“We’re not that close. I’m about a mile up the road.” He bent down and peered under the stove. When he got up, he held a tiny mouse by the tail. “I’ll put it outside, but it’s probably just going to come in again. You need to get some steel wool and caulk from the general store. Seal up any holes to keep them out of the house.”
“Um, okay.” I stayed back while the mouse waved its tiny feet in the air, trying to right itself.
“And I wouldn’t let your cat outside.”
“Mr. Aperture von Whiskerstein,” I said. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. I thought Appie’s name was cute, but it made me sound like a spoiled snob.
Griff’s brows arched, and he grunted.
“I’m a photographer. Aperture is one of the settings on a camera.” Biting down on my lip, I forced myself to stop speaking.
Griff grunted again and turned to go. “Keep him inside. There are a lot of critters who wouldn’t mind making a quick snack out of him.”
Appie cracked an eyelid. I rushed over and picked him up. His feet had never so much as touched the grass, but I worried that something bigger than a mouse would find its way into the cabin and make off with my only companion. I followed Griff to the door with Appie in my arms. Even with a mouse dangling in mid-air, the cat didn’t express any interest.
“Your uncle was a friend of mine. I’m sorry for your loss.” Griff paused like he thought about saying more. But then he stepped off the porch and gave the mouse a gentle toss into the brush. “Goodnight, Juniper.”
I stood half in, half out of the doorway and watched him disappear into the trees. The tail of his flannel shirt flickered in the cold breeze like a warning flag. I’d either just made my first friend or encountered my first problem. Only time would tell the difference.
CHAPTER 3
GRIFF
I’d triedto ignore the woman living a mile down the mountain. Tried to keep to myself and stick to my routine, but it was no use. Not even working on a new custom order had held my attention. Two days after I showed up on her porch and built her a fire, I stood on the rocks overlooking Caleb’s property and raised the binoculars to my eyes.
She’d kept the fire going. I’d been able to smell it in the air and saw smoke coming out of the chimney. I figured she’d be gone by now, but her silver SUV still sat in the drive. It had snowed twice in the past forty-eight hours and there were no new tracks. That meant she hadn’t left, and no one had been by to bother her. At least not in a vehicle.
Based on what I knew about Caleb’s inventory of firewood, she was probably getting low. He’d used up most of his supply over the winter and there wasn’t much remaining on the stack out back. If she didn’t give up soon, she’d need to figure out a way to replenish it.
While I scanned the clearing, the front door of the lodge opened. Juniper stepped out onto the porch holding a mug in her hands. Her hair was caught up in the same kind of pile on top of her head, and I wondered what it would look like fallingover her shoulders or even better, sliding through my fingers. She closed her eyes and executed a slow neck roll, first one way and then the other. Then she bent over, sticking her ass in the air and stretching out her legs.
Thoughts of grabbing onto her thick hips from behind raced through my head. Fuck. Me. It had been too damn long since I’d been around a woman. Not only was I out of practice, I’d forgotten how to hold myself in check. Besides being too young, too big city, and too damn naive, Juniper was Caleb’s niece. I didn’t owe him anything, but at least I could keep myself from drooling over his flesh and blood. Hell, I’d built a life on my ability to maintain total control. I wasn’t about to lose it over a woman with a camera and a stubborn streak.
She stepped back inside and returned a few minutes later in the same useless coat and boots she’d had on the other day. She needed real gear if she wanted to venture out. Spring might have sprung at the base of the mountain, but it would be weeks until the threat of snow subsided. Maybe by then she’d be gone.
The idea should have made me smile or at least lighten the pressure in my chest. Instead, a heaviness settled in my gut, one I didn’t know quite how to handle. So, I did what I did best—ignored it and moved on.
Juniper left the porch, her camera strap slung around her neck and headed to the edge of the clearing. She squatted down and examined some tracks, then followed them into the woods.
Hell. I couldn’t stand around waiting to see if she’d come back. Silently, I scaled the rocks and tracked her movements through the trees. She didn’t belong out here. These woods could challenge an experienced outdoorsman. For someone like Juniper who had no idea what she was doing, the forest could swallow her up.
Despite not being thrilled about having a new neighbor, I wouldn’t be responsible for something happening to her. Not when I owed it to her uncle to keep an eye on her.
She hummed as she walked, pausing every dozen feet to train her camera on something that captured her interest. She’d snap a few shots, then hold her camera away from her face to scroll through the images. Watching her reaction to seeing the things I took for granted had me wondering what she saw when she looked through the viewfinder.
It wasn’t hard to track her without being noticed. She was so enamored with the beauty of nature, I doubt she would have heard an entire herd of elk moving through the trees. That was another reason she wasn’t safe here. Being oblivious meant she was putting herself in danger, and I wasn’t always going to be following her to make sure she stayed out of trouble.
When she got to the small stream that ran through the property, she froze. A fox stood on the opposite side, slowly drinking from the running water. His reddish fur stood out in stark contrast to the snowy bank behind him. Juniper quietly lifted her camera and captured the moment. When she looked at the picture, she sucked in an audible breath.
The fox lifted its head and paused for a few seconds. Then it turned, its tail flicking back and forth as it disappeared into the snow-covered brush.
Juniper tried to follow but stopped short at the edge of the stream. She could have easily crossed it in waterproof boots, but at least she had the smarts to realize splashing through in leather booties wouldn’t be the best decision. I shook my head, impressed that she’d even lasted this long. I figured she’d be gone in a couple of days, but the woman had guts. Too bad that was the only thing she had going for her.
When she turned to head back to the lodge, I stopped following her and cut through the woods to my place. Scoutraced to meet me, running circles around me in the snow. If Juniper was going to stay up here, she needed a watch dog or a security system or something to give her an edge and keep her safe.
But first, she needed more firewood. I set down the binoculars and reached for my axe.
Later, I stopped in front of Caleb’s place. Juniper was gone. I’d taken a break from chopping wood when I heard her car head down the mountain a couple of hours ago. She wasn’t gone for good. Not unless she’d left her cat behind. Sir Aper Whatever glared at me through the front window as I unloaded enough firewood to last her a week. Maybe more if she didn’t burn through it too fast. I should have been pissed she hadn’t bailed yet, but there was a part of me that was rooting for her. She might not fit in, but she appreciated the wildness of the mountain.
