One by one, they come, offering roses. Jake from Seattle is a tech entrepreneur with a blinding smile. Ethan from Denver, a fitness trainer, promises me deep conversations and deeper heat. Lawyer Blake from Chicago recites a poem about my smile.
And the men keep coming: the crazy chef, a pilot, and an actor who kisses my hand like it’s a scene from a movie. Each one charming, each cologne layering over the last, until the room reminds me of the men’s section in a department-store.
My cheeks ache from smiling. My pulse is a steady thrum as roses pile up in my arms. Then the announcer’s voice deepens for the final contestant. “And our twelfth bachelor … a man who knows these mountains, and perhaps our bachelorette better than anyone.”
I freeze as my brain takes off in a million directions. Who lives on the mountain, who knows me better than anyone? I can think of only one person, but it can’t be him. He’d rather be dead than caught on a reality show.
“From the peaks of Passion Pines itself … Creed Stone.”
My world tilts on its axis. There’s just no way this can be happening. But of course, the producers flipped the script on me. I knew they were going to do whatever was possible to crank up the drama. But this?
Creed steps out in a tailored black tuxedo that looks almost criminal on him. His crisp white shirt stretches over the hard planes of his chest; the jacket cuts sharp across his shoulders, so broad they block the candlelight. His Stetson tilts just enough to shadow those stormy-blue eyes I’ve drowned in a thousand times. Six-four of raw, barely leashed power closes in on me. His scent hits me first. Pine, leather, mystery spice, unmistakablyhim.
My lungs just forgot how to work.
“Creed?” My voice cracks as his slow, deliberate, predatory steps make the air thicken around me. The cameras zoom, and the room goes silent except for the crackle of candles and the thud of my heart.
His unhurried, possessive gaze drags over me, lingering on the plunge of my neckline, the curve of my waist, the high slit that bares one thigh almost to sin. Everywhere his eyes touch, fire follows. If I know him, and boy do I, he’s already stripping me in his mind, remembering exactly how every inch of me feels under his hands. He offers the final rose in the flickering candlelight.When I take it, his fingers brush mine, and a spark jumps through me.
“Lyssa,” he says in a low, rough voice, meant only for me, even though the mics catch every syllable. “You look like every dirty dream I’ve had for twenty damn years.”
Holy moly. Did he actually say that out loud? My brain stutters to a stop. Elena steps into my sight line and mouths, Roll with it!
I force the words past the knot in my throat. “You crashed my show, mountain man. That’s bold for someone who walked away last time.”
I’ve hit a nerve. With his eyes darkening with every step, he moves closer, invading my space as far as he can without touching me. “I obviously didn’t walk too far because here I am, ready to fight for what’s always been mine.”
Elena makes a rolling motion with her index finger, trying to move us along, but neither of us can look away. “Do you think you can just show up, hand me a rose, and I’ll forget you left?”
“No.” Creed leans in, closing the space between us, bringing his masculine, musky scent that makes my knees weak, along with him. He bends and whispers so close; his lips tickle my ear. “But I’m positive you haven’t forgotten a single night we spent together. Not the way I made you moan my name. Not the way you begged me to lick you harder until you came on my face.”
Heat floods down my neck, through my torso, and between my thighs. Did anyone hear what he just said?
Apparently not, because Elena and the crew aren’t flagging us and we’re still rolling.
X-rated memories of our last time together rip through my brain, and I try to push them away, but all I hear is Creed saying, “Shh, baby. Let me,”with his mouth between my thighs right before his talented, insistent tongue worked my clit over until I came. Afterward, he held me like I was precious and promised he’d never let me go.
I blink up at him, defiantly baring the column of my throat. I know he’s dying to kiss me. “Careful, Creed. This might not work out the way you expect. You might get burned.” It’s a feeble response, but it’s all I have.
His jaw flexes as his eyes blaze with that familiar hunger. “But you know very well how much I like playing with fire when it comes to you, darlin’.”
Behind us, the other men shift. Off to the side, Elena’s grinning, knowing the ratings just detonated.
I force a smile, but inside I’m unraveling. Twelve bachelors. Two hearts to break tonight. With Creed here, everything just got a hell of a lot more complicated.
Chapter three
The axe feels like part of me as I swing it high and drive it down with a clean, satisfying crack. The log splits in two, and I take a deep breath of the fresh pine scent exploding into the cold February air. Out here behind the compound, away from the cameras and champagne flutes, it’s just raw Montana.
This place might be billed as a luxury with hot tubs steaming under the evergreens, but survival isn’t optional up here. These city boys think a weekend in the snow is an “adventure.” Cute. If they can’t keep a fire roaring through a blizzard, Lyssa won’t give them the time of day.
“Like this, Ethan,” I say, handing our resident fitness trainer the axe. He’s in good shape, but his hands are soft, with no trace of calluses from real work. Yesterday, he told me his toughest “workout” is blending kale. I like him. Reminds me of the greenhorns we break in on the crew. Eager, no ego.
“Keep your grip firm and feet shoulder-width apart. Swing from your hips, not your arms. Let the weight do the job.”
Ethan nods, plants his stance, and swings. The log cracks unevenly, but he knows he’s getting better at it and grins triumphantly. “Damn, Creed. That felt good. You must get a lot of practice living up here.”
“Every storm.” I grunt, taking the axe back to demo another clean split. “My brothers and I run Montana Maverick Lines. When the state calls, we’re the ones keeping power alive for people who’d freeze without it.”
