Fierce Mountain Man (Seduction Summit Lumberjacks #6)

Chapter 1

1

EMMY

C onstruction Zone. Keep Out.

The sign wasn’t exactly inviting. But I hadn’t been invited here, so I couldn’t complain.

I stepped around the plastic barricade and crossed my arms over my chest to shut out the cold. This enclave, which would go by the name The Shoppes at Brighton Village, was where my bakery would be. Somewhere in this mess of framed buildings and rubble on the ground, my dreams would come true.

Emma’s Bakery.

Yeah, not very creative. I’d have to work on that.

Visualize what you want. I’d heard a couple of the other contestants talking about that the first day we’d arrived. They didn’t know I was one of the bakers, but I was sitting by the window in the lobby of the Seduction Summit Ski Lodge, staring at a laptop. They were all bonding on the couches by the fireplace, and I’d overheard them talking about how they wanted to start up bakeries, so I eavesdropped.

Hopefully, none of them had their sights set on Seduction Summit. This was my territory.

Crunch, crunch.

I continued walking, stepping on debris and wood shavings from the work they’d been doing earlier that day. It was late—after eight o’clock. I’d skipped out on the invitation to meet everyone in the lobby and head down to get burgers at Rosie’s Diner. Instead, I ordered room service and ate alone, then drove down the mountain to check out how I’d spend the fifty thousand dollars I’d won today.

Crunch, crunch.

I was visualizing it now. As I walked, I pictured a charming pink storefront with a big sign. It would be classy and elegant to match the rest of the stores that would eventually populate The Shoppes at Brighton Village.

The town would probably have rules against things like neon, but I wouldn’t need it back here, anyway. They’d have to light up the whole area for tourists to be able to see where they were going at night. The fact that I couldn’t see a damn thing right now, even with the moon shining down, only proved that point.

Crunch, crunch.

There’d be little bistro tables all around, like in a European café. It would also need to have some sort of coffee shop where people could grab a cup of coffee, and of course, they’d need a slice of cake or pie to go with it. I’d make apple fritters for breakfast to catch tourists who came out early to grab a latte or chai tea from the coffee shop. Or maybe danishes and eclairs. There were all kinds of possibilities in a town with zero standalone dessert options.

A smile spread across my face, but it quickly froze, as did the rest of me. A sharp pain was shooting through my right foot.

Holy hell, that hurt. Was it a cramp? Was something in my shoe? No, I’d been walking just fine, although ballet flats probably weren’t the best choice for wandering around a construction zone after dark.

I started to pull my phone out of my back pocket, but the pain was too severe. I lifted my foot out of my shoe, and that was when I saw the blood.

I let out a scream that could probably be heard for miles. But no one was around to hear me. No one was around to help me, either. I was stuck with an injury to my right foot and a nail sticking through the bottom of my shoe.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be in here.”

Thirty seconds ago, that male voice would have annoyed the hell out of me, but right now, it was music to my ears. I breathed a sigh of relief and turned, holding up my shoe, the nail still sticking out of the bottom.

All I could see up ahead, standing near the barricade I’d crossed, was the hulking form of a very large man. A mountain man. A lumberjack. A logger. I’d heard the guys around here called all three. This guy might not be a lumberjack or a logger, though. If he was in charge of this construction site, wouldn’t that make him some kind of construction worker?

“I stepped on a nail,” I said.

At least I assumed it was a nail. It sure looked like it. I should pull it out of my shoe, but meanwhile, my right foot was perched on top of my left, just so I didn’t have to set it on the ground. The ground was covered in mess, and the last thing I needed was an infection.

“I’m bleeding. I think I’m hurt. Should I call an ambulance?”

I was asking some stranger that question. Some faceless stranger at that. I couldn’t even tell if he was friendly or mean.

“Stay right there,” he said.

Crunch, crunch.

He was walking toward me. What if he stepped on a nail too? No, he probably had the right shoes for this. Only a moron wandered into a construction site in ballet flats.

“Did it break the skin?” he asked.

I looked up at him. He was closer now, and my plan had been to answer his question, but instead, I was staring at him—gaping, really. Gaping like I’d never seen a big guy with movie-star good looks. He had a face that combined handsomeness and ruggedness in a way that was almost too good to be believed.

“Looks like it,” I said. “I’m bleeding like crazy over here.”

After the words were out, the embarrassment hit me. I was bleeding all over my left shoe in front of a gorgeous guy. Way to make a good first impression.

It didn’t matter, though. I wasn’t dating. Not until I got my business going.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

I’d expected him to be a little squeamish at the sight of blood. But maybe he couldn’t see it—it was dark, after all, and my foot was on top of my black flat. Or maybe a little blood didn’t bother a guy like him. Most of the men around here were former military. I’d swear someone had said that. Military guys could deal with a little blood. Or a lot of blood, in this case.

“I don’t think I should put my foot down on this,” I said. “If it’s an open wound, won’t it get infected? Maybe I could take the nail out of my shoe and slide my foot back inside.”

Did I expect him to be a medic? For all I knew, he was just passing by and heard me scream. In fact, that was very likely what had happened. He might not even be associated with this construction site.

“Hold your purse in front of you,” he said.

“What?” I stared at him, blinking several times.

“Trust me.”

Trust him? I didn’t even know his name. How could he expect me to trust him?

The truth was, I didn’t have much choice. I could stand here and bleed all over my shoe, try to limp out of here, or trust this guy. Trusting him was the most appealing option.

I moved my purse in front of me, still keeping the strap over my shoulder, of course. “Okay.”

He came toward me, and my heart started pounding. It was hammering against my chest so hard I was sure he could hear it.

Was he going to kiss me? It was a ridiculous thought. Okay, part of me was sure he was going to wrap his arms around me and pull me against him, giving me the kiss of my life.

But instead, he came around to my side and scooped me up, holding me against his chest. He was carrying me out of here.

Holy shit. I was being carried out of a construction zone by a hot mountain man. Even if I’d tried to visualize this, it wouldn’t have felt like this. His strong arms around me. His muscular chest making me feel safe.

Maybe putting romance on hold for business wasn’t a good idea, after all. A guy like this might make it worth breaking my rules.