Snowfall and ruin
Rowan Harper stood on the sidewalk in downtown Denver snowflakes melting on her lashes staring at the eviction notice taped to the door of the tiny gallery she had poured her soul into for three years Merry f*****g Christmas she muttered Her phone buzzed another debt collector. She let it ring out. The suitcase at her feet held everything she owned now three sweaters one good dress her grandmother’s silver locket and a bottle of cheap bourbon she’d been saving for a celebration that clearly wasn’t coming.
A black Lamborghini growled to the curb like a predator. The valet from the hotel across the street nearly tripped over himself running toward it The driver door opened. Out stepped a man who made the falling snow look warm Six-foot-eight easy black coat open over a black Henley stretched across a chest that could block out the sun. Tattoos crawled up his throat Ink-black hair dusted with snow. Eyes the color of glacier melt Saint Calder She knew the face everybody did. Starting point guard for the Denver Avalanche. Billionaire. Untouchable. He looked straight at her like he had been hunting her for years Rowan’s pulse stumbled.
He crossed the street in four long strides boots crunching salt and ice You’re crying he said voice low rough almost accusing I’m not she lied swiping her cheek. “Snow” Saint’s gaze dropped to the eviction notice then to her suitcase then back to her face. Something dark and hungry flickered behind the ice-blue What’s your name Red?
“Rowan.” She lifted her chin. “And I don’t need pity from basketball royalty.”
A slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth. “Good. Because I don’t give pity.” He reached past her ripped the eviction notice off the door and crumpled it in one fist Get in the car Excuse me? You’re freezing i have a chalet in Aspen. Fully staffed. Ten fireplaces. Stocked bar. You can hate me warmly. Rowan laughed sharp, disbelieving. You don’t even know me I know you smell like cinnamon and trouble he said stepping closer voice dropping and I know I want you in my passenger seat five seconds ago
her heart slammed against her ribs the streetlights flickered snow swirled harder
she should say no she should run instead she heard herself ask Do you always kidnap women before Christmas? Only the ones who look like they were built for me. Jesus Christ Rowan grabbed her suitcase. One night. Then I figure my life out Saint’s eyes flashed something feral and triumphant. One night he agreed, but the way he said it sounded a lot like forever.
