“You mean a room for you to stay in, lass. By yourself.” Flynn’s cheeks flamed almost as red as that crop of hair atop his head, and Brooke had never seen anything quite that adorable. A light dusting of red whiskers covered his jaw, encircling a set of lips that grew sexier each time he called her lass. Couple that Irish accent with the warm brown eyes that stared back at her and Flynn Callister might just be the hottest guy she’d seen in a long time.
And where had he gotten those arm and chest muscles? Her body still remembered how he’d plucked her from the snow bank with ease and held her against that solid torso of his. The hot cocoa was warming her nicely, but not half as well as looking at Flynn was.
“I will check with Gran and get you a room.” He disappeared and came back a few minutes later, waving a keycard at her. His blush was gone, but Brooke couldn’t forget that his mind had traveled down the path of him thinking she’d wanted to see his room.
Maybe that wasn’t so ridiculous. She hadn’t been with anyone since Mr. Can-We-See-Other-People. She definitely had a little pent up… energy.
“Thanks,” she said as she put down her cocoa and took the keycard.
“Aye. No problem.” He arrowed a thumb toward the window where snow still fell. “Do you have bags you’d like brought in?”
“You wouldn’t mind getting them?” The thought of going out there again made a shiver ripple through her.
“Not at all.” He winked. “I’m not from Texas.”
“Snow is no match for you?” Judging by the over six-foot height of him and the broadness of his shoulders, she’d bet not much was a match for him. “Where are you from?”
“Ireland, originally, but I’ve lived in Vermont for a few months now. I’ve almost earned my membership card.”
“What brings a guy like you from Ireland to Vermont?” What makes a guy like you pant like a dog? Brooke clasped her hands in front of her, focusing on the feel of the keycard between her palms instead of wondering what Flynn looked like shirtless.
“Music. I’m in a band and our lead singer decided to move here after she met her soul mate. So the rest of us moved here too.”
So he believes in soul mates. Good to know. “What’s the band’s name?” She should have figured he was in a band. He had that sexy musician air about him.
Brooke’s mouth dropped open. “Hendrake! Wait a minute!” She jumped to her feet and immediately regretted it as her back rebelled. “Flynn Callister. Oh my God, you’re the drummer!”
Flynn’s cheeks pinked again and he dropped his gaze to his boots. “Aye, that’s me.” Man, he did bashful well.
“Holy cow! You guys have a great sound. So different than that other junk on the radio that’s all the same. After I heard Hendrake, I downloaded a bunch of your songs. I run a nightclub in Texas and sometimes before opening—when I’m alone and have free reign over the club’s sound system—I play Hendrake. Your drums sound amazing on those speakers.” She was gushing. She had to stop. Like now. “The drums are my favorite part.” Seriously. She needed to shut up.
A slow grin slid across Flynn’s lips. “The drums are my favorite part too. Emma and the guys should be back right before Christmas. We’re doing a holiday concert for Canville Children’s Home which helped us get our big break.” He backed out of the room. “I’ll be right back with your bags.”
Brooke reminded herself to stay right where she was. Clearly the man thought she was a nutball. Why couldn’t her mouth have stayed frozen so she could have kept her fangirling to herself? She swigged the last of her hot cocoa and by the time Flynn reappeared with her bags, she was feeling… toasty.
For a number of reasons.
“Thank you for going out there.” She walked toward him—slowly so as not to aggravate her back—and brushed snow off his shoulders. Stop touching him! She let her arms drop to her sides. “Sorry.”
“Beautiful lasses never have to apologize for brushing snow off me.” He set one of her bags down as he sent her a smile. “Give me your keycard and I’ll bring these up for you.”
“I probably should turn in as well,” she said, massaging her lower back with one hand. “That’s the only way this will settle down.”
“Does it hurt a great deal?” He led them to the stairs, which Brooke assumed led to the guest rooms.
“Not as much as it first did. Those magic pills are already doing their thing.” A massage from a hot Irish drummer was probably the best remedy though. Biting her lip, she followed him up the stairs, enjoying the back view of him as much as the front. “I’ll have to call my family and say I can’t make it to the ski lodge on time because I can’t drive.”
Flynn stopped in front of a door and turned to face her. “I… I could drive you to the ski lodge tomorrow. If you’d like. I could get Gran to give us some of her famous snickerdoodles for the trip.”
Brooke put her hand to her heart. “I can’t refuse a man who promises me snickerdoodles, but are you sure you don’t mind driving me?”
“Not at all. I welcome the chance to get to know you, lass.”
She never refused a man with an Irish accent, drummer’s biceps, and snickerdoodles. “Then I will accept your very generous offer. You’ll be saving my Christmas.”
Flynn pushed the keycard into the lock and opened the door. After letting her pass first, he brought in her bags and set them in the room’s small closet. “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay.”
“I already am.”
He reached out a hand and traced her jaw with his index finger. Somehow she felt that touch absolutely everywhere. “Good night, lass.” He headed for the stairs.
Brooke had to grip the door frame to keep from throwing her arms around him and planting a kiss on those tempting lips. Didn’t Gran believe in decorating with mistletoe? Where was a sprig when you needed one?
He turned around, his hand on the banister to the stairs. “Aye?”
“Do you ski?”
Grinning, he came back to her door and took her hand. He dropped a light kiss on the back of it that was somehow both gentlemanly and sexy as hell. “Only with lasses from Texas.”
“I probably won’t be skiing with this back,” Brooke said, “but I will need someone to cuddle with by the fire.” She looked down at their still joined hands, not wanting to let go just yet. “You look as if you would be a good cuddler.”
“Actually…” He tugged her into an embrace—one that didn’t feel like a stranger’s. “I’m an expert.”
Apparently Flynn Callister would be saving more than her Christmas. He’d be melting her heart too.
Come back tomorrow for a holiday tale from Rolynn Anderson! Happy Holidays!
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