My Surly Valentine (Hope Peak Valentine’s Day)

Chapter 1

1

HAZEL

O h boy. This was a really bad idea.

I drive slowly up the hill, struggling to see through the light rain across the windshield, searching for landmarks.

I’m really not sure about that last turn.

It said to go North, which I’m pretty sure was left, but…maybe not. These winding roads have me all turned around, and the GPS stopped working five minutes out of Hope Peak.

This mountain cabin had better be worth it. My friend Carla said she remembers her grandfather’s cabin being “adorable” when she was young, although she hasn’t been here in years. Apparently the entire extended family uses it now and then when they need to get away, but never in February.

A wave of relief washes over me when the headlights finally find a small wooden cabin. Hmm. It’s a bit smaller than I was expecting.

There’s a huge gravel parking lot, and I pull in behind the cabin to get out of the wind. Carla had warned me that this spot is in some mountain nook where it’s almost always windy. She also said the roads wash out often, and if there’s a lot of rain or snow, I’m supposed to stay put.

Whatever. I made it.

The road continues past the cabin up what looks to be an incredibly steep hill. I’m seriously glad I didn’t have to deal with that: the practically bald tires on my little car would never have made it.

It takes me two trips to get my suitcase, backpack and small bags of groceries to the front porch. I feel along the top of the door frame until I find the key, but out of habit still knock sharply before unlocking the door and turning on the light switch right by it. Then I turn up the thermostat.

Interesting. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this. Carla made it sound like an old family hideaway. I was expecting some board games, family photos, maybe a few trail maps. Instead, the one-room cabin is clean, but austere. Thickly paneled walls. Open shelves with plates and mugs. A bookshelf stuffed full of paperbacks together with a few wildlife and survivalist books. A king-size bed with heavy, navy-blue quilts. A small, utilitarian bathroom.

Fine. It has power, and when I try the bathroom tap the water smells fresh. This will be the perfect spot for me to concentrate and get my work done over the next week or two.

It’s kind of weird that the last person here didn’t wash their dishes, though. They left a coffee mug, plates, knife, and fork in the sink. Well, maybe they were taking off before a storm or something.

Since it’s pretty late, I decide to go straight to bed, and get really settled in the morning. I turn the heat down, change into warm, flannel pajamas, then cuddle into the massive bed.

It almost feels too big, like I’m on the edge of an abyss. I leave the small bedside light on for a little bit while I stretch out and decompress from the long drive. It really was the best way to put some space between me and my father.

I had thought that going away to university to study English literature for two years would make him think of me as a grown-up, and stop him trying to control every move I make.

It turns out he only allowed me to go to school to make me appear more appealing to my future husband – that he was going to select.

I mean , ick.

I turn onto my side at the very edge of the bed, reach out to snap off the light, then curl into a ball, excited to start my three-month probation period at a fascinating job I’m truly looking forward to. I’m also pleased at the idea of getting some peace and quiet here in this charming mountain cabin, with fresh air and complete solitude.

It takes me a while to fall asleep, between the branches creaking in the nearby trees and the wind whistling around the cabin. But eventually I drift off, waking again when the wind blasts so hard the entire cabin shakes.

Wait… The bed is actually shaking.

“What the fuck?”

A deep voice rumbles right by me. I shriek when something moves over me, and the bedside light snaps on.

I’m face to face with an angry man.

He glares, staring at me strangely. When he realizes I’m half his size, his face softens and he slides out of the bed to stand a few feet away. “Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my cabin?”

I turn and sit up, so that he can get a good look at my face and realize that I’m not a threat. My mouth almost falls open as I get a better look at him. Wow… There is a lot to look at. He’s huge, with massive, sculpted shoulders – one of them decorated with a half sleeve of ink. His opposite forearm is wrapped in tattoos as well.

I can’t help staring at his rock-hard chest, sculpted abs, and the fact that he’s not wearing anything but black shorts. This man is… sexy . Like, unbelievably, panty-melting, gasping-for-breath sexy. Lust blooms deep inside me as my face flushes.

My eyes snap to his rough-hewn, bearded face, as I lock eyes with him. There’s a slight scar over his eyebrow that makes him look… I can’t describe it. Too intense to be gorgeous, but right on the edge.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” His gravel voice softens slightly. “What are you, a runaway or something?”

I shake my head. “Not at all. Carla said it was okay if I used the cabin.”

“Who’s Carla?” he asks, pulling on a t-shirt.

“Carla Dockerty. Evan’s granddaughter.”

A spark of puzzlement flickers in his eyes, then his shoulders drop. “The Dockerty cabin is on the other side of the river.”

“Crap. I must have taken a wrong turn.” Looking toward the window, it’s pitch black out, but I can just see the rain splashing against the glass. “Could you please write down directions for me? I’ll get out of your way?—”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

He holds up a hand, his rugged face softening. “I don’t mean that in a kidnapper kind of way. Just that it’s about to snow, and the other cabin is three miles away. And after all the rain we’ve had the past few days, there’s an eighty percent chance that the road is washed out at Cedar’s Corner anyway.”

“Oh.” Looking around the room, the only other furniture is a kitchen table with four wooden chairs.

He sighs. “Listen, Goldilocks, it’s late and I need to crash. Just sleep where you are. I’ll stay on my side, leave you the hell alone, and we’ll figure this out in the morning. Fair?”

Sleeping next to that sculpted hunk? “Very fair. Thank you.”

He slides back into bed, making sure that there’s a good foot of space between us before switching off the light. “I’m Axton, by the way.”

“Hazel.”

He chuckles. “A story-book name for a girl who’s lost in the woods. Makes sense.”

He falls asleep almost immediately: I can hear the exact point where his breath changes, becoming deeper and slower. Even with my back to him, I can feel the empty space between us, sense his presence. Big, and warm, and solid.

He’s very different from any man I’ve ever met. Maybe that’s why I feel…whatever this is.

It takes me a while to doze off. After backing up a few inches so I’m not hanging off the edge of the bed, I can feel the heat of the man right behind me.

Then my eyes slowly open. I must have been asleep for several hours – the kind of deep, dreamless sleep that’s like falling into a bottomless pit, so when you wake up you feel completely refreshed. I’m warm. I hear a soft, murmuring sound. I feel safe and protected, and more comfortable than I’ve ever been.

Gradually I realize that my back is held firmly to Axton’s chest. His arm is slung over my stomach, his hand resting on my waist. His deep breathing ruffles the top of my hair.

I don’t know which of us reached for the other in the night, but it feels…natural. Like the best possible way to sleep.

I hear the rain turning to snow against the window and listen to the wind whistling outside as I snuggle contentedly back into the stranger’s chest.

If being this close to him makes me feel so grounded and warm, maybe I should take advantage of it for our one night together.

Right?