I can see what drew Maddox to Cherry Mountain.
There’s no internet in the cabin. No TV either. But I borrowed some books from Sophia before I left. She reads a lot of fantasy romance: faeries, vampires, and all that jazz. It’s not my usual thing, but it sure fits the magical vibe of this place.
Fae smut and mountain views…now that’s a Christmas I can get behind!
I set my bags on the couch and take a quick tour, opening a door to reveal a kitchen that’s almost too small to turn around in. The listing said there was no bedroom—the couch doubles as a sofa bed—so the only other room to check out is the bathroom.
When I open the bathroom door, I’m instantly hit by a cloud of warm steam. It dissipates, and a gasp rips from my throat.
What the…
Instinctively, I step back. It takes me a moment to process what I’m seeing.
A giant.
He looms out of the bathroom haze, a towering mountain of muscle, his broad shoulders filling the space. Water droplets slide down his burly chest, slipping through the smattering of dark hair until they disappear beneath the towel wrapped around his waist.
He’s so big that I have to tilt my head back to look at him.
Holy crap.
Forest-green eyes pin me to the spot, shadowed beneath scowling brows. A thick beard—more salt than pepper—covers half the giant’s face, curling around his down-turned mouth. He must be in his mid-forties at least. My heart races as I take in the rough edges of his face, his thick biceps, the massive bulge that his towel does little to hide…
Who is this sinfully handsome man?
And what the heck is he doing in my cabin?
2
IVAN
I shakethe frost out of my hair as I inspect the roof. Thorne and I have spent all morning fixing the snow damage and patching the weak spots, shoring up my cabin for the winter months.
“How does your side look?” Thorne calls from beside the chimney.
“Good as new.”
He nods. “Mine too.”
Satisfied, I return my tools to my tool belt and climb down the ladder. An icy blast hits me, and I freeze on the last rung, gritting my teeth at the pain in my leg. The spasm is like a knife twisting in my thigh, but I force myself to the ground, stepping aside for Thorne to descend after me.
“Thanks, buddy,” I tell him when he’s down. “Appreciate the help.”
Thorne shrugs. “Owed you one for the fence.”
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about my neighbor over the years, it’s that he hates feeling indebted to people. After I helped him fix his fence during last month’s storm, he was determined to repay the favor as quickly as possible.
“Better get going,” Thorne says, already stepping away from my cabin. “Enjoy the holidays.”
“Thanks.”
The words are hollow for both of us. Thorne will spend Christmas alone this year, just like me. Just like every year. Hell, part of me considers asking him to come over for Christmas, but we’re both grumpy scrooges who prefer silence over words. I can’t exactly picture us having a ball while forcing conversation over turkey.
Once Thorne has vanished into the trees, I open the door to my cabin. North is waiting for me, barking eagerly in welcome. I head to the fireplace to stoke the dying flames, petting North’s head as he nuzzles my right leg, careful to avoid my left. He’s a real mountain dog—a gentle giant with a fluffy white coat. Hell, I’m pretty sure he’s part polar bear.
When the fire is roaring once more, North curls up in his favorite spot on the rug in front of it, letting out a deep sigh. I leave him to nap and head into the bathroom. I’m all sweaty from working up on the roof, my leg still cold and aching, so I start to unbutton my shirt and turn on the shower.
Nothing happens.
