All I want to do is go back up and lie low for the rest of the season. I can’t imagine what the hell is going through Noah’s mind, especially since he’s got a lady now who needs to keep moving off the mountain for work.
Seems ridiculous, but I haven’t actually seen Noah’s face in years. He’d been an even worse hermit than me, hiding himself away up the mountain without leaving for months at a time.
It shouldn’t make me feel the way it does. Not quite jealous, and not even really lonely. The mountain is my haven, the cabin my protection against my past. The last thing I need is for it to be torn apart by someone who could never fit into my life.
With a shake of my head, I wave him off. My gaze darts to the darkening sky, shivering as the wind picks up and blows the snow sideways. Not to my surprise, the once busy street empties quickly. Some dart into storefronts for protection from the weather; others get in their cars and make the smart decision to go home.
I’m ready to do the latter.
When I get into the truck, I do a check of everything I have from the meeting before pulling out. As I take to the main street of Willow Ridge, I find the town emptying of its usual suspects. The Christmas markets set up in the town square pull down for the day, efficient in their ability to pack their shit after years of perfecting the craft. Those who once admired the markets close themselves in restaurants and cafes around the square, seeking temporary shelter before they make the dash to their cars and get the hell out of here.
I feel that familiar itch to do the same and get the fuck out of town to hibernate for the rest of winter. I’m ready for therescue team; last fall, I set up motion-activated cameras around my property, especially where a trail cuts through my parcel of land. Not only do I have access to the cameras, but I made sure the captain of the rescue team does, too.
I make it to the grocery store to restock on some necessities, knowing damned well I won’t want to come back anytime soon. As I get out of the truck, an older, beaten and worn one pulls in beside me. The engine crackles, churning loudly.
I shake my head and ignore the chill trying to settle deep into my bones as I step over a large snow pile. Just as I do, I hear a curse, sneeze, then another curse from whoever came from the other truck.
I shouldn’t care. Should ignore and keep going. But there’s something about that little sneeze, the way she saysfuckunder her breath, that has me turning around.
Standing in the snow is a gorgeous, curvy woman with ink-black hair pulled under a knit beanie. The heavy coat she wears shows every curve of her body, right down to the swell of her very large stomach.
My heart skips a beat at the sight of her. Her pale skin is flushed from the cold, cheeks a rosy pink, nose red. The protective side of me wants to tell her to go home before the storm hits, because she most definitely shouldn’t be out here looking nine-months pregnant alone.
But I grit my teeth and take a step back, then another.It’s not my place, I remind myself, hands forming fists.And I shouldn’t care.
I don’t like kids. I don’t like pregnancy. And I most definitely have no place in my damned head to be worrying about either.
Sighing, I walk right past her into the grocery store, forcing myself not to look back when I hear her curse again. Sure as fuck isn’t my problem. I repeat that over and over again as I grabthe remaining few things I need to survive a winter up on the mountain—alone.
Ignoring the heat in my chest when I see her waddle through the aisles is hard, but I try to disregard the knot forming in my stomach when I watch her pull the beanie off and shake out her long, dark hair.
Getting the fuck out of there as soon as I can, I dump the groceries in the back of the cab. If it weren’t for the fact that I needed gear from the hardware store, I’d be on the road back to my cabin right now. But of course, I need gas for the generator. Solar panels are useless when they’re covered in heavy layers of snow and there’s no sun.
As I drive, I push her out of my mind completely. There’s nothing worth getting hung up about. She’s gorgeous, but that’s it. My dick is doing all the thinking.
And she’s pregnant with another guy. There’s nothing that terrifies me more than responsibility that isn’t mine.
But no matter how hard I try to get her out of my head, those blue eyes I barely caught sight of are there every time I blink.She’s the worst kind of distraction, I tell myself.
The kind of distraction that could break a man like me.
And I have no desire to be broken by a woman like her.
TWO
SKYE
Iam not giving birth a week after Christmas, I repeat to myself over and over again as I get the last of my supplies. I’ve officially started maternity leave, and the anxiety has set in. We’ve set up the spare room of my little house for the baby, my sister’s offered to help where she can, and I have the next couple of weeks paid for by the measly savings I have from a cruise that definitely isn’t happening.
Being 38 weeks pregnant has me on high alert, but I move through all the calming techniques I know. Panic is the last thing I need to be feeling. Same with fear.
Am I a little worried I’ll have to give birth at home because of the snow? Sure. Rob picked theperfecttime to knock me up. A winter birth was the last thing I ever wanted.
At least I don’t have to worry about him,I remind myself, shaking my head as I take the last of my groceries out to the truck. In the last twenty minutes, the sky had gotten darker—heavier. A shudder rolls down my spine, but I know better. This isn’t my first winter in Willow Ridge—and it won’t be my last.
How many babies have I delivered in this weather? I keep reminding myself that I am a badass. I have alwaysbeena badass. Being pregnant does not negate that.
Even though I found out at twenty weeks, and I had no time to prepare.
