Ring Around the Posey, page 1
CONTENTS
From The Pervy Heart of The Author
1. To the Lovely Couple
2. To Having Two Cs
3. To a Killer Butt
4. To the Fairy Godmother
5. To Old Money Thundercunts
6. To Emo Butterflynado
7. To Sex Mittens
8. To Feral Kittens
9. To Herds of Wild Glitter Deer
10. To Christmas Wishes
11. To Lustful Cupcakes
12. To Finding Out Where Tacos Roam Free
13. To Being Snowed In
Epilogue
Force of Nature
Best Kase Scenario
Connect with Layla Frost
Titles by Layla Frost
About the Author
© 2022 Layla Frost
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in
any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical
methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
FROM THE PERVY HEART OF THE AUTHOR
This novella was previously published in the Snowed Inn for Christmas Anthology.
Thank you to the amazing authors for allowing me to participate in such a festive and fun experience. Thank you to the readers who helped it land on the USA Today Bestseller List.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Dedicated to Santa…
You ruddy-cheeked bastard. Unload your sack for girls on the naughty list, too.
They deserve it.
CHAPTER ONE
TO THE LOVELY COUPLE
POSEY
“So much for avoiding the crowds…”
Most people loved the holidays for the presents, decorations, or peppermint flavored everything.
I loved the holidays because of the way Winter Falls came to life. The ski town was covered in lights and decorations with excitement filling the air. It got hectic and crowded and just… magical.
And with only three days until Christmas, the wonderful chaos was in full swing.
Looking over my shoulder, I grinned at my disgruntled friend, Demi. “I know, isn’t it awesome?”
Before Demi could respond verbally, her expression did. Her sneering lips parted, and her eyes went wide.
And then I smacked right into someone.
“Shit, sorry,” I said as I fought to keep from toppling on my heels. Once I was steady, I tipped my head back to look at the victim of my inattention.
Tall and lean, his mussed blond hair looked artfully disheveled versus messy from a day on the slopes. His dress shirt and slacks screamed money. As did the pretentious glare he shot my way before turning around without a word. As if neither I nor my apology were worth the effort of a response.
Asshole.
Demi and I picked The Drop In because it was less packed than some of the other chic or trendy bars closer to the resorts. Plus, the customers were usually chill boarders rather than yuppy types.
Clearly the douche-canoe hadn’t gotten that memo.
Whatever.
I wasn’t letting him kill my vibe.
Without another thought, I rounded the asshole, effectively ignoring him right back. I mean, sure, he couldn’t see since he’d already dismissed me, but I knew I’d done it, and that was all that mattered.
“What an ass,” Demi said, echoing my thoughts. “Want me to get him kicked out?”
Since her father was the sheriff and she knew every last law enforcement officer in town, it was well within her capabilities.
I shook my head. “Not yet. Let’s see where the night takes us. Don’t wanna peak the excitement too early.”
We snagged the stools reserved for us at the long wooden bar, and Manny—one of the bartenders—set cocktail napkins embossed with a half-pipe logo in front of us. He held up a lemon wedge in one hand and a lime in the other. “Business or pleasure?”
I happily grabbed the lime wedge and grinned. “Pleasure.”
He hesitated before blinking away the dazed look in his eyes. “Got it.”
Demi nudged me as he walked away. “He wants you.”
“It’s just my voice. This thing is a loaded weapon.”
“True. You can make a grocery list sound X-rated.” She turned on her exaggeratedly sexy voice. “Cumquats, Ding Dongs, Blow Pops, cream pies, dry rub.”
I laughed at her portrayal of me, but she wasn’t wrong. Sounding sexy was important since my livelihood depended on it.
Just vocally, though, which meant I could work in sweats, hoodies, and messy buns.
Manny returned a moment later to arm me with a tequila shot and a margarita garnished with multiple umbrellas. Neither were exactly the cocktail of choice for a snowy night in the mountains, but I didn’t care. I spent most of my time drinking lemon and honey herbal tea to keep my throat soothed and my voice soft. On the rare occasion my schedule allowed me to drink, I wasn’t wasting time with hot toddies, spiked cocoa, or mulled wine.
I wanted the good stuff, baby.
Demi held up her beer then grinned at my impatience when I knocked back my shot. “Hey, I was going to toast you.”
I put my hand to my heart. “Awww, I’m honored.” Grabbing my margarita, I raised it.
“To another book come to life thanks to your voice.”
I clinked her glass and took a sip just as Manny set down another shot for me. Swapping, I lifted that one. “And in the wise words of a great philosopher, ‘Shots, shots, shots.’”
“Which great philosopher would that be?”
“Lil Jon, of course. And to paraphrase his other philosophizing… To the window. Then to the wall. Until the sweat drips down my—”
“Posey,” Demi interrupted.
“I mean, I guess I could name it after me, but that’s a little weird.”
Her widened eyes darted from me to over my head.
Only then did I feel the presence of someone standing close.
I tilted my head back, expecting to see a patron trying to flag down the bartender or looking for an available stool.
Holy.
Shit.
Instead, I found myself staring at an insanely hot upside-down face. Technically my face was the upside-down one, but still.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he rumbled with a charming smile. “Where’s the sweat dripping from?”
I returned my head upright so fast, it swam. Ignoring the brain rush, my lips tipped in my best flirty smile as I swiveled to look at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
At the awkward tilted angle, I’d thought he was hot. Seeing him from a proper viewpoint, I saw I was wrong.
He was mega hot.
Thanks to his slacks and dress shirt, along with his neatly clipped brown hair, he looked like one of the yuppies. But upon further investigation—in the name of thoroughness, of course—his rolled sleeves revealed tattoos.
A lot of tattoos.
They covered his forearms and hands, and even crept up past his open collar.
When I met his brown eyes, I realized his smile had faded, his intense gaze on me.
Oops.
Probably impolite to ogle the man like a piece of meat.
Even if he is a piece of A5 Wagyu with a jawline sharp enough to slice through a tougher, cheap cut.
“I like your tattoos,” I said, making it seem like I was just appreciating the art and not perving on the canvas.
Though I had been.
I totally had been.
He cleared his throat. “Thanks.” He offered his outstretched hand and his name. “Eli Becker.”
Accepting it, I brushed off the way my palm warmed and the flurry of butterflies that rioted in my stomach like snowflakes in a blizzard. It was the tequila’s fault. Or maybe the fact I’d just spent forever locked away in my studio, narrating a super steamy romance.
Yup, it was definitely that and not his tattooed touch.
“Posey Danson.” I gestured to my side. “And this is Demi.”
He lifted his chin to my gorgeous friend but made no moves to offer his hand. Or to even release mine.
I pried it from his grasp before it began to embarrassingly sweat. “Here on vacation?”
Eli gave a humorless chuckle. “Not unless your idea of vacation involves the wedding from hell.”
“Your wedding?” Demi tapped her fingers on the back of her phone, likely itching to put her hacker skills to use to dig into him.
“Christ no. My cousin and his, uh… lovely fiancée.”
I raised the shot I hadn’t yet taken. “To the lovely couple.”
We all took a drink before Eli admitted, “Think I prefer the other toast I interrupted.”
I brushed away his disappointment. “The night is young. They’ll be time enough for windows, walls, and dripping sweat.”
An image of me and Eli, sweaty and up against any available window or wall popped into my smut-consumed brain.
I hadn’t meant it like that, but realizing how my words could be misinterpreted, I hid a cringe behind my marg
I was flirting, yes.
Desperately flinging myself at any man willing to give me attention, no.
“I’ll call you back over if I finish that other toast,” I said, hoping that clarified things as I gave him an out to return to his party.
Eli got the message but didn’t go through the metaphorical door I opened. He gestured to Manny for another round. “What celebration did I interrupt?”
My gaze darted to Demi, but she just gave me an encouraging smile as she drank her beer and watched the interaction like we were her own personal all-star tennis match.
Since she clearly didn’t mind being the third wheel, I decided to enjoy being chatted up by the most attractive man I’d ever seen.
And since I lived in a resort town with lots of good-looking, vacationing snowboarders, that really said something.
“I finished a work project,” I hedged, not wanting to go into the details of what I did. Most men were either condescending about the ‘trashy fake literature’ I narrated, or they assumed that meant I’d talk dirty to them.
He didn’t push for details. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Keeping the hopefulness out of my nonchalant tone, I asked, “So, if you’re here for a cousin’s wedding, does that mean you live nearby?”
I may have been keeping my cards close to my chest, but Eli didn’t even try to hide his disappointment. “No. Boston.”
That was quite the distance, but there was something to be said about a good holiday fling. No-strings, no expectations, just a round or two of fun and then goodbye. See ya. Au revoir.
Get the hell out.
“Are the bride and groom from here then?” If I knew them, it’d be a good way to verify he wasn’t a serial killer before we jumped to the window and wall action.
“Nope. Destination wedding.” His tone held more than a little disdain and frustration.
“A holiday destination wedding?” I gave a low whistle. “That’s a doozy of chaos, I’m sure.”
Eli grimaced, but there was still more playfulness than scorn in his voice—as if even in frustration, he was happy. “Their first trip together was to Winter Falls. The lovely bride insisted on a Christmas Day wedding here.”
“Well, at least he won’t forget their anniversary.”
I spun my stool, giving Eli more of my focus as we talked about his career as a mechanic of some sort, my love of snowboarding, and all the best but lesser-known places around town.
According to him, the wedding hoopla had monopolized his time, so he hadn’t been able to explore the town as much as he’d wanted. When I gave him some suggestions of slopes that were perfect for boarding, his megawatt smile nearly blinded me.
And his words nearly sent me into cardiac arrest when he said, “Maybe we can meet up and you can show me what you like.”
For snowboarding.
He’s talking about snowboarding.
I may have logically known that, but that didn’t stop my libido from twisting his words in the same way I wanted him to twist my body.
Before I could accept his friendly offer—or extend an indecent one of my own—movement at my side caught my eye. I looked over to see Demi fervently tapping away on her phone. A blush spread over her cheeks, and I wasn’t sure if it was professional rage—thanks to people’s inability to understand basic technology—or something else of the wink-wink, nudge-nudge variety.
I was about to ask if she was okay when she stood and beat me to it. “I have to handle something.” Her gaze darted from me to Eli then back again. “You okay here?”
Here? With the attractive and charming guy?
Yeah, I’m good.
I didn’t say all that and just nodded.
She headed toward the hallway that led to the bathroom, her face tipped downward at her phone.
Knowing she’d fill me in later, I returned my attention to Eli. “Is the lovely couple here or did you ditch out?”
“Just the groom-to-be and us groomsmen. The other half of the wedding party stayed at the lodge.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “But I definitely shoulda ditched.”
I followed his gesture to see the small group of men who made up his party.
A group that included the douche-canoe I’d bumped into.
I watched as douche-canoe pointed to Eli and blew his cheeks up, gesturing exaggeratedly—and obscenely—before laughing and giving Eli a thumbs up.
Eli didn’t see it as he shifted to grab his beer. But I sure as hell did.
Oh.
Fuck.
Got it.
CHAPTER TWO
TO HAVING TWO CS
POSEY
I knew who I was.
What I was.
Curvy.
Soft.
Thicc—with two Cs.
But I also knew I was pretty.
Not pretty for a big girl.
Not pretty despite being curvy.
Just plain pretty. The same pretty as any other attractive woman of any other size.
Which was why when Eli, this tattooed mega hottie, had started chatting me up, I hadn’t thought twice. I hadn’t cowered, wondering why this sexy man was smiling at not-so-little ol’ me. I hadn’t thrown myself at him, grateful for the attention.
I mean, sure, I’d been tempted to throw myself at him. But it was because he was that attractive, not because I’d felt like I was obligated to. As if I owed him sex in exchange for a hint of attention.
I’d just assumed he was flirting with me because he was a man with working eyes.
But seeing the way his group was avidly watching—and mocking—I realized I’d misjudged Eli. He wasn’t a man.
He was a boy in a man’s body.
One of those who still snickered and bullied, as if my world revolved around their inability to see me for the gift I was. The boys who thought they were hosting their own hilarious version of Punk’d by talking to a curvy girl.
To be honest, it didn’t happen often, but when it did?
It hurt a little, sure.
But mostly it annoyed and frustrated me. He was attractive and charming—or so I’d thought—and a no-strings holiday hookup would’ve been perfect. But his stupidity had to go and ruin it.
I may not have been able to dismiss the other douche-canoe first, but I can dismiss the hell out of Eli.
It’s that or I stab him in the eyes with my cocktail umbrellas.
“Well, thanks for the drink. Better get back to your boys,” I snapped, turning away.
“Whoa,” he muttered, easily picking up my vibe and attitude change. “Thought the storm wasn’t supposed to hit until next week. Why the sudden cold front?”
If he hadn’t been an immature asshole, his words would’ve made me smile. As it was, they just further irritated me.
“Aren’t we done here?” I asked. “Mission accomplished. You talked to the fat chick. Ha. Ha. Fucking ha.”
“Posey, I have no—”
“No maturity? No actual humor in your sense of humor? No three working brain cells? No dick because it all went into your personality? Yeah, I figured that out. See ya.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he rumbled.
“I’m sorry, does winning the dare require you to fuck me? I assumed actual intercourse would be difficult to achieve, you know, thanks to the whole tiny dick thing.”
Amusement and confusion warred on his expression. Surprisingly, there was no anger despite my low aimed insults. Even his tone was bewildered not pissy when he asked, “What the hell are you talking about, woman?”
“A guy who looks like you randomly coming to talk to me.” Rotating my wrist as if I was speeding the interaction along, I said, “I’d give you the spiel about what you’re missing out on, like how I’m damn adorable, can cook like a Michelin chef, and do unspeakable things against windows and walls that would make you more than sweat. But this isn’t some rom-com chick-flick, and I don’t care enough.”
