Six
Phoenix
I pair my jeans and T-shirt with a leather jacket and a pretty kickass pair of boots I stole from Sedona the last time she was home. She’s got all the good shopping in New York.
“Hey, Mac,” I say, walking past the bellhop at Glacier Point Resort.
“Phoenix. Looking good as always.” He eats me up with his eyes. Mac was always a flirt.
“Thanks. I love the little hat.”
He touches his head as though he forgot he was wearing it and his smile dims a bit.
I’m so busy looking over my shoulder and laughing that I run into a hard chest. When I look up, it’s my brother-in-law.
“Phoenix,” he says with his arms crossed.
“Wyatt,” I mimic his brooding tone.
“What brings you to my hotel?”
“You need to update the bellhop uniform. Mac looks like he could be one of those dancing bears w
