CHAPTER ONE
Boone
“You gotta be goddamn kidding me,” I growl as I turn the bend and see a mess of cars on the road.
“Move!” I holler, slamming my fist down on the horn.
I see heads popping up and eyes looking at me in rear view mirrors. “Move!”
They don’t move. It’s a traffic jam.
A traffic jam in my little mountain town. Un-fucking-believable.
My heart hammers in my chest as I sit here stewing, looking at all of the stupid fucking Christmas decorations. I hate December. I hate this whole moronic season with the annoying lights, irritating music, dumb stories, and sparkling crap hung up on light posts.
I don’t understand any of it.
Normally, I spend all of December hiding in my remote cabin on the mountain, hiding from all of this nuisance, this migrainewaiting to happen, but I’m missing some supplies so I was forced to head into this jam-packed town.
There are touristseverywhere.
The only thing I hate more than Christmas is tourists. No, that’s not true. I hate Christmas more.
“Come on,” I growl, squeezing my steering wheel as the cars inch forward.
These festive people descend onmylittle town like locusts this time of year. Look at them, crowding the restaurants, filling the stores, walking downmystreets with bags and bags full of crap. I hate it.
My inner grizzly on the other hand, is excited. He’s perked up inside me, trying to sniff the air, trying to catch a whiff of our mate. All the new people in town has him all cheery and hopeful that he’s going to find her.
“Never going to happen,” I grumble, trying to snuff out his optimism. She’s not coming and even if she was, I wouldn’t want anything to do with her.
I like my solitude. I like being alone, just me, in my cabin, fishing, hunting, trapping game and sitting in silence. The last thing I need is a woman around who will demand all of my time and won’t ever stop yapping in my ear. I need that like I need this goddamn traffic jam.
“Fuck,” I growl when I finally inch around the corner and see all the cars waiting to get into my lane. Where are they all coming from? This is a nightmare.
Everywhere I look, it’s just red brake lights and exhaust smoke drifting up into the cold air.
The other eleven months of the year, I can zoom around these streets, no problem. There’s still people—still too many people for my taste—but it’s bearable, at least. This however… This isenraging.
“Fuck this,” I growl as I yank my truck to the side and drive on the snow-covered grass. Someone honks at me, so I throw up my middle finger, not caring who sees it. It’s for all of them.
I cut through the town square, grinning when I see a few people scatter out of my way. One guy leaps into the snow and it makes me chuckle.
I pass the massive tree they put up every year. There must be a billion trees in these mountains, but for some reason that I’ll never understand, they cut a beautiful majestic pine tree down and put it in the town square, stringing it up with lights and decorations. It’s madness.
I park right there in the town square, my truck perched up on a snowbank like I own the place.
“What the hell?” some lady complains as I get out, stepping into the crunchy snow. “You could have killed someone!”
“But I didn’t,” I grumble, glaring at her. “So, what’s your problem?”
I slam my door closed and lock it.
“Be more careful when you’re driving in town,” she says. “Asshole.”
“This ismytown,” I grumble as I walk by, shooting her a dirty look. “I don’t need to be told how to drive in it bytourists.”
I’ve lived here my whole life. She’s probably been her for eight hours.
