Page 5

She’s still an outsider who tagged my mother’s bakery for her own benefit. It shouldn’t bother me that she’s stranded and probably out a few hundred bucks.

I care anyway, and it pisses me off.

Mom smooths the front of her apron and steps closer. “Oh, honey, no. You’re not driving mountain roads in this weather, and you’re not sleeping in some stranger’s garage an hour away. You’ll stay with us.”

I already know what’s coming, and it’s not going to fly. Mom’s extra bedroom has already been claimed. Zephyr dropped off a new apprentice who’s moving here from Colorado this morning. I open my mouth to say so, but Mom glances at me, then back at Lila, and I know she’s already made a decision.

“My guest room is occupied and a bit damp at the moment, and we’ve got Zephyr’s new guy from West Palomino on the couch. But the old ridge cabin, higher up the mountain is empty. Generator works; roof is solid. There’s barely cell service, but it’s as tight as a drum. Gideon will take you up.”

Lila’s uncertain gaze flicks to me. I feel the weight of both women’s eyes and try to think of a way out. The last thing I need is this woman—this Miss Curvy Pumpkin Spice from the internet—next to me in my truck. Hell, it could be exactly what I need, but that’s not the point. She doesn’t belong here.

The emergency cabin sits higher on Stone Mountain in dense pine territory. The kind of isolated place a city girl in heels has no business staying alone in during a November storm. Which is why leaving her there is also a problem. I hate both options equally.

Mom’s voice softens, but there’s no room for argument. “Will you take her up to the ridge, Gideon? It’s the best we’ve got tonight.”

Pumpkin spice blinks up and traps me in a blue-eyed stare. “I’m so sorry. I’m sure you have a million other things to do today. I hate to put you out.”

“It’s fine. No problem,” slips out without a thought, and damn if I didn’t just smile at her. She’s already chipping away at my armor.

I grunt something that might be “get in the truck” and head for the door before I do something even more stupid. The cabin is ten minutes up the mountain. Ten minutes too long with her vanilla scent filling my cab, six hundred seconds of me trying not to notice the way she pulls at the cuff of her sleeve when she doesn’t know what to say.

Not good.

I should tell Mom I can’t do this. I should claim a work emergency, a downed line, anything. But I keep walking, keep holding the door, hating myself for the part of me that wants to be the one to solve her problems.

Chapter three

I follow Gideon from the warmth of the Grizzly Grind. Day one, and my motel room is already gone, along with four hundred prepaid dollars I can’t afford to lose.

The handle of my tool case is slick with sweat. Exhaustion is clouding my thoughts, but Clara’s kindness is solid, something I can cling to. Going with the flow is my only option, even if it feels like I’m about to be swept over a waterfall.

He opens the passenger side of his big truck for me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I’m not used to that. They may have sketchy cell service up here in these mountains, but apparently people still open car doors for women.

We drive to the Knotty Pines Motel in thick silence, and when we pull up there are two men, one considerably older, already waiting outside for us under the covered walkway.

Both men wave as we approach.

“Hey, Eli, Jethro, this is Lila, the woman you just kicked out of your motel,” Gideon says casually.

The younger man introduces himself as Eli, and apologizes for a part on backorder.

“Lila’s in room seven. It’s open,” Jethro informs us with a grunt, without uncrossing his arms.

“Be right back.” Gideon nods and heads for the room. He takes off so fast, I’m not sure he heard me thank him.

As the men talk pipes, Gideon returns and loads my suitcases into his truck. A wave of gratitude washes over me, so strong it’s almost nauseating, because the dread is still there, cold and heavy in my gut. Maya’s joke about “no-one-can-hear-you-scream territory” rings in my ears, suddenly not funny at all. With no other choice, I get back in the truck.

I’m not sure what to make of Mr. Mountain Man. Other than the fake smile he gave me in front of his mom, he looked at me like I was something he’d tracked in on his boot the whole time at the Grizzly Grind. How can he be such a cocky ass when his mother is so sweet?

And now I’m stuck with him.

I sneak a look. Nice profile. Those thighs are pretty damn big, and he could fill an airline hangar with those shoulders, no problem. He’s the kind of guy who makes a room feel smaller just by standing in it. Even under that jacket I can see he’s pretty much an eleven, and he knows it. Obviously.

The paved road up to the emergency cabin unfortunately doesn’t last long. I take a deep cleansing breath when Gideon turns onto a steep dirt path that switchbacks up the mountain. I can only imagine the drop-off the edge on my side, so I try not to look. I tighten my grip on the seatbelt and try for some light, petrified conversation.

“You know, I’ve never slept in a place that didn’t have streetlights. Or traffic, for that matter. I like the snow, but it probably gets pretty dark out here, huh?”

He glances at me, the first real look since we left the bakery. Something in his expression softens, and then, as if he catches himself being nice, it stiffens again. “Nothing’s going to get into the cabin. Slade winterized it last month. You’ll be safe up here.”