Page 30 of Mountain Men on Ice

The scene of the crime. The cabin in Alaska where Grady was supposed to be rehabbing while he was actually falling for my sister.

After I’d cooled off, they’d told me about how dope it was. Outfitted with a game room, a chef’s kitchen, and a garage full of toys any wannabe mountain man would love.

Plus, with Grady still on the injured reserve list, I know he and Stevie planned to spend the holiday season there. I can blow off some steam with my two favorite people—even if they’re both still on my shit list.

“Okay,” I nod, warming to the idea. “I’ll go celebrate the holidays.”

“That’s the spirit,” Coach Dane says. “Go play. Have fun. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Coach’s advice sticks with me through the next twenty-four hours as I make arrangements to meet the happy couple and one of Stevie’s friends. On the long-ass flight to Alaska, I turn the words over in my head.

Don’t do anything Coach wouldn’t do.

There’s just one thing. For the next two weeks, Coach doesn’t have any say in what I do. For all intents and purposes, I’m a free agent. Short of getting arrested, I can do whatever the hell I want.

Somewhere around the third in-flight bourbon, I ask the flight attendant for a piece of paper and a pen. I start a list of all the things I want to do but don’t for fear of getting my ass handed to me by Coach.

By the time I’ve landed in Alaska and been dropped off at the cabin, I have a good list going. Sinking on the leather couch in front of the already burning fireplace, I review my list:

Skip the gym.

Sleep past 6 a.m.

Drive too fast on a snow mobile.

Skinny dip in a frozen lake.

Drink a gallon of egg nog.

Bet on a game.

Shave the playoff beard I still have from last year.

Contemplating it a moment longer, and letting the words go a little blurry, I scribble down one more thing:

Get laid.

It’s not something Coach would frown upon, but what the hell. I’m here to have a good time. And getting good and thoroughly laid is the epitome of having a good time.

Satisfied with my list, I give it a goofy grin.

“This’ll be fun.”

My eye lids are heavy. Probably from the flight and all the bourbon I threw back. I’ll close my eyes. Just for a minute.

I mumble, “Get laid” and pass out.

When I open my eyes minutes, or hours later, I find a green-eyed blonde woman with curves for days leaning over me.

TWO

LIZ

The first thing I notice is the snoring.

A deep, rumbling that vibrates through the cabin’s floorboards and sounds like someone trying to chainsaw their way through a Christmas tree.

The second thing I notice is that it’s not mine.