Heartstrings: The Complete Collection

1. Elli

Chapter 1

Elli

Kate Bush blares from my earbuds as I remove the bedding from the super king-size bed in Blueberry Hill cabin. What can I say? I’m a lover of eighties music, and Kate Bush is a genius with her unique voice and haunting lyrics. I bop my head and lift my arms dramatically as Kate and I sing “Babooshka!” in perfect harmony.

I sigh, thinking of my best friend, Harmony. She’s living her best life in New York City. I’m happy for her, but I miss her like crazy and can’t help feeling a little envious. We grew up together, and we’re more like sisters than friends, so it’s as if a piece of me is missing. My bestie is off touring the country and living the rock star life, and here I am, cleaning cabins and scrubbing toilets.

Although I have to admit, there are worse places to work. Set in the middle of a two-and-a-half thousand-acre nature preserve near the small town of Pembroke, Virginia, the Mountain Ridge Resort is stunning. Surrounded by the breathtaking Appalachian Mountains and with its freshwater lake, the resort was the location for a hit movie in the nineties, ensuring its ongoing popularity with guests of all ages and backgrounds. People from all over the world visit to see where movie magic was made. That and the glorious scenery, relaxed vibe, and vintage charm of the resort.

For the most part, I enjoy my work here at the resort, surrounded by nature and meeting people from all walks of life. But my heart yearns to break free from this small town and explore the treasures the rest of the world has to offer. Ha! As if that will ever happen. I barely earn enough to cover the rent and utilities each month. There’s no way I could afford to visit the fantastic destinations that appeal to me so much. My active imagination will have to suffice.

Once I’m done changing the sheets on the bed, I tackle the rest of the cabin, cleaning the kitchen, mopping and vacuuming the floors, plumping the couch cushions, and arranging the throw cushions perfectly on top.

By the time I’ve finished, the cabin looks immaculate and smells clean, fresh, and inviting. Sunlight filters through the windows, and the drapes flutter softly in the early September breeze. I nod with satisfaction. All ready for the next guests.

Locking the door behind me, I push my cleaning trolley toward Pineview, the final cabin on my cleaning schedule for the day.

I’ve worked at Mountain Ridge for three years since I graduated high school, and my job is the only thing keeping my family afloat—although I use the word “family” loosely. My stepfather never tires of telling me how lazy and useless I am. Oh, the irony because the man never lifts a finger around the house, and his two sons are even worse. God alone knows what my mom saw in him.

A familiar pang of grief throbs in my chest as I think of her. I miss her every day. She made me promise on her deathbed to look after my stepfather and stepbrothers before she succumbed to breast cancer. It’s a promise I’ve come to regret.

Unlocking Pineview cabin, I get straight to work, stripping and remaking the beds, gathering up the used towels and replacing them with neatly folded fresh ones, and scrubbing countertops and floors. The work is second nature to me, and the manual tasks help to calm my overactive brain, which is constantly tugged in ten different directions.

Music is another tool that helps me focus and keeps me motivated, so when the opening guitar riff from “Footloose” by Kenny Loggins hits my eardrums, the rhythm sinks into my muscles and my body takes over.

As Kenny sings about breaking free from the mundanities of life, I launch into an unrehearsed dance routine that would give Kevin Bacon a run for his money as I unleash my inner dance diva around the open-plan living room.

I leap and spin and pirouette, laughing joyously as my troubles melt away. Eyes closed, high on endorphins, I immerse myself in the music. Which is why I don’t see the cabin door open or the man who enters until I execute a beautiful leg extension kick that catches him right in the nuts.

He screams.

I scream.

I yank out my earbuds, backing up quickly and tripping over the rug behind me. My scream becomes a squeak as my arms cartwheel, and I land on my butt. Hard.

Meanwhile, the man has sunk to his knees, his face red and his eyes watering as he clutches his crotch.

“Oh, God, oh, God. I’m so sorry! I didn’t hear you and?—”

He holds up a finger to halt me, his cheeks puffing as he tries to suck in a breath.

“Oh! Yeah, um, sure, I’ll give you a minute to, uh, catch your breath,” I say lamely, scrambling to my feet.

I brush my hands down my faded jeans and discreetly stuff my boobs back into my bra. I was so absorbed in my dancing that I didn’t notice they were on an escape mission from their underwired prison.

The man slowly pushes to his feet, his face now a slightly less angry shade of puce.

I wait another minute, shifting awkwardly on my feet until I can’t bear the silence any longer. “Can I get you anything? A drink, or, uh, some ice for your, um…” I stutter to a halt, pointing at his hand cupping his junk.

“I think… I’ll need more than ice… to dislodge my balls… from my throat,” he puffs, wincing as his gaze settles on mine.

The air around me stills, and all the noise bombarding my brain fades to nothing. He’s… gorgeous. Thick brown sexily-tousled hair, neatly trimmed beard over a defined jawline, and sculpted cheekbones. Dark eyebrows, straight nose, full lips. Even his nostrils and earlobes are pretty. But it’s his eyes that root me to the spot—two pools of gusset-scorching, ovary-swooning goodness currently searing their way over my body in a leisurely inventory.

My eyes wander down his body, taking in his broad shoulders, wide chest, and lean waist. His jeans hug his muscular thighs and holy crap , I must’ve landed a solid kick because that is some serious swelling he’s got going on in the crotch department. Unless…

My eyes widen. “Are you…?”

“Hard.” He nods, completely unembarrassed. “Seems to be a by-product of having my balls kicked into my throat.”

“Oh.” I blow out a disappointed breath. Nothing to do with him being insanely attracted to me, then. “At least I didn’t break your tallywhacker.”

He raises an eyebrow. “My what now?”

“Your tallywhacker. Your dingwallace. Gigglestick.” He’s staring at me like I’m crazy. Okay, he’s not so far off the mark, but… “Your co?—"

“Okay, okay, I get it,” he says, holding up a hand to stall me, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. His full, lush, kissable mouth.

A sudden, stark image pops into my head of him kissing me all over my naked body with that sinful mouth while he thrusts…

“Huh?” I mumble, realizing he’s asked me a question. Focus, Elli.

“Do you work here?” he repeats slowly.

“Oh, um, yeah. I’m a domestic. A cleaner. You know, a maid. Like a mountain maid, I guess.” I grin, waving my arm to indicate the mountains surrounding us.

“What’s your name,” he asks, taking a step closer.

“Elli. Dancer. Elli Dancer.”

His brown eyes spark with humor. “Do you always use three words when one would suffice?”

“Ugh! I’m sorry. It’s my brain. I have trouble concentrating and tend to act impulsively but… wait a minute. You’re not going to report me, are you? Is that why you asked for my name? I truly am sorry I kicked you in the plums but I swear it was an accident. Footloose came on my playlist and I couldn’t help myself and had to dance but please don’t report me because I need this job to pay my rent. Plus, it keeps me fit. Who needs the gym when I can hone every muscle in my body with daily scrubbing, mopping, and hefting a forty-pound cleaning cart between my fifteen allocated cabins?” I flex a bicep to prove my point. “Yeah, they don’t call me ‘The Bionic Woman’ for nothing. Okay, no one calls me that but wouldn’t it be cool to be part cyborg? To have bionic legs and arms and hearing? I could crush metal in my bare hands and run at sixty miles per hour and hear a pin drop in the next state. I’m not sure how useful the last one would be but it’s a skill and I’d still include it on my resume. Plus, I’d have these cabins sparkling in no time, and, oh, God, I’m doing it again, aren’t I? I’m sorry, I—” I close my eyes and clamp my mouth shut, balling my hands into fists at my sides and forcing myself to take a deep breath.

When I open my eyes again, Mr. Melty-Eyes is standing there, giving me a look I can’t decipher, and my nerves kick in again. “So, where are you from? Did you have a good journey? Are you here on vacation, or is this a work thing?” I pause, take another breath, and drop my gaze to the floor. “Sorry. I know I can be a bit much.”

I startle as a hand tilts my chin up so I’m looking into those beautiful brown eyes. When did he move?

Note to self: add stealthy ninja to his ever-growing list of attributes .

“Don’t ever apologize for being who you are, Elli Dancer,” he says, his deep baritone swishing across my skin and causing goosebumps to chase up my arms and across my chest. “Your name suits you. Don’t be scared to dance your way through life.” His mouth twitches. “But be careful where you aim those kicks.”

My eyes drop to his mouth as it tugs up in a lopsided smile. Spicy meatballs , I’m in trouble. My body is heating in ways and places that will require a change of underwear when I get home.

Every nerve-ending tingles as I lose myself in his intense gaze. Before I can think better of it, I step forward, yank his head down to mine, and kiss his face off…