Be Mine: A steamy instalove Valentines collection

I propped my feet up on the ottoman in front of me and tried to tune out the loud laughter coming from the lobby area of the swanky lodge. Giant snowflakes drifted past the windows. The world outside these walls appeared to be a hell of a lot more peaceful. It had been nice and quiet here too, until a group of women arrived to check in. I was about to give up on reading the paper and head to my room when my buddy Slate came through the doorway.


“There you are. Patience and I have been looking for you.”


“Done on the slopes for the day?” I took a sip of cocoa, wishing I’d been able to go with them. I hadn’t decided my next steps yet, but I wasn’t dumb enough to risk breaking a leg and putting an end to a lucrative professional football career.


“Yeah, are we still on for dinner?” Slate asked.


“You don’t need me as your third wheel. It’s Valentine’s Day weekend. Treat your wife to a romantic dinner alone.” It was bad enough I’d crashed their getaway, though Slate would never give me shit about that. He was the one who’d insisted I fly out to Tahoe for a break.


I’d been here for a few days already and probably ought to head home, but I wasn’t ready to face the press. It’s not every day a quarterback leads his team to win the most coveted prize in football and doesn’t stick around to celebrate.


Slate understood. He’d gone through something similar when he walked away from the league several years ago. I was lucky to have him in my corner.


“Our reservation’s at seven, and don’t even think about not showing up. Patience will hold it against both of us if that happens.”


“Can’t have that.” A twinge of jealousy sliced through my gut. I envied Slate the life he’d built for himself away from the limelight. He’d been a messed up sonofabitch when he walked away from his career. Thanks to Patience, now he had the life he wanted, the life he deserved.


Slate pointed at the center of my chest with his thick finger. “Don’t be late.”


If he wasn’t one of my best friends, I might be intimidated. “I’ll come down for a drink, maybe an appetizer. Then the two of you can have your candlelit dinner.”


“Yeah, we’ll see what happens.” He lifted his hand in a wave as he backed out of the doorway.

“Later, man.”
I waited until he left before I downed the rest of my cocoa and got up from the chair. Not even the warmth from the wood-burning fireplace could chase my chill away.


I’d been in a funk since last weekend. Since I reached the pinnacle moment of my career and realized my accomplishment didn’t mean a damn thing. Now I didn’t know what to do with myself. The good news was that I had some time to figure it out. The bad news was, I had no idea how to shake myself out of it.


After a couple of hours scrolling through sports channels and a half hour in a scalding shower, I felt a little better. I dressed in the suit I’d had on when I arrived at the lodge the other day. I might be messed up on the inside, but at least I could look presentable on the outside.


When I’d walked out of an interview that took a turn toward the unexpected, I didn’t know where to go. Then Slate called to congratulate me on the big win. I must have been in awful shape because within minutes he’d booked me on a flight to Reno. He picked me up at the airport himself and insisted I tag along with him and his wife on their weekend away.


If I hadn’t been so fucking lost, I never would have agreed. But now that I was here, far from anywhere anyone would ever think to look for me, the tightness in my chest had eased. 


I walked past a few groups waiting to be seated and entered the restaurant. The entire room glowed from the flicker of candlelight as it danced along the log walls. Vintage light fixtures hung overhead and dozens of couples sat at tables for two. I could almost see the love in the air.


Slate and Patience sat at a table by the windows. Their foreheads touched, and they appeared to be involved in a deep conversation. I felt like a dick for even being here. They didn’t need me crashing their Valentine’s dinner. I could order room service and eat in front of the TV.


I turned, intent on leaving before they noticed me. Too bad I didn’t see the curvy blonde standing behind me. My elbow caught her in the chest and a loud “Oooof” came out of her mouth, surprising us both.


“Hell, I’m sorry.” I reached for her arm, but she jerked away, knocking into the server standing behind her.


A tray of glasses crashed to the floor, along with a pitcher of what smelled like sangria. The liquid splattered my pants and doused the woman’s dress. She looked up at me, her brown eyes wide.


My gut clenched. I didn’t know whether to grab a napkin to help her or get the hell out of there before someone recognized me. Thankfully, a few women jumped up from their seats at the table behind her and blotted her dress with their napkins. The server crouched down and reached for the broken pitcher. I leaned over to help.


“I’ve got this, sir. I’ll get it cleaned up right away.”


“Hey, Palmer. Glad you decided to join us.” Slate stood over us, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light from the fixture behind him.


I stood. “What a way to make an entrance, huh?”


“You never do anything half-assed, do you?” Humor flashed in his eyes before he turned to face the table of women. “Ladies, we’re sorry for the inconvenience. My friend and I will cover your next round of drinks. We hope you have a good night.”


I looked for the blonde so I could apologize… again… but she’d disappeared. Seemed like I couldn’t do anything right lately.


“Come on, we’re over here.” Slate gestured to the table where Patience waited for us.


“You know what? I’m just going to grab room service.” I might be a dumb jock, but even I could read a room. The low hum of conversation had come to an awkward standstill. Even though I was used to being the center of attention, feeling the collective stare of everyone in the dining room resting on my shoulders was too much to take. “I’ll see y’all in the morning before you take off.”


“Are you sure?” Slate’s forehead creased. He was a good guy. We’d been friends since we both got drafted out of college and started playing football in San Francisco.


“Yeah.” I reached up and squeezed his shoulder. Even though he didn’t play ball any more, he still had the build of a lineman. “You two enjoy your dinner.”


“Goodnight, Palmer.” Patience gave me a sympathetic smile.


“Happy Valentine’s Day.” I nodded toward Slate, eager to get back to my room and out of my soaked pants. For someone who was trying to keep a low profile, I wasn’t doing a very good job.


“See you in the morning, man.” Slate pulled me into a gruff bro hug, then patted me on the back before he rejoined his wife at the table.


I didn’t waste any more time hanging out in the dining room. Before the server came back with a broom and dustpan, I was halfway to the elevator. So far, the staff and other guests at the lodge had left me alone, but if I kept making a scene, someone was going to blow my cover. The last thing I needed was the press showing up and trying to get me to talk about why I hadn’t given an interview since our big win.


My foster mother always told me that things always looked better in the morning after a good night’s sleep. Mama Mae had always spouted her special kind of wisdom to my foster brothers and me. The best thing to do would be to get upstairs, curl up in the giant king-size bed, and try to get some shut eye.