Don’t Want to Fall (Mountain Men of Cinnamon Creek #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Devin

“No social media until we board the plane home,” Alanna, the maid of honor, insists. Well, ex-maid of honor considering the wedding’s been called off. She’s eyeing me, of course, because I’m the one breaking the rules.

“I swear this has nothing to do with our trip,” I tell her as our shuttle van pulls into the parking lot of the mountain hotel we’ll be staying at for the weekend.

The original plan was Cancun, when this was still a celebration. But when that all went up in smoke earlier this morning, Alanna called in a last-minute favor with her brother for the five of us to stay at his lodge in Montana.

I glance at Erin, the ex-bride-to-be, sitting in the seat in front of me, her head resting against the window.

Since we left the Omaha airport earlier, she’s worn this mixed expression that’s both calm and zoned out.

She hasn’t cried, but she also hasn’t spoken more than ten words.

As a nurse, I’ve seen all types of reactions to shock.

My guess? Erin has shut down because the situation overloaded her nervous system.

Can’t blame her. I’d be numb too if the man I was supposed to marry cheated on me with my stepsister.

Just…gross.

Hopefully this weekend away in the mountains will help her start the healing process before she has to return to reality and deal with the shitstorm sure to follow calling off her own wedding.

I make a mental note to send her some book recommendations before we head home Sunday, if only so she has the fictional escapes on standby.

It’s a language we both speak. We met at a book club two years ago and became instant friends because of our mutual, slightly unhealthy, obsession with morally gray men.

More than that, I’m hoping this time away will help me figure out what I’m going to do with my life since I got unceremoniously fired three days ago.

Fucking men.

Correction: fucking boys.

I’ve read enough romance novels to know that a man in his healthy masculine is a night and day difference from a self-absorbed boy who wouldn’t understand following through on a commitment if it bit him in the ass with razor-sharp puppy teeth.

In hindsight, I knew the risk I was taking going out on a date with a patient. But that doesn’t excuse the asshole for dining and dashing on said date. My bank account is a hundred and twelve dollars emptier thanks to Jerek with J.

And it was just my luck that my Director of Nursing was in the same restaurant and recognized him before he pulled a Houdini.

“Can we all agree?” Alanna announces to the group of women in the van as it pulls up to the entrance of a log cabin style lodge.

It’s hard to make out the details in the dark, but from what I can see in the glow of streetlights, it looks very fitting for a mountain town.

It’s all toasted marshmallow colored logs, green metal roof, and dashes of fall flowers in hanging pots.

I bet it’s a sight to behold in the morning sunlight.

“No social media until after the trip,” Stormi, the ex-bride-to-be’s sister, agrees.

“We don’t need to tip that bitch off,” Gabby, a cousin of Erin’s, proclaims. If she had it her way, we’d be in Vegas right now dumping Chad’s body in the desert. It’s not a terrible idea, but I do like my life outside of a prison cell. Even if my current situation sucks more than a little bit.

Alanna is still glaring at me, so I click my screen off and stuff my phone in my pocket. I’ll finish my post once we’re all checked in.

“Whoa, this place is magical,” Stormi coos as the group migrates toward the front sliding glass doors of the Cinnamon Creek Lodge. All except Alanna, who hangs back by the shuttle.

This trip will be good.

I’m sure of it.

Seriously. How could anything go wrong in a town named Cinnamon Creek?

It’s as though we’ve been transported into a Hallmark movie. Maybe there’s even a hunky hero for each one of us, because that’s definitely how a movie like this would work. I could really go for a nice, rugged mountain man about now.

I should hate men after my string of bad luck with them.

Jerek with a J is just the most recent disaster of an embarrassingly long series of mistakes.

And while I’m ready to slam on the brakes when it comes to finding a future husband, I’m still a woman who enjoys a real-life cock from time to time.

Since we’re on a vacation, I think it’d only be punishment to myself if I ruled out a nice spicy fling with a small town, flannel-wearing man. Preferably one with a beard. Oh, and tattoos.

“Devin?” Gabby looks at me expectantly, then glances at the elderly woman behind the check-in counter.

“Yeah?”

“I just need your ID to get you checked into your room,” the older woman—Winnie her name tag reads—says to me, a patient smile spread across her slightly wrinkled lips. As though she has nowhere else in the world to be but right here attending to us.

She gives off grandma vibes. It both warms me and makes me miss my own who passed a few years ago. Because it might be weird to round the counter and hug a complete stranger, I focus instead on the group of women I came with.

Gabby and Stormi look antsy.

Erin looks…ready to drop.

“Where’s Alanna?” I ask, fishing my driver’s license out of my purse and handing it over.

“Outside,” Stormi nods toward the door.

I catch a glimpse of Alanna animatedly talking to a flannel-wearing, bearded man—aha, I was right!

She appears irritated, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t climb him like a tree given a chance.

Maybe that would do her some good, actually.

She’s been pretty high strung since we all met at the Omaha airport this morning.

“You’re in room thirteen,” Winnie says, sliding me an old-fashioned key attached to a moose keychain.

“You have a room thirteen?” I ask, surprised.

“We don’t believe in negative superstitions here. Thirteen is considered good luck in our lodge.”

“I could use some good luck,” I mumble under my breath.

When Stormi, Gabby, and Erin head upstairs to their rooms, I see this as my opportunity to finish my post on Facebook.

It’s not breaking the rules because this has nothing to do with the bachelorette weekend and everything to do with making sure Jerek with a J doesn’t scam another unsuspecting woman.

I navigate to my local Are We Dating the Same Guy group that I’ve become too frequent a poster in these past few months and select the picture I took of him before I joined the man child at the table of a too-fancy restaurant.

I wanted visual evidence on my phone in case he turned out to be a serial killer.

Turns out, he was just a douche canoe.

As I begin drafting my caption, the automatic sliding doors part, and Alanna marches in.

Shit.

I turn my back to her, pretending to focus on the brochure wall as I quickly type out my warning and hit post.

“Devin?” Alanna calls to me, like a teacher catching a student goofing off when they’re supposed to be taking a test. Yeah, she needs to get laid. Bad.

I yank out a flyer directly in front of me and use it to cover the phone in my palm. “Yeah?”

“Are you coming?”

“I just want to check out this—” I glance at the flyer in my hand. “—wildlife excursion. I’ll be right up.”

“We’re meeting in Erin’s room in five minutes,” she says. “Don’t be late.”

“I’m not Gabby,” I remind her.

Alanna doesn’t even crack a smile. I wouldn’t describe her as bitchy, but she gets stressed when things don’t go as planned.

I imagine she’s a little mentally overloaded with all the last-minute switching of plans, especially after she so meticulously organized the Cancun weekend, down to the minute.

Though I have enjoyed getting to know Alanna throughout the wedding planning most days, I’m secretly thrilled about the unexpectedly open-ended itinerary. The last thing I need is a ton of pressure to have mandatory fun.

“I’ll see you upstairs.”

“Are you interested in the wildlife excursion?” Winnie asks after Alanna flies up the staircase.

“No,” I say suddenly, my gaze dropping to the flyer with a giant bull moose on the cover.

Those antlers look big enough to scoop a full-sized human up and give them a ride.

I can’t decide if that would be fun or terrifying.

Either way, it’d be more action than I’ve seen in my personal life in a while. “I mean, maybe…”

“There’s a tour tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I glance at the staircase, wondering how pissed Alanna would be if I made my own plans.

I can’t imagine the five of us are going to be doing a lot of group activities.

If I had to make a guess, I’d wager that Erin ends up locked in her lodge room stuffing her face with sweets as she binge-reads romances—or maybe murder mysteries.

“Just one spot left,” Winnie adds. “Do you want me to book you on it?”

Though I feel a little guilty for excluding the others, it might be nice not to feel as though Alanna’s policing my every move. I can just hear her after every picture I take. Don’t post that to social media. Remember the rules!

I glance back at the brochure, making eye contact with Bowinkle. Seeing a moose has been on my bucket list since I was a kid. So have many other things, but this feels like one I could actually cross off. Right now, I could use all the positive life momentum I can get.

“You know what? Yes. Sign me up, Winnie.”

“I think you’ll really enjoy it,” Winnie adds, focusing on her computer screen.

“If you could throw in a nice, hunky, single tour guide, that would be amazing.”

Winnie’s eyes sparkle with amusement as she finishes up the booking. “Okay, you’re all set. Flynn will be here at seven tomorrow morning to pick you up.”

“Seven?” I ask, fighting a yawn and losing. My eyes water from the battle.

“The best time to see wildlife is that dusky time right before sunrise or sunset.”

“Guess I better get some sleep.”

“It’ll be worth it,” Winnie promises.

As I turn toward the staircase, I dare to hope she’s right.