Kismet by Cassie Decker

N EW Y EAR ’ S . A time for new beginnings, for fresh starts. And after the year Tucker Wright was coming to the end of, a new start was just what he needed. He really couldn’t think of a better way to ring in the New Year than with a few new friends at a secluded cabin on the outskirts of Aspen, where he had just moved. A relaxing evening in a beautifully rustic locale was sure to do wonders for his stressed-out and run-down mind.
    There was no denying the year had been rough on Tucker. Losing three website clients to larger, cheaper web design companies was a big enough blow. A water main break that flooded his apartment and destroyed thousands of dollars’ worth of computer equipment before his move to Aspen was just icing on the damn cake. But on top of all that, the thing that really hurt him the most was finding, then losing, the most incredible man he’d ever met, and all within the span of two short hours.
    Three months earlier and roughly two hundred miles due east, Tucker was sitting in an overpriced airport coffee shop in Colorado’s DIA, waiting out a two-hour delay for a flight to a web developers’ convention in Boston. He was sipping idly on a too-expensive latte and watching the hurried movements of other travelers passing the window in front of his table, when a blur of dark hair and broad shoulders and green flannel and faded blue jeans entering the shop caught his attention. Tucker damn near burned his tongue clean off with the giant gulp of coffee he distractedly swallowed down while his widened eyes tracked the man all the way to the counter.
    A sudden swell of conviction, urgent and heavy, tightened up Tucker’s chest as he watched the man absently run a hand through his hair while he waited for his drink, and he knew then and there he absolutely had to meet him. What he didn’t know, though, was that fate had a funny way of messing with the plans one had, and for Tucker, that meant he’d be spending the next three months of his life wishing like hell things had gone differently that day.
    Glancing away from his dashboard GPS with a sigh, Tucker looked back to the winding, dark stretch of wintery mountain road before him. Thick ribbons of snow danced through his SUV’s high beams and he flicked the windshield wipers to a faster setting. Taking some time to celebrate New Year’s with a few friends almost seemed selfish given how many different projects he had piling up back at his home office, but seeing as how he had just worked through the entire Christmas holiday, he thought maybe it was okay to be a little selfish just this once. And more than that, he hoped it would be a good distraction for him, that it would be a good mental break from the memories of a certain dark-haired cowboy that kept playing and replaying in his brain until it almost made him crazy. As he continued his trek to the cabin, Tucker groaned in frustration and raked a hand through his short blond hair, making it stick up even more than usual. His mind wandered, like it did every day with every other thought, back to the man in the coffee shop.
    Callum Richards was the name the man gave when he introduced himself, coming to sit right next to Tucker at the long table by the window. “But only my momma calls me that,” he said in a lazy Southern drawl, shooting Tucker a wink and a lopsided grin. “To most folks I’m just Cal.”
    Tucker looked over at him, stunned into silence. Now that he could see the man up close, his heart started pumping a little harder. There was no denying Cal was attractive, ruggedly so, with a strong jaw and straight nose that curved up a bit at the end. He was taller than Tucker by a few inches, more solidly built, and seemed like he might have five years or more on Tucker’s thirty. It was Cal’s eyes, though, deep cobalt blue like the sky at dusk, that drew Tucker’s attention right away. They were unfathomably rich and contrasted so beautifully against the inky-black waves of his hair