I’m definitely gonna need to work on a steady hook-up once we settle in here, though it shouldn’t be hard to find a willing participant. It never has been before. I thought perhaps I’d found one when I walked into the dining room tonight and first laid eyes on Hudson—a girl too fucking beautiful for her own good—but when her douchebag for a date showed up not long after, I took it as a sign.

I don’t mess with other dudes’ girls, no matter if they’re fucktards who kiss their dates at the door like a weak-ass pussy or not. I just don’t do it. While her sisters are all pretty too, and damn, there are a bunch of them—like every guy’s favorite gang-bang fantasy; they even look very similar to her—they simply don’t have something she has. However, I can’t quite put my finger on what that something is.

Even though a couple of them made it evident they were definitely interested, I know if I hook up with one, I’m going to end up wishing and pretending they’re her. I’d maybe even call them her name at an inopportune time, which just ain’t right either. I may be a cocky shit sometimes, but I’m not a dick. My mom would beat the living daylight out of me.

For now, I need to focus on finding a job and a place to live. Figuring out a warm body to release my pent-up tension on will come later. Finally closing my eyes, I drift off to sleep fast, but end up dreaming of cold, snowy January days spent on the side of a mountain with a certain flaxen-haired, rosy-cheeked beauty at my side.

The morning sunlight filters through the thin white curtains, waking me from my unfulfilling sleep earlier than I would like. Prying my lids open, I scan the foreign room, momentarily forgetting where I’m at, but the stylishly rustic interior of the cabin quickly clues me in. As does my straining morning wood from my hot-as-fuck dream last night.

Mom is sitting on the oversized beige rocking chair with her feet propped up on the matching ottoman, thumbing through something on her iPad. Her chocolate brown hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and she’s got her glasses on, which she only uses to read. I lie still for a few minutes just staring at her, realizing how young-looking she is, and wonder why she never dated after Dad left eight years ago.

“You’re up early,” she says without even looking over at me. A mother’s intuition is something I’ll never understand.

“Yeah, that sun is bright,” I rasp, my throat filled with morning cobwebs. Pushing myself up to a half-sitting position with my head and shoulders propped up against the wooden headboard, I rub my sleepy eyes. “Whatcha doin?”

Lowering the tablet to her lap, she smiles in my direction. “Some research while I wait for you boys to get up. I was too excited to sleep.”

“Research on what? You want to drive the city today and take a look at those apartments we chose?”

“Yeah, this afternoon we will, but first I need to go to the store so I can fill out the paperwork and meet up with Luke. I’m supposed to meet him for lunch at noon,” she replies, referring to the assistant manager position at a ski shop she’s already been hired for. “I’ll ask him if he knows of any restaurants or bars hiring a bartender, or if he recommends anywhere for you to apply.”

Apparently, this Luke guy is someone she went to high school with, and when she contacted him on Facebook about moving here, he offered her a job. At first, it all seemed a little too good to be true to me, but after checking out the store and him online, it turned out to be legit. Mom thinks it’s God opening doors for us. I think the guy saw her profile picture and thought working side-by-side with her everyday would be a good idea. Either way, I’m happy she’s got a decent paying nine-to-five gig lined up, which will give me the opportunity to bartend or wait tables at night.

“So what are you researching?” I ask again.

A wicked gleam flashes in her eyes as she lifts up the rectangular, stainless steel device that came with the room. “Reading up on how to use a vaporizer,” she giggles.

“Oh, my God.” I shake my head with laughter. “Are you stoned? Where did you get the weed?”

“No!” she exclaims, covering her mouth as soon as she realizes how loud she is. Ensuring Caleb is still sound-asleep, she continues in a softer voice, “No, I haven’t tried anything yet, but last night, when I first got to the dinner, they were handing out little packets to the adults who bought a happy-hour drink. I was just curious on how it all works. Back when I was young, we had joints and hookahs; that was it. Now, it’s all so…fancy.”

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and propel myself off the mattress, still chuckling lightly. “Before you go all Iggy Azalea on me, why don’t we start with some coffee and breakfast? And we probably need to wake up—”

I don’t even finish the sentence before Caleb begins to twitch in the bed. It starts with a few choppy kicks and jabs of his arms, but within a matter of seconds, he’s in a full-blown grand mal seizure. Rushing to his side to make sure he doesn’t tangle in the sheets or fall off the bed, I turn him on his side as Mom sprints to guard the other side of the bed. This is how we’ve spent every single morning for the last six months. It’s become the norm for how he wakes up. And it tears me up every fucking day.

A few minutes later, the jerky movements subside and he slowly opens his eyes, first looking up at me and then shifting his gaze to Mom.

“Did it happen again?” he whispers timidly.

“Yeah, bud, it did,” Mom crawls onto the bed next to him, kissing his forehead, “but we’ll find out today where we can get what we came for. We’re gonna fix you all up.”

Grumbling a string of expletives, he rolls over and buries his face in the pillow, and I’m tempted to get him started on the vaporizer right this minute with whatever stuff Mom got last night, but I know I can’t. There are certain strands of weed specifically designed for people with epilepsy, and I need to find out which local dispensaries carry those.

“Come on, man.” I nudge his shoulder. “I’m gonna shower and change, then you do the same, and we can all go grab breakfast. You’ll feel better once you’ve got some food and caffeine in you.”

“You think the sisters will all be at breakfast, too? ‘Cause that’ll most definitely make me feel better.” He turns to look at me, the corner of his mouth tipping up mischievously.

“Something tells me it’s not simply a coincidence that my two teenage boys chose a resort for us to stay at that’s ran by a family with six daughters,” Mom teases.

Caleb shoves himself up to his knees, shaking his head insistently. “We had no idea. Did we, Crew?”

“Nope, no clue,” I concur.

He slowly slides off the mattress and onto the floor, as he often gets dizzy and has trouble balancing after a seizure. “Like you said last night, Mom, this place is magical. They provide awesome food, weed, and hot chicks. They should rename it Heaven on Earth.”

She sighs and throws her hands up in the air with defeat, but the silent laughter in her eyes gives away her true feelings. “Would you two please shower? No girl is gonna want to get within ten feet of either of you if you don’t wash that funk off.”

Just the thought of all those sisters makes me realize my shower is going to run a little long.

Nearly an hour later, all three of us are dressed and ready for our first full day in Colorado. As we stroll toward the main house, I ignore my growling stomach and take a few minutes to take in the scenery around me. I’m not usually the poetic type who stops to appreciate the beauty of nature around me, but I can’t help but be humbled at the surrounding landscape.