Burning for the Mountain Man (Whispered Echoes Season 2: A Wounded Mountain Man #10)
Chapter 1
SAGE
Wildwood Valley, North Carolina, was colder than I’d bargained for.
Sure, it was November and the mountains were involved, but I’d packed long-sleeved tops and a jacket I considered “adequate.” Now I was reconsidering life choices. A coat might have been smart. A parka? Maybe. A wool blanket and a thermos of hot chocolate IV drip? Possibly overkill.
Stepping into the lobby of the Wildwood Valley Inn was like walking into a warm hug from someone you actually liked.
I could almost picture convincing Sienna to drag her new boyfriend here.
There was a diner across the street and a pancake place next door.
If this mysterious man who had somehow wormed his way into her life in a matter of weeks was a real gentleman, he’d whisk us around town like royalty.
At the very least, he wouldn’t complain about being our driver.
“Welcome to Wildwood Valley Inn!” chirped a woman with a silver bob and green glasses so bright they practically glowed.
She looked happy to see me in that small-town way I knew from growing up in Georgia. But Wildwood Valley had charm—real charm—the kind that made you half-expect everyone to carry around mugs with whipped cream that never melted like in those cable Christmas romcoms.
“I have a reservation,” I said, stepping up to the desk.
“Of course you do,” she said. “But you’d stay here anyway.”
Then she threw her head back and laughed like she'd just heard the best joke in the world. I couldn’t help but laugh too. Her personality was contagious.
“I’m Bobbi,” she said. “I own this place. And you must be Sage.”
I tilted my head. “How did you know?”
Yes, I had a reservation. But the parking lot was full. Did she have psychic powers? I needed coffee before dealing with that level of small-town magic.
“That’s my job,” Bobbi said. “Your room is ready.”
She winked as she handed me a key card and pointed toward the elevator. I ignored her directions and made a beeline for the stairs. I needed the exercise after that long drive.
The plan was simple. Get to the room, text Sienna that I’d arrived, and continue to ignore her offer to bunk with her and her boyfriend.
That would have been…an emotional minefield.
Sleeping in the same cabin as a happy couple when your love life consisted of sporadic texts from guys who probably thought “hey” counted as meaningful conversation? No, thank you.
The bed called to me as I swiped my key card. Pillows, mattress…glorious nap. My aching body agreed enthusiastically—thank you, long drive.
Then the chill hit.
I dropped my overnight bag onto the luggage stand and looked around. It wasn’t subtle. The room was colder than it had any right to be. Even climbing the stairs hadn't warmed me enough for this arctic assault.
Thermostat hunt—engaged. But my expectations dropped when I saw the numbers. Seventy-four degrees. Really? A lie. Either the thermostat was broken or the room was haunted by a miniature winter storm. No wall heater, no radiator—just the audacity of cold air.
I eyed the landline next to the bed like it might have secret instructions for summoning fire. Dial zero, it read. I did.
“Front desk, how may I help you?” chirped Bobbi, her voice annoyingly cheerful.
“I think the heat’s broken,” I said.
I immediately regretted the words “I think.” Confidence, Sage. You’re trying to project confidence.
“I mean,” I corrected, “the heat is off. It has to be fifty degrees in here. Can someone—please—look at it?”
Silence. I could practically feel snow settling on my shoulders.
“Oh my,” Bobbi said. “We have a guy in town that fixes that. I’ll call him. Might be a half-hour or so. Sit tight!”
And just like that, she was gone, leaving me with a dead line and trembling hands. I glanced at the bed. Climbing in would be futile. I’d need armor—an army of blankets and a hot water bottle shaped like a dragon. Or…
The shower became my sanctuary. Hot water, steam, blissful warmth. I luxuriated, washing away the chill—and also my general life malaise. But eventually, boredom crept in. I had the attention span of a caffeinated squirrel. Waiting thirty minutes for a repairman? Unacceptable. I needed action.
I shut off the faucets, wrapped a towel around me, and braced for the tundra that awaited on the other side of the bathroom door. My clothes were on the other side too, clean but currently useless. Mind over matter, Sage. Mind over matter.
I turned the handle and stepped out, steam billowing around me like I was some kind of mystical forest goddess. Which was a nice thought until reality hit—I was wearing nothing but a towel in a room that could double as a meat locker.
The door beeped, then clicked.
I froze. Someone was coming into my room. My heart hammered against my ribs as the door swung open, revealing a man with a toolbox who looked like he'd stepped straight out of a lumberjack fantasy.
Broad shoulders filled the doorframe. Dark hair, slightly tousled. A jaw that could cut glass. And eyes—God, those eyes—that locked onto mine and didn't look away.
We stared at each other.
He was gorgeous in that rugged, outdoorsy way that made my knees forget how to function. Flannel shirt rolled up to reveal strong forearms. Work boots that had seen actual work. The kind of man who probably chopped wood for fun and could fix anything with his bare hands.
And he was staring at me like I'd just materialized from thin air.
“Don’t you knock?” I managed to squeak, clutching my towel like it was body armor.
His eyebrows pulled together, creating a scowl that somehow made him even more attractive. "I did knock." His voice was low, gravelly, with just a hint of irritation. "Three times. When nobody answered, I figured the room was empty."
"Well, it's not empty," I said, stating the obvious while my brain scrambled to form coherent thoughts. "I'm in it."
"Yeah." His gaze flickered down, then back up to my face. "I can see that."
Warmth that had nothing to do with the broken heater crawled up my neck. This was not how I'd planned to meet anyone in Wildwood Valley. Especially not someone who looked like he could bench press a truck.
"Are you here about the heat?" I asked, because standing here half-naked wasn't awkward enough.
He held up the toolbox like evidence. "Heard the heat's out."
"Right. Yes. Fix it. Please." I took a step back, remembering I needed clothes. Real clothes. Not just terry cloth and hope. "I'll just—" I gestured toward my overnight bag sitting on the luggage stand. "Give me two seconds."
I grabbed the bag and practically sprinted back to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. My reflection stared back at me, flushed and wild-eyed.
Get it together, Sage.
I could hear him moving around in the room, the sound of tools clinking. At least he was actually working and not just standing there being distractingly handsome.
I yanked on jeans and a sweater, finger-combed my wet hair, and took a deep breath. Time to face the music—and the most gorgeous repairman in North Carolina.