Driving Bumble down the switchbacks is a white-knuckle nightmare. The engine buzzes like a panicked insect, and the tires slip on the slushy patches Shane warned me about. He was right—this car wasn't built for Grizzly Peak—but every slide of the rear tires feels like a middle finger to his overbearing 'rules.' By the time we reach Main Street, I’m shaking from the effort of keeping us on the road. I park the bright yellow Beetle in front of the library, the car looking like a toy in a town made of iron and timber. It’s loud. It’s an eyesore. It’s a beacon telling everyone exactly where the 'new girl' is.
"Okay, mission donut is a go," I tell Maddie, lifting her out of Bumble. She giggles, her small hand gripping mine tight.
We spend an hour at the library. I meet Irene, the woman I’d chatted with briefly on the phone when I went looking for art supplies. She’s painting a mural in the children's section.
"You're the one working for the Gunnars," Irene says, wiping green paint on a rag. She has kind eyes but a sharp, assessing gaze. "Shane, specifically."
"Is it that obvious?" I lean against a bookshelf while Maddie looks at picture books.
Irene glances out the window at Bumble parked on the street. "In this town? Everything is obvious. You’re the only one known to own a Beetle. People talk."
"What do they say?"
Irene sighs, dipping her brush into water. "That Shane Gunnar is a dangerous man. That he keeps to himself for a reason. And if you’re up there at that cabin... you’re either brave or crazy."
"He's a good father."
Irene gives me a look that says she knows exactly what I’m omitting. "Just be careful, Bianca. The mountain has its own laws. And the Gunnars are the law up there. But they aren't the only ones with teeth."
Ice trails down my spine.Stay away from the cliffs.
By the time we leave the library, it’s past noon. Maddie vibrates with sugar cravings, but we need real food first. "Lunch," I declare. "Then donuts."
"Timber Trail!" Maddie points to the rustic tavern down the street. "Daddy takes me there for fries."
I hesitate. The Timber Trail Tavern looks like the kind of place where locals drink whiskey at noon. But if Shane takes her there, it must be safe enough. "Timber Trail it is."
We walk in, and the atmosphere hits me instantly. Stale beer, sawdust, and grilled meat. I find a booth near the window, feeling the room’s gaze. My bright teal sundress clashes violently with the flannel-and-denim uniform of the patrons. I stick out like a flare.
A waitress drops menus on the table. "Coffee?"
"Please," I say. "And a lemonade for her."
Three men walk in. They wear dirty work flannels and heavy boots, carrying an air of loud, drunken self-importance. They claim the high-top table next to us. One of them, a guy with blonde buzzed hair, catches my eye. He smirks, scanning my body. Not appreciative. Predatory.
"New in town?" he asks, his voice carrying over the music.
I offer a tight smile and turn back to Maddie. "Do you want the grilled cheese, Mads?"
"I want the burger," she whispers, shrinking in her seat.
"Playing hard to get," the blonde guy says to his buddies, laughing. "I like that. You working at the lodge? Haven't seen a face like yours around here before."
"I'm busy." My tone clips the conversation.
He slides off his stool and steps toward our booth. "Come on, sweetheart. Just being friendly. I'm Kyle. We’re the real heroes of the ridge, you know?"
"That's nice, Kyle. Please leave us alone."
His smile falters. "You the nanny?" He looks at Maddie, then back at me. "Wait. You’re with the Gunnars? You’re the one staying at the freak’s cabin?"
The temperature in the room plummets. The other patrons go silent. "Watch your mouth," I snap, my protective instinct for Maddie flaring hot.
Kyle laughs, stepping closer until he looms over the table. He puts a hand on the edge of the booth, invading my space. "I’m just saying, you can do better than a grease-monkey biker who scares his own shadow. Why don't you ditch the kid and let a real man show you the trails?"
My heart hammers against my ribs, but lower down, my body is betraying me. Even in the face of Kyle’s aggression, the memory of Shane’s hands on me last night has my pussy giving a hard, wet throb. My clit is already swollen and aching, and I’m drenched in my own juices at the thought of Shane finding me here and punishing my disobedience with his thick cock. The aggression in the room is a spark to a fuse already lit.
"Touch me, and you'll regret it," I warn, my voice trembling.
