Chapter 6
Petula
Closing the door behind me, my head swirls as my body feels like it was set on fire.
I hugged Flint spontaneously with zero thought in my head because of how much the sexy lumberjack had helped me the last two days, but I was not prepared for my body to feel this way.
Leaning against the door, I look around my aunt's old cabin as my heart pounds under my ribs.
The last seventy-two hours of my life have been a batshit insane whirlwind. The thought makes me chuckle, but I shake my head and push myself to stand fully upright.
I walk into the living room and start a fire in the hearth, grumbling that I don't have the same skills as Flint. Eventually, I get a decent flame going.
I look down at my battered wedding gown, which I had thrown on again to make the journey here, and shuffle into the master bedroom.
The dresser drawers are empty, which makes sense since my aunt was renting out the place.
But when I dig into the back of the closet, I find several sets of sweatpants and sweatshirts she must have tucked away for whenever she stayed here on the mountain.
They smell musty, but I throw on the least offensive set and dump the rest into the washer.
I walk back out into the living room and glance over at the kitchen. This cabin has an open concept similar to Flint's, and I spot the bottle of whiskey he gifted me sitting on the counter. I dig out a glass from the cabinet, the kind I grew up with in the eighties, and fill it with a healthy pour.
I settle into the rocker by the fire, put my feet up on the ottoman, and take a sip of the liquid.
The color makes me think of Flint's golden-brown eyes, and I smile to myself.
I'm sure I overstayed my welcome, even though he insisted otherwise.
And I'm sure he has zero interest in some runaway bride from Vegas.
But I'm still happy I get to see him at least one more time when I figure out what to do with my beat-up car.
I close my eyes and place the glass on the side table, slipping my hand down my sweats.
My pussy has been buzzing nonstop since our hug on the front step.
I begin to circle my clit as a sigh escapes my lips.
I picture Flint in his Dickies and flannel shirt, looking at me with his grumpy, ruggedly handsome face.
Instantly, my fantasy shifts to him on his knees before me, his scratchy beard between my thighs, licking my pussy and swirling his tongue around my clit.
I rub more frantically as I imagine him sliding a couple of fingers in as well, finger-fucking me as he eats me out.
This sends me over the edge, and my legs flail out as my body crumbles under the weight of my orgasm.
Sliding my hand back out of the pants, I grab the whiskey next to me and softly laugh, shaking my head.
"Damn," I whisper to myself before taking a sip.
"I'm running out of food," I say, looking into the refrigerator.
"What? Can you just Instacart something?" My sister says over the speakerphone, making me laugh.
"I kind of don't think that happens too often on this mountain."
As soon as I say this, I hear tires on my driveway.
"I think someone's here," I say, grabbing the phone and walking over to the window.
My stomach flips when I see the broad-shouldered lumberjack step out of his truck and give me a wave through the window.
"Holy shit, Flint's here!"
"Oh, a hot lumberjack visitor? Text me how it goes," my sister teases before hanging up.
I open the door and a gasp escapes my lips when I see him walking up the path carrying several bags of groceries.
"Good morning. I figured you were running out of food by now," he says, stepping past me and walking into my kitchen.
I stare at him in shock. "You didn't have to do this, Flint," I finally manage to say.
"Nonsense. You can't starve," he says gruffly, unpacking the groceries.
"Would you like some tea? I was just brewing some," I say as my kettle whistles.
"Sure," he says, not looking at me.
While our tea bags steep in the hot water, I dig my wallet out of my purse. "How much do I owe you?"
"Nonsense. My treat," he says with an abrupt wave of his hand.
"Are you kidding? You just bought me a week's worth of groceries," I say incredulously.
He ignores my comment and says, "So my buddy Conrad in Corvid Valley drove up and towed your car down the mountain to his shop, and he'll let me know when it's ready."
"Oh, wow. Thank you," I say, and his gruff exterior slightly melts with a smile.
The next morning, I wake up with my head resting in the open grimoire. I stretch, craning my neck as I look out the window. A light snow is falling. I hop out of bed, inspired by what I fell asleep reading last night.
Throwing on a clean pair of sweats, I yank on my aunt's boots, which are a bit tight but comfortable enough, and her long puffy winter coat that I found packed away in a box before shuffling out into the snow.
I close my eyes and lift my hands, immediately feeling the flakes swirl around them as I repeat the brief incantation I memorized last night. Opening my eyes, I smile as I watch the flakes dance around me as if to something melodic.
Laughing, I spin as more and more flakes join me until I have my own personal snowstorm swirling around my body. I lift my face to the cloudy sky. I have not felt this alive in years.
An urge comes over me. I allow the snow to fall to the ground in a heap and run back into the house. I find my phone on the counter and quickly open the email app. Within minutes, I have an email written to my apartment complex telling them I'll be moving out in two days.
Ravenhart Mountain is my new home.