His eyes lift to meet mine. “I do. It holds a lot of memories—some good, some not so good—but I couldn’t imagine myself living anywhere else. You’re from Washington, right?”
“Yup, sure am.”
“How’re you liking it here?” he asks. “I’d imagine it’s a lot different than what you’re used to.”
“That it is.” I laugh. “I’m liking Copper Lake a whole lot more than I thought I would, if I’m being honest. Everyone’s so nice, and it’s beautiful here.”
“I think it’s great what you’re doing for your aunt.” His words take me by surprise. “I’ve been up to her place several times over the years to check on her animals, and even though she’s one of the most stubborn women I’ve ever met, I can bet she’s appreciative of your help.”
Whit finishes up what he’s doing, and about thirty minutes later, we’re on the road again. The snow’s coming down a bit harder now, but it looks beautiful falling over the trees and the wide-open fields.
“You’re coming to Cope’s in a few hours, right?” Whit asks as we pull up in front of my aunt’s house.
“Yeah. I’ll probably shower and do a few things around the house before I head over. You?”
“Yeah, Reggie and I will be there. Thanks for coming with me today. This was fun.”
“Yeah, it was. I’ll gladly come with you any time you have to go up there again.” Hopping out of the truck, I spin back around and add, “And I’m dead serious.”
Whit chuckles. “Alright, I’ll see you in a few hours.”
True to my word,a couple of hours, a hot shower, and some housework later, I’m walking over to Cope’s house, excitement steadily buzzing in my gut. The snow has been falling all afternoon, and I’m bundled up with a puffer coat, gloves, a scarf, and a beanie, and I’m still freezing my ass off. When I texted Cope to let him know I was coming, he offered to drive over and pick me up, but I told him that was ridiculous because he’s right next door.
I should’ve accepted the offer.
Of course, I could’ve taken my car, but it drives like trash in the snow, go figure, or I could’ve taken my aunt’s Subaru, which probably excels in this type of weather, but I don’t feel comfortable driving anybody else’s car in the snow. I’d feel awful if I wrecked it, even though—again—I’m only going next door.
Climbing up the few steps on Cope’s porch, I kick the snow off my boots before knocking on the door. He opens almost immediately, and the sight of him in the doorway is enough to take my breath away. He’s got on a Copper Lake U football jersey. The school colors are red and gold, and they look damn good against his tan skin. A black backwards trucker hat sits on his head, and he’s wearing a pair of straight-leg,tightWranglers, and nothing more than a pair of black socks on his feet.
He clears his throat, and my head snaps up, gaze meeting his as my cheeks heat from him catching me checking him out. Smirking, he steps to the side, letting me pass by, but as I step over the threshold, before I can step too far into the house, he wraps an arm around my middle, hauling me into him. His scent envelops me; he smells so fucking good all the time. I would be perfectly content burying my face in his chest and inhaling for all of eternity.
My pulse races as I glance up at him from beneath my lashes. He’s notthatmuch taller, but he’s got a few inches on me. He smiles warmly, and I swear I could melt right here from the sight. My frozen face long forgotten.
“You look cute all bundled up for the snow,” he rasps, his face so close to mine, his warm, minty breath fanning my face.
“Thanks. I call it Eskimo chic.”
He laughs, the sound deep and throaty, before pressing his lips to mine. His tongue teases the seam before I part and let him in, and he explores my mouth, tasting and caressing so thoroughly, I forget we’re standing in the entryway of a house filled with other people. My glove-covered hands fist his shirt as he kisses me, my head floating into the clouds at how good his mouth feels against mine.
“Get a room!” somebody calls out before chuckling.
The kiss ends, both of us breathless, and when we glance down the hall, it’s Shooter walking by, a shit-eating grin on his face. Cope flips him off, and I busy myself with kicking out of my shoes and removing my outerwear. The house is warm, and it smells like delicious food, my stomach rumbling the farther we walk inside. I haven’t eaten anything since this morning before Whit picked me up.
This is the first time I’ve been inside Cope’s house. Even though it’s right next door to my aunt’s, it looks completely different on the inside. Another vast difference to where I’mfrom. Not only are the houses close together, but they also all mirror each other, inside and out. Cope’s is a two-story, whereas my aunt’s is a rambler style. The walls are a simple cream color, and everything is decorated in a very minimalist style. There’re a few pictures in frames that adorn walls of him with his friends, and some with a couple who must be his parents.
“What do you want to drink?” Cope asks as we step into the kitchen, throwing me a glance over his shoulder.
“Whatever beer you have is fine.”
“Xan-man!” Shooter strolls back into the kitchen, Sterling following behind him, that same grin on his face from before. “Nice to see you again, now that you’re not sucking face with my best friend.”
“Shut up, Shooter,” Cope growls, flicking the hat off Shooter’s head as he passes him to hand me the ice-cold can.
There’s a ton of food already set out on the table and the countertops, so I grab a plate full, probably taking way too much, but I’m starving. There’s a handful of people in the living room when we make it in there, and surprisingly, I recognize all of them. Whit’s already here, too, with his boyfriend. Cope has a ton of furniture in here, including the biggest sectional sofa I’ve ever seen. There’s room for everyone. He takes a seat on the chaise side of the sectional, pulling me down beside him. We’re close enough that our legs press against each other, the area where they touch lit up like electricity.
I don’t know shit about football, much like I didn’t know anything about the rodeo, but to be honest, it’s not really the game I’m focusing on anyway. It’s the man beside me who smells good enough to eat, and who has his arm rested on the back of the couch behind me. I want to sink into him, toss my leg over his, and let my head fall on his chest. I’m not sure who all here knows about us, or if he wants them to, so I don’t do any of what I want to. Although, hedidkiss me in the entryway,where anybody could’ve caught us—hell, someone did catch us—and Whit knew about us already. I’d rather play it safe, though, and let him make the moves rather than do something and potentially make him uncomfortable.
One beer turns into two, which then turns into three. The room becomes rowdy once the game starts, and it’s amusing to watch. From what I’ve gathered, it’s a pretty important game. I think Cope mentioned it was a playoff game when he invited me over last night.
