawned. There were two choices: either take the other empty seat next to Hunter or walk around to the other side and sit next to Amber. He chose to sit next to Amber. A move that was noticed by everyone. Juney shook her head and went back to whisking the whipping cream. Rowan gave Austin a quick once-over, then shook his head as well. Amber got up and poured him a cup of coffee, which he took willingly and thanked her.

Hunter turned her head to look at him. His dark brown, wavy hair stuck out in every direction on his head, and an even thicker layer of auburn scruff covered his chin and cheeks. He looked better than ever. Disheveled and raw. Different from the guys she normally dated, who were chiseled and fit in all the right places, but screamed bravado and “look at me” from the rooftops with the way they carried themselves. Hell, her last boyfriend spent twice as much time primping in the bathroom as she did.

And even though she was coming to the conclusion that Austin didn’t share her feelings, she couldn’t deny the pull she had toward him. He had an understated magnetism, and she was drawn to his quiet power, drawn to his intelligence and tenacity. The more she thought about it, the more she was attracted to the fact that he wasn’t attracted to her. How fucked up is that? But she couldn’t deny it. The fact that the brainiac wasn’t interested in her, was practically ignoring her, was turning her on. Never a nerd herself, because she just didn’t have the attention span or drive to try in school, she was in awe of those who could.

Once her company started to take off, Hunter tried a couple of online and night business classes, but even those she struggled to sit through, didn’t find them engaging or overly helpful. Her time could be much better spent forging relationships with suppliers or hunched over a sewing machine making the next great hemp skirt. So, even though she had zero education, not to mention no business knowledge, she managed to build a small empire, relying solely on her gut instinct and a few loyal and honest friends and co-workers. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t admire those who went to school. It said a lot about a person and how they valued themselves, how they valued intelligence. A never-ending quest for knowledge, always wanting more of it, always wanting to know more. Hunter found it hot. Abs, pecs, lips, eyes, they had nothing on a big, sexy brain.

“We’re all going to hike up to the chairlifts today and get some runs in, earn the extra calories we’ll consume tonight. You in?” Juney asked, snapping Austin out of his funk. The guy had been staring straight ahead at the little Santa and Mrs. Claus salt and pepper shakers perched on the island. Hunter only knew this because she’d been staring at Austin.

Get a grip, girl. He doesn’t like you that way.

He pulled his eyes away from the salt and pepper shakers, the faintest of smiles tugging at his mouth. “Oh. Uh, sure, that sounds good. I’m game.”

Rowan gave him a look and snorted, shaking his head with an eye roll. “At least you’re game for something.”

Hunter coughed and shot Rowan a dirty look.

Shut up, man!

He gave her a smug smile back and flipped a flapjack. She wanted to flip it onto his face. Just because he was happy and having multiple Christmas orgasms didn’t mean he had to go rubbing it in and make the rest of them feel like lumps of freaking coal.

“Good morning.”

All eyes whipped around to the deep and sleepy voice that was coming down the hallway. Will had pulled his jeans back on, but he hadn’t bothered with his shirt, and the ridges of his chiseled abs flexed with each long stride.

“Morning.” Hunter yawned, moving over so Will could take up a perch next to her. He offered her a sleepy smile, then thanked Juney for his coffee.

Will was thankful that there was no seat left next to Amber. He was a total ass for falling asleep on her last night. And even though for the first time in forever he woke up feeling rather rested, he also felt like an idiot. Why hadn’t she woken him up? Sat on his face or straddled his waist to snap him back to reality? He had closed his eyes for a brief second, bagged from the day and the days before. It’d been nonstop busy at the hospital, and he’d only managed all of thirty minutes of sleep in the on-call room.

He was pissed off at himself for dozing off last night, but he wasn’t the least bit surprised it had happened. He hadn’t had a solid eight hours in what was beginning to feel like forever. But there she was, avoiding his face and staring down into her coffee mug like it was a fucking Picasso or something, and rightfully so. She was probably either (a) pissed off at him or (b) feeling insecure about where they stood. He hoped it wasn’t either of those but would take pissed off over insecure. He wanted Little Red to know how badly he wanted her; he just had to figure out a way to show her.

“You coming?”

Hunter’s voice and cocked head pulled Will from his thoughts, and he snapped to attention, nearly knocking his coffee mug over in the process. “Coming where?”

Rowan snorted in the kitchen and shook his head. “Not too many people coming in this place.”

What was that prick’s problem?

Will glared at the cocky chef as Rowan wiped his hands on the front of his apron and pecked Juney on the cheek at the same time.

Fuck, had Rowan sealed the deal last night? Jesus, where had that prowess come from?

Now Will was an even bigger dumbass because he’d fallen asleep on Amber, but Rowan had managed to get Juney to give it up on the first night.

The little blonde smiled at him. Hunter was cute, super cute. And normally he would have gone for her. She was totally his type. He liked blondes. Always had. Probably because as a teenager he’d been obsessed with Baywatch. I mean, come on, you can only watch Pamela Anderson run in slow motion down the beach so many times before a mild obsession and dreams of bodacious blondes with heaving bosoms start to infiltrate your dreams. Day and night. And he’d been with his fair share of flaxen-haired bombshells. His ex-wife had been black, but Will liked all types. But here, now, he wanted Amber. She was a ballbuster and spritely, and he liked that . . . a lot.

“Sorry, where?” he asked again, ignoring Rowan’s smug smile and turning back to Hunter.

“We’re all going to hike up to the chairlift and do some runs,” Hunter said, lightly drumming her fingernails on the side of her mug.

Will nodded as he ran his hand down his face and scratched his whiskers. He needed to shave. “Yeah, sure.”

“All right, you sexually frustrated weirdos,” Rowan said with a chuckle, his arms loaded down with plates as he made his way over to the long, live-edge dining room table. “Breakfast is ready!”

He plopped an enormous platter of pancakes down in the center, followed by a plate of bacon, a plate of sausages, and enough scrambled eggs to feed an army. Juney followed hot on his heels with whipped cream, berry sauce, what looked to be toast, cut-up fruit, and maple syrup. Once they set everything down, the two of them stood up straight and smiled at each other. Something passed between them, something intimate, an inside joke or a wordless conversation. Whatever it was, it did not go unnoticed by the other four, who pried their sorry asses off the barstools and went to take their seats, incredibly annoyed with how chipper and sappy the Christmas lovebirds were.