Burn on the Western Slope (Crimson Romance) by Angela Smith Read Free Book Online

boomed through her, a staccato rhythm that perfectly matched the pounding of a bed against a wall during hot sex. With that thought, she glanced away from him, down the bar. She didn’t remember what hot sex was these days, but fantasizing with this man gave her body a thrill.
    “No way,” Garret said. “How could she?”
    “Looks like I win a hundred bucks,” Reagan sang, her toes tingling when Garret laughed again.
    So maybe she was interesting.
    “Can I get you anything else to drink?” Chayton interrupted.
    “No shots. Something to sip on. Preferably something with mint. A mojito?” That sounded like a good beach drink. Something familiar. Something to mask the unsettling in her stomach.
    “You like mint?” Chayton asked, his brows arching. Reagan nodded. “If you want to try something different, I have a glacier mint drink you’ll kill for.”
    “That good?” Well, she’d just had the most stressful few weeks of her life. Why not splurge a little? “I’ll give it a try,” she said.
    Chayton laughed, a sound like rich chocolate pouring from his throat and cheering up the room. Or it could be because her whole head swam in a muddy pool of confusion and excitement. He was friendlier than he had been last night, but Garret had her heart pounding so loudly she could barely function.
    What was it they said about chemistry? Uncontrollable. Undeniable. Absolutely terrifying.
    So why did she remain sitting here?
    As Chayton walked behind the bar to prepare the drink, Reagan glanced at Garret. The green shirt he wore intensified his eyes to somewhere between sea green and olive until he shifted, and the color changed again. His hair looked as if he’d pulled off his beanie and tried to straighten it with his fingers. Shorter and lighter than Chayton’s surfer-style shag, a palette of golden brown in a casual but spiky style looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed.
    A glimmer of facial hair jutted from his cheekbones and above his mouth, roughing his smooth neck in a sexy subtleness that begged to be noticed. She wondered how he’d react if she reached out and touched his stubble. Naomi would do it without a thought. Reagan cursed herself for not being so brazen, even after a few drinks.
    “The snow’s great, the skiing is great. When are you going out to ski?” Garret asked.
    Reagan fumbled with the button on her sweater. When Chayton set her drink on the bar, she tightened her hands around the glass to curb her jitters.
    “I hate to admit it, but I don’t ski.”
    “You don’t ski?”
    “I mean, I never have.”
    “You have to be tempted, right?”
    “Uh, not really.”
    This was where he’d leave. He would think she was crazy, boring, uninteresting, and he’d find someone more fitting to talk to. Only, he didn’t. He smiled, his eyes twinkling with interest. At least, she thought it was interest. It could have been pity, or mockery, or …
    No. She cupped a hand over her cheek, as if that would soothe her insecurities. The cold condensation from the glass she’d held sent a chill between her shoulder blades.
    “How long are you staying?”
    “A month, at least.”
    “Do you want to learn to ski? Because I’m a pretty good teacher. And Tanyon is a great place to learn. It’s busy, but not as busy as some of the bigger resort towns.”
    “Oh, I don’t know.”
    “Yes. You have to try it at least once. You’ll love it. Chayton can hook you up with gear.”
    “Well, I’ve always had a secret desire to plunge down a twelve-thousand-foot drop.”
    Garret’s eyes sparkled, like sunbeams skipping across the ocean and landing under her skin. But even sunbeams on a clear summer afternoon wouldn’t affect her like this.
    “It’s not so bad,” he said. “We’ll start on the bunny slopes. Then, if you fall it’ll only be half that.”
    “I’ve seen the size of these mountains and there’s not a bunny slope in three-hundred miles.”
    “Sure there is.”
    Reagan clamped her mouth