Beast of Misty Mountain (Misty Mountain #6)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

MARILEE

F or someone who showed up without any experience, you’re doing a damn good job, Marilee,” my boss comments as I wipe down the bar, his hands tucked into the pockets of his worn denim apron. He works a toothpick between his teeth as he watches me like I haven’t been doing this for the past two months.

I smile and shrug, then reach for a glass on the bar and put it in the dishwasher. “Thanks, Hank. I know I’ve told you this a million times before, but thank you for taking a chance on me.”

Hank reaches behind me to grab a clean glass and pull a fresh beer for a customer. “You’ve done well with the tourists. They’re rowdier than the locals and drink more. And everyone thinks they’re your friend after two beers.”

“I thought that was universal in all bars. I’ve certainly heard more stories than I can even remember now.” I grin and run my rag over the hardwood counter.

This job is so much different from my office job back in Jefferson. I knew applying for this was a shot in the dark, but I got lucky. Another woman was already hired but then dropped out for some reason. It’s probably why Hank took a chance on me, and I’m thankful. I couldn’t have stayed in Jefferson any longer, not after the breakup with Mark. If it wasn’t Misty Mountain, I would have gone somewhere else.

The tavern hums behind us—low music, chairs scraping, and conversations blending into a background chatter that makes me smile. I never expected a bar to feel comforting, but this one does. I actually look forward to coming to work.

Hank leans on the back counter like he’s settling in. “How’s the cabin working out?”

“The cabin?” I repeat, pouring a new order of beers. “It’s awesome. I still can’t get over how quiet it is! I’ve been sleeping like the dead. Thank you so much for helping me find a place. I needed an escape from home, and you helped make that happen.”

“Oh, you don’t have to say all that,” he says, waving me off. “You needed a job, and the other girl fell through. Plus, the guy I’m looking after the cabin for won’t return until after you’re finished here, so everything works out. I’m happy to help people when I can, and you’ve been a damn good employee.” He gives me a look that makes me think there’s a lot he’s not saying. “You’re not getting too used to it, are you?”

I pause as I place a tip into the pitcher behind the counter. “Too used to what?”

“Misty Mountain. I’ve seen it happen before. Folks come for the summer and forget to leave. I know it’s busy now because of tourist season, but this is a pretty sleepy place the rest of the year.”

“I could do worse,” I say with a little laugh. “I never thought I’d feel as comfortable here as I do… I guess I’m more of a mountain girl than I realized.”

Hank chuckles and smiles broadly. “Told you Misty Mountain grows on folks. You stay much longer, and one of these men will make an honest woman of you.”

I stop wiping the counter and roll my eyes. “Hank, please. I’ve told you. I’m fresh out of a bad relationship, and I’m certainly not looking for another. Men are a complication I don’t need in my life.”

Hank lifts an eyebrow like he doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t get a chance to argue because another tourist comes up to the bar to order a fresh round of drinks and order some food.

I work on his order, and a familiar flicker passes through me—a memory that won’t let go. Mark, with his charming smile and critical eyes. The way he’d call me “intense” when I had opinions, then thoroughly yell at me to tell me I was wrong and stupid. He hated it when my opinions didn’t align with his own. How we veered between getting into intense verbal fights to him treating me like an afterthought in his life. Trying to act the way he wanted was a constant struggle, instead of him doing any work to support our relationship. It was watching my friend Hanna fall in love with her now-fiancé, Jordan, that finally inspired me to stand up for myself and leave Mark. It’s the best decision I’ve made.

A chill runs through me at the memory. I came here to get away from my ex-boyfriend, not have his ghost haunt me. I can’t believe I gave that asshole ten years of my life.

I’m not going back to that. Ever. Sometimes I miss having a man in my life, but I wouldn’t admit it to anyone. It’s weird not going on dates or telling someone about my day, but following my own schedule and keeping to myself has been freeing. It wasn’t until I’d been here a few weeks that I realized how much I’d been walking on eggshells back home, even before the breakup. In only a few weeks, I’d been so calm that it took me by surprise.

Right now, my life is perfect.

A sharp, loud sound makes me bolt upright in bed. My heart races as my mind tries to catch up. What was that?! I grab my phone, which says it’s past 3 a.m.

My breath is caught somewhere in my throat as my mind leaps straight to wild speculations. Is it an animal? A robbery? I pull the blanket tightly around me when I hear the unmistakable sound of boots on wood—slow, heavy steps—and a distinctly human curse being muttered.

My pulse spikes as I grab for the lamp, fingers fumbling with the switch. When light spills across the room, it lands on a towering figure in the doorway, framed in shadow. He’s massive, with powerful shoulders and arms, broad and braced like he’s ready to fight. His jaw is locked tight, and stormy blue eyes pin me in place.

“What the hell?” I manage to say, trying to hide how terrified I am. I don’t know whether to try to run or surrender.

He doesn’t flinch. “Who the fuck are you,” he growls, “and why are you in my bed?”

The words don’t register at first. I blink rapidly. What does he mean, his bed?

My heart thunders as my mind races. I clutch the blanket tighter around myself as I inch toward the foot of the bed, feet bare on the cool wood floor.

“Your cabin?” I repeat, blinking. “What are you talking about? This is my cabin. I paid for it.”

He takes another step into the room, every inch of him radiating tension. He doesn’t look confused or apologetic—just furious.

“I built this place,” he says, voice low. “You’re trespassing.”

I suck in a breath and shoot a glance toward my backpack that’s propped in the corner of the room. I move quickly, careful not to trip over the edge of the blanket as I stride over to it. He doesn’t move, but watches me with an intensity that makes me squirm. I yank out the folded-up rental agreement and shove it toward him.

“I paid for this place. I have a signed lease. Hank rented it to me. He told me it was vacant, and I could have it through Labor Day.”

He takes the paper but doesn’t even glance at me as his eyes scan the document. His expression shifts from irritated to something colder. His jaw flexes, and a vein ticks in his temple.

“He what?” he mutters under his breath. “He was supposed to call me if he was going to rent this out.”

“You mean,” I say, narrowing my eyes, “you know Hank?”

“I’ve known Hank a long time,” he says. Some of the fury and tension eases, but he’s still staring at the lease like he’s trying to burn a hole in it. “This cabin’s mine.”

My mouth opens. Then closes. My mind is in overdrive. Do I have any options? No. No, I don’t. It’s high season in Misty Mountain, and no rentals have been available since before Hank hired me and set me up in this cabin.

I have no place to go if this towering man kicks me out. Sleeping in my car doesn’t sound fun, but I might not have another option if this guy makes me leave.

“Well, he told me it was available,” I say slowly, pretending to be bolder than I am. “And I’ve been living here for two months already. I’m not leaving.”

I don’t know if I’m being brave or stupid by talking back to this man like this. Probably both because he’s so big he makes me look tiny–which is something that’s never happened before–and like he could pick me up with one arm.

He looks at me again like I’m an annoying mosquito. If anything, he looks more irritated now that I’m standing my ground.

“You’re not leaving,” he repeats flatly, looking at me like he thinks I’m an idiot.

“No,” I snap. “I still have a month left on my lease. You can take it up with Hank.”

He doesn’t respond right away. He stands there, staring at me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m worth arguing with.

He exhales, slow and sharp, then raises both hands in surrender.

“Okay,” he says, voice rough. “Let’s start over.”

I don’t drop my guard, but I tuck the lease back into my backpack.

“I’m Milo Adamson,” he says. “This is my cabin. I’ve been out of town the past couple of months, working a job. It was supposed to go through end of September but got cut short.”

“Marilee Robertson,” I reply. “I’m working at The Rusty Elk for the summer until Labor Day. I’ve been here since June.”

His eyes flick toward the window like he’s weighing his options. He nods once in a sharp motion.

“I’m not about to let some stranger take over my space,” he says, not exactly confrontational but not inviting either.

“Well,” I snap, crossing my arms over my chest, “I’m not about to let some man with a bad attitude tell me what I can and can’t do.” As if I didn’t have enough of that kind of talk from my ex.

He raises an eyebrow, and for one breath of a second, something shifts in his expression, like he’s trying to resist laughing.

He runs a hand over his short dark hair, exhaling again. “Fine.”

“But this is the only bedroom.” Inwardly, I groan. Is he going to make me sleep on the couch? I’ve napped there, but it’s not comfortable enough to sleep on for a full night. But…what other option do I have?

“I’ll sleep outside,” he says. “There’s a hammock off the porch.”

I stare at him, disbelieving. “You’re serious? What if it rains?” I ask. No idea why this pops into my head, but the words are out of my mouth faster than I can stop them.

He shrugs, like weather is the least of his problems. “Then I get wet.”

He turns back to the living space and grabs the extra quilt off the couch without another word. The muscles in his back stretch the fabric of his shirt as he stomps toward the door. When he opens the front door, I shiver as a cool breeze comes in.

Alone again, the adrenaline starts to ebb, giving way to a rush of heat that burns in my core. I breathe out, glance toward the now-empty living room, then down at myself. I’m still in my tank top. Still wrapped in a blanket.

Still way too aware of what Milo Adamson looked like in the doorway—scarred, scowling, and infuriatingly hot.

It’s not like I want a fling. I’ve told Hanna that a hundred times when she calls to check in on me. But even she would admit that if I were going to have one, this man would qualify. Rugged. Handsome. Definitely not boyfriend material. He’s the kind of man who makes you mad the moment he opens his mouth, but who’s probably amazing in bed.

I shake my head. Thinking about sex with Milo is really the last thing I should be doing. The point of coming to Misty Mountain was to get away from my ex, not to find a new man. I came here to figure out what I wanted to do next. I’m not even sure if I want to go back to Jefferson.

And yet, here I am, sharing a cabin with the first man in months to actually make my stomach flip.