Page 33 of Tough Luck

How was this going to work when we returned to Golden? Could this work? I wanted to hold onto this moment. But I could see the light from the sunrise already breaking into the room.

“It’s okay, we have to get going soon.” I shifted, knowing that I had to break contact or I’d want to stay right here all day long.

Then his arms came up and wrapped around me.

“We have time,” he said, holding me close. I shifted to look up at him. God, he was so pretty. How did he not have more women falling at his feet?

Then suddenly I remembered my one-sided confession last night, that I’d only been with one other man before. He’d obviously stayed quiet because there was probably an arsenal of women in his past.

Feeling my face heat, I shifted until I could lay my cheek against his chest, hiding my embarrassment.

When his hands started moving over my body, I completely forgot about either of our pasts. There was only here. Right now. Him.

Focusing on how he made me feel, I countered each of his moves with my own. If his fingers traced me, with featherlight touches, I’d trace him. The way his muscles flexed under my exploration was mesmerizing to me.

Realization hit me that Parker had been a boy compared to Rick. There wasn’t even a way to compare the two. This, what I was enjoying now, was in a completely different ballpark. Something I’d never had before. Something I wanted more and more of, if possible. Something I knew that I may not have again, once we left our secluded mountain getaway.

I straddled his hips and looked down at him as he cupped my breasts. My eyes ran over him, drinking in every detail. A colorful tattoo of a mountain peak with a large wave crashing into the bottom covered his left pec.

I had my own tattoos. They were much smaller than his, but I still liked the sunflowers on my ankles and the wildflower lines along my right rib cage.

“I want to enjoy this while I can,” I said, shifting slightly. I watched his blue eyes deepen as a low half groan, half growl vibrated his entire body.

“Whenever you want it, I’m game,” he said, running his fingers over my skin. “Anytime.”

His hands found my hips and started to pull and push me until I was moving on him. Deeply. Slowly.

“Sofia.” He groaned and shifted until he was sitting up, kissing me. “Anytime,” he said again as I wrapped my arms around him, holding on to that promise, to this very moment, just in case it wasn’t true.

Chapter 13

Rick

Almost an hour later, when we stepped outside the cabin, the mountain air felt so wonderful. Sofia was back in her business attire, and I had on one of my suits again. I was going to miss the flannels she’d been wearing all week long.

As I drove, winding our way back down the mountain highway toward Golden, the reality of what we were heading toward slammed me right back into focus.

Sofia quietly sat in the passenger seat, her eyes fixed on the scene outside the windows. She may have been back in her armor—a crisp, slate-gray tailored suit that made her look every bit the powerhouse strategist she was—but I could see the slight tension in her demeanor.

“We’re ready,” I assured her, reaching over to briefly place my hand over hers on the console. Her skin was cool, but she squeezed my fingers back with a light grip before I pulled away to take a turn.

“I know,” she said, taking a deep breath and looking over at me, a defiant spark returning to her gaze. “I am so ready to bury Leonard. To upstage him finally.”

Our first stop was the commercial printer that we used in downtown Golden. I left the engine idling and hurried inside, returning a few minutes later with three massive, heavy-weight presentation boards wrapped in protective black canvas. These weren’t just standard agency mock-ups. We had spent the last twenty-four hours of our retreat formatting the trailhead checkpoint layout and that spectacular 3D speakeasy rendering into high-gloss, high-impact visuals. We’d built the app, confirming with Sofia’s contact at Parks and Rec about the drop-off points, and even talking to a few local bars and businesses about partnering with the brewery. Everything was moving into place.

When I slid back into the driver’s seat after loading the boards carefully into the back, Sofia turned around to check them. “How do they look?”

“Like the winning lottery ticket.” I smiled, pulling back out into traffic. “Leonard’s amateur hour is over.”

Ten minutes later, we pulled into the parking lot of Clear Creek Brewery, almost a full hour early for our meeting time.

As we walked through the glass double doors, carrying our presentation material, I felt like we were stepping into a battlefield with a freaking tank.

As we neared the heavy timber doors of the executive suite, the doors swung open.

To both of our surprises, Leonard Whistler stepped out, a smug, self-satisfied grin plastered across his face, looking entirely too comfortable.

“Sofia,” Leonard purred, adjusting the lapel of his overly flashy blazer. “Glad you could make it. Though, honestly, you could have saved yourselves the drive. The board was so receptive to my presentation last Thursday that they invited me back for a brief follow-up. No doubt, I’ve just secured the account.”