Mountain Man’s Winter Beauty (Wildwood Valley Firehouse #1)

Chapter 1 Gabby

GABBY

The wind had been howling for the past hour, rattling the windows of the Wildwood Ridge Roadhouse like it was trying to get inside. I topped off the sweet tea in front of the dark-haired firefighter—Hux, I think his name was—and tried not to look at the man sitting at the end of the booth.

Mason.

I knew his name. Had since the first week the new firefighters started coming in. Hard to forget a man built like that—broad shoulders, arms straining against his thermal shirt, hands big enough to palm a basketball. Or my breast.

Not that I’d thought about that.

Okay, I’d thought about it—a lot.

Too bad he wanted nothing to do with me.

I moved around the table, filling glasses and smiling at the guys who actually made eye contact. Conner grinned up at me. Wolfe gave me a polite nod. Knox was too busy checking his phone to notice I existed.

And Mason? He stared at his basket of wings like it held the secrets of the universe.

Whatever. I had bigger problems tonight. Like being the only server on shift when a storm was supposed to hit hard within the hour. On top of that, my twelve-year-old sedan was not going to make it up the mountain in a blizzard. The bald tires alone were basically a death sentence.

“Y’all need anything else?” I asked, keeping my voice bright. Professional. Totally unaffected by the silent giant at the end of the table.

“We’re good, sweetheart,” Conner said, leaning back in his seat. He shot a look at Mason. “Although some of us could use a personality transplant.”

A couple of the guys snickered. Mason’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look up.

I pretended not to notice and headed back toward the bar, where Elsa was wiping down glasses with her usual calm demeanor. The roadhouse was empty except for the firefighters’ table. Everyone else had the good sense to hunker down before the storm hit.

“They’re settling in for the long haul,” Elsa said, nodding toward the booth. “Heard them talking. They’re bunking at the station during the storm. Gotta be on call twenty-four-seven once it gets bad.”

“Good for them.” I set the tea pitcher down and rubbed my lower back. I’d been on my feet for six hours, and the thought of driving home in this weather made my stomach churn. “At least they have somewhere warm to sleep.”

Elsa gave me a look. “Your car still acting up?”

“It’s fine.” It was not fine. “Just need new tires.”

And a new transmission. And probably a new car, if I was being honest.

The kitchen door swung open, and Kameron strode out, her manager’s clipboard clutched against her chest. She took one look at the windows—now streaked with the first flurries of snow—and frowned.

“Gabby. Clock out. Go home.”

I blinked. “What? No, I can stay. We’ve still got—”

“One table.” Kameron cut me off with a wave of her hand. “And they’re not ordering anything else. Storm’s hitting faster than the forecast said. You need to get out of here before the roads get bad.”

I hesitated. She wasn’t wrong about the storm, but those firefighters always tipped well. Like, forty-percent-of-the-bill well. And I needed every dollar I could get if I was ever going to escape my crappy apartment and my crappier car.

“Kam, I’m fine. Really. I can wait until they’re done.”

“Gabby.” Her voice softened, which was somehow worse than her usual manager tone. “Your car barely made it up the mountain last week when it wasn’t snowing. I’m not letting you drive home in a blizzard.”

Shit. She had a point.

I glanced toward the windows again. The snow was coming down harder now, thick flakes swirling in the parking lot lights. My stomach sank. Even if I left right now, there was a decent chance I’d end up in a ditch.

“I don’t…” I bit my lip. God, this was embarrassing. “I’m not sure my car can make it. The tires are pretty bald.”

Kameron’s frown deepened. Before she could respond, a burst of laughter came from the firefighters’ table. I turned to see Conner shoving Mason’s shoulder, saying something I couldn’t quite make out.

Then I caught a fragment. “—last meal before you’re stuck staring at our ugly faces for five days. Just talk to her, man.”

My heart stuttered. Talk to who?

“Watch,” another guy said—Briggs, I think. “He’s gonna choke. Again.”

“Shut up,” Mason muttered, his voice low but not low enough. His ears had gone red.

Oh. Oh, they were teasing him about a woman. Some woman he couldn’t work up the nerve to talk to. That tracked. Big, brooding guys like Mason probably had women throwing themselves at them constantly. He could afford to be picky.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t even get him to look at me.

I watched Kameron zoom past me toward the table as I pushed down the stupid pang of disappointment.

It wasn’t like I’d expected anything. Mason had been coming in here for days, and he’d barely said two words to me.

If he was interested in someone, it clearly wasn’t the server who kept refilling his sweet tea.

“One of you boys has a truck, right?”

Kameron’s voice cut through my thoughts. I whipped my head around to find her standing at the edge of the firefighters’ booth, hands on her hips.

Oh no. No no no.

“My server needs a ride up the mountain,” Kameron continued, oblivious to my internal panic. “Her car’s not going to make it in this weather. Anyone got four-wheel drive?”

Silence fell over the table. Every single firefighter turned and looked at Mason.

Conner’s grin spread slow and wide. “Mason’s got a truck. Four-wheel drive, big tires. He’d be happy to help. Right, Mason?”

Someone must have kicked him under the table. I saw his whole body jerk. Meanwhile, his face had gone from pink to full-on red. He still wasn’t looking at me—was staring at his plate like he could will himself to disappear. But then he nodded, once, sharp.

“Yeah.” His voice came out rough. He cleared his throat. “I can—I’ll take you. If you want.”

If I want?

I opened my mouth to protest—to say I’d figure something out, that I didn’t need a pity ride from a man who couldn’t even meet my eyes—but Kameron was already nodding.

“Perfect. Gabby, grab your coat.”

I stood frozen for a second, acutely aware of the smirks being exchanged around the table. They knew something I didn’t. Or maybe they were just entertained by Mason’s obvious discomfort.

Either way, I didn’t have much choice. The snow was coming down in sheets now, and my bald tires weren’t going to magically grow tread.

“Fine,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Let me grab my stuff.”

I didn’t look at Mason as I walked to the back to get my coat. But I felt his eyes on me the whole way.

That was new.

Mason’s truck was massive. Like, comically large. The kind of truck that made you wonder if the owner was compensating for something—except I’d seen Mason, and he didn’t seem like the type who needed to compensate for anything.

He opened the passenger door for me, which was unexpected. Even more unexpected was the way he hovered, like he wanted to help me up but wasn’t sure if that would be weird.

It would have been weird. But also kind of sweet.

I hauled myself into the cab, which took more effort than I wanted to admit, and settled into the leather seat. It was warm—he must have started the truck remotely while I was getting my coat. Thoughtful.

Mason climbed in on the driver’s side, and suddenly the massive cab felt a lot smaller. He was big. Big enough that his shoulder nearly brushed mine even with the center console between us.

He put the truck in gear without a word.

The silence stretched as we pulled out of the parking lot. Snow swirled in the headlights, thick and fast. I watched his hands on the steering wheel—capable hands, steady even as the wind buffeted the truck.

“Thanks for this,” I finally said, because someone had to break the silence before I lost my mind. “You really didn’t have to.”

“It’s fine.”

Two words. He didn’t even glance at me. Cool. Great. This was going to be a fun ride.

I tried again. “So, you guys are stuck at the station for the whole storm?”

“Yep.”

“That sounds…cozy.”

“Mmm.”

I bit back a sigh. Talking to Mason was like pulling teeth.

The road narrowed as we started up the mountain. The snow was thicker here, accumulating fast on the pavement. Mason’s grip tightened on the wheel, his jaw set with concentration.

I should have kept my mouth shut. Let him focus. But the silence was killing me.

“Look, I get it,” I said, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. “Your friends volunteered you, and now you’re stuck driving me home when you’d rather be anywhere else. I’m sorry you got roped into this. Once you drop me off, you can—”

The truck fishtailed.

I gasped, grabbing the oh-shit handle as Mason fought the wheel. For a terrifying second, we were sliding sideways, the world outside the windows nothing but white. Then the tires caught—or didn’t catch, because we were suddenly lurching off the road, the truck tilting as we slid into the ditch.

The impact wasn’t bad—more of a jarring stop than a crash. But my heart was pounding like I’d just run a marathon, and my fingers were white-knuckled on the handle.

“You okay?”

Mason’s voice was closer than I expected. I turned to find him twisted in his seat, his eyes—dark, intense, worried—locked on my face.

“I’m fine,” I managed. “Are you?”

He nodded once, then turned back to try the gas. The engine revved, but the tires just spun uselessly. He tried again, rocking the truck forward and back. No luck.

“Shit.” He rubbed a hand over his face, then reached for the radio on his belt. “I’ve gotta call this in.”

I sat in mortified silence as he radioed the firehouse. Conner’s voice came back, crackling with static and barely concealed amusement.

“You got stuck? With Gabby?” A pause. Someone laughed in the background. “Damn, Mason. That’s tragic.”

“Can you just send somebody?” Mason’s voice was flat.

More crackling. Then Conner again, sounding slightly more serious. “Yeah, about that. There’s a tree down across Main Street near Old Bear Ridge. Must’ve come down right after you passed it. We’re gonna have to cut through it before we can get to you.”

Mason closed his eyes. “How long?”

“Forty-five minutes? Maybe an hour?” Conner paused. “We’ll radio when we’re close. You two just…sit tight. Keep each other warm.”

The radio clicked off.

Mason set it down slowly, staring straight ahead at the snow piling up on the windshield. His jaw was tight. His ears were red again.

An hour. We were stuck here for an hour. In this truck. Together.

The windows were already starting to fog.