Chapter 9
9
MILES
D uring the short walk to where Aspen stood in the middle of the street, smiling as if in awe of our small community setup, I studied every detail, unable to look away from the woman. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a high ponytail that swished as she spun in a slow circle, taking in every inch of her surroundings. Scanning her face, I couldn’t help the burst of worry that had me pressing my lips into a tight line at the visible purple circles under both of her large eyes. Her fair, smooth skin made the dark smudges even more prominent.
Even exhausted from the lack of sleep, she was breathtakingly gorgeous. Her beauty was natural, effortless, and even though she was overwhelmed the night before, she looked at peace, or at least comfortable with herself. Confidence radiated off her.
That alone was captivating to me. I never put emphasis or focus on how someone made themselves appear to the world, but instead, I concentrated on the core of who they really were. It was crazy how the world could claim certain women were beautiful and flawless despite the constant malice that came through in social media or the news.
As we approached, Aspen’s lids slowly fluttered closed, her chest rising with a deep inhale that turned into a wide yawn, which she tried to cover with a loose fist. The urge to fix the problem for her, to protect her from the exhaustion clearly weighing on her, made my fingers twitch at my side, eager to do something immediately. Though not even I could control or change the tilt of Earth this time of year.
An idea wormed into my thoughts, refusing to let go of a way to take care of two of the problems that I needed to solve. Almost to where she waited for us, smiling and waving at having noticed our approach, I cleared my throat to get Aiden’s attention.
“I bet Caroline has an eye mask in her cabin that she wouldn’t mind loaning to Aspen. You know none of the stores in town will have one.”
Aiden’s brows furrowed, a deep line forming between them before shooting up his head, no doubt reading between the lines on why I suggested Caroline and not the other women in our community. “Oh, yeah. Right, right. No stores will carry what she needs. You’re right about that. We should totally go break into her cabin—I mean pop by her place to see if she has one. If the cabin is locked, you can always accidentally run that battering ram you call a shoulder into the door.”
A huffed laugh escaped. “Or I could use the key we both know she keeps stashed beneath that ugly-ass stone frog she painted while drunk on cheap wine after book club that one night.”
“Or that. But then you wouldn’t be able to impress the pretty lady.” He gestured toward Aspen, who started to close the distance, walking beside the borrowed bicycle from The Nest.
Barking a laugh that had the corners of Aspen’s lips curl upward, I shoved my friend, making him stumble to the side.
“This is really where you call home?” she asked, gesturing around us with one hand.
Starting at her broken-in hiking boots, I trailed my gaze up her cuffed, loose, water-resistant pants to her tight white tank top worn under a thick cotton red-and-black-plaid long-sleeved shirt that she’d left unbuttoned. Fingers wrapped around the edges of the cuffs, she shot us a hesitant smile.
“We do. Amazing, right?” She nodded, her ponytail swinging with the quick movement. “You found us okay?” Aiden asked, shoving both hands into the front pockets of his jeans and rocking back on his heels. His smile was so damn wide I could see every one of his straight teeth.
She looked at me. “The directions were very… detailed. Thank you. I even appreciated the suggestions on what to wear for today’s weather.”
Aiden laughed at that while I just dipped my chin in acknowledgment. At least she appreciated it and didn’t find it too overbearing, considering I hadn’t even known her for twenty-four hours but had given her outfit suggestions.
“It was a beautiful ride here.” Leaning the bike against her hip, she dug into her satchel, pulling out her massive, expensive-looking camera. Pressing a button, she waited a second before turning the screen our way. “I stopped a few times to grab some amazing shots of the peaks in the distance. The lighting was perfection.”
After flicking through several of the thumbnail-size photos, Aspen lowered the camera and once again turned her attention to our little town.
“There are a lot of houses.” She gestured to the rows of cabins set just off the road for a short walkway and mini lawn. “Does everyone who works for Uplift live here?”
“Yes and no. We all live here, but there are a few vacant cabins. Most are one-bedroom, but there are a few two- and three-bedrooms. Brandon built twenty, hoping the company would grow and need more help. It makes things easier if we’re all in one place with the machines and gear. Plus, we’re all transplants, so it gives us a sense of family, a community.” With zero hesitation, Aiden tossed his arm over Aspen’s shoulders, turning them and pointing to the building set at the end of the road. “That’s our general store. Brandon’s partners run that while he manages the company itself. We’re almost fully self-sustaining regarding food.” She nodded along, following where he pointed, fully engrossed in his explanation. “We like to use our solar-powered generators as much as possible, though that only works during the summer, since our nights are super long in the winter. We switch to the propane-powered one in the winter if needed, though that’s only if the lines from town are down. Plus, we have greenhouses for produce and livestock for milk and meat.”
“Wow,” she breathed. “This is way beyond what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” I asked, my voice a low rumble, which drew Aspen’s attention over her shoulder to where I stood.
“I think one of you mentioned small cabins, or maybe I just inferred that based on something else you said.” She gestured to the cabin to our right, which was Baylee’s before she moved in with Liam. “That right there is bigger than my apartment back in Seattle, not that it was anything to brag about. And you both failed to mention that they aren’t rustic or tossed-together log homes. These cottages are right out of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine and are fucking precious. Add in how this whole place is laid out, giving some privacy, and it’s like a perfect small town designed for a TV show.”
Turning all the way around, she smacked a hand to my pec with an eye roll. “You really should’ve prepared me better for all this adorableness.”
I didn’t process her words, too wrapped up in staring at the place she touched. Most strangers—hell, most people —were too scared of my size and stern demeanor to get close to me, let alone hit me. My heart swelled with hope. Aspen wasn’t scared of me, which emphasized what she mentioned last night. She felt safe with me, and the way she molded against me when I yanked her into the random hug said those weren’t just empty words. She truly felt safe with me.
“It is pretty amazing,” Aiden said after a few seconds of studying her, then me with a wide smile. I flipped him the bird at his fucking meddling. “You should see the inside of the cabins. They’re set up so each person has their own space, no matter how many rooms. Each has a large living area, a wood-burning fireplace, and basic kitchen. Most of us normally hang out on the porches when we’re not working so we can visit with everyone.”
“Adorable. So adorable.” Just as she started to say something else, a flash of red and brown scurried across the street. It paused and poked its little head up to check us out before darting off up the steps of Baylee’s cabin. “What. Was. That?” Her high, excited pitch had me wincing and fighting the urge to rub at my ears.
“BamBam.” Aspen turned her big brown eyes my way, confusion swirling in their depths. “That was BamBam.” I pointed in the direction the lithe animal ran. “She’s an ermine.”
Aspen’s jaw dropped, opening her mouth wide. Snapping it shut, she mouthed the word over and over.
“I think you broke her,” Aiden whispered loudly behind his hand while poking a single finger against Aspen’s cheek.
Snapping out of it, she batted away his touch with both hands. “Forgive me if I’m in a bit of shock. I’m fairly certain somewhere along the bike ride, I fell off, sustained a concussion, and am now seeing things. Or I’m in a coma, dreaming that I’m in a damn Disney movie, because what the hell? Who has cute cottages in a remote village with tiny woodland creatures running amok?”
Aiden and I exchanged a worried and confused look. Fuck, maybe I did break her. Who knew explaining a slightly domesticated color-changing weasel would be the thing to push her over the edge into insanity? For most people, it would’ve been when we explained we lived with a whole community that enjoyed the poly lifestyle. For Aspen, it seemed the “adorableness factor” here was the breaking point.
She spun in a circle, gaze bouncing. “So, how do I do this? Should I sing to draw in the birds to land on my outstretched arms while I prance down the street with the little woodland creatures following me, ready to do my bidding?”
“If that’s what you want to do…” Aiden trailed off, uncertain if that was the right response. “I’m not aware of a bird that will come to you on command without being trained, but you do you.”
“Wait, no, I need a picture.” She reached into her satchel where she’d stashed her camera but stopped. “This is real, right?” Reaching out, she pinched my forearm. Well, she tried to, but I flexed, making the skin taut. With a frustrated noise, she whirled around to the unsuspecting Aiden and pinched his arm instead. He yelped and jumped away from the attack, rubbing at the spot she barely touched.
“I think you’re supposed to pinch yourself to find out if you’re dreaming or not.” I swallowed down the laughter and rubbed at my lips to shield my smile from the pouting Aiden.
“How dare you laugh at your best friend’s injury.”
I rolled my eyes. “No more pinching assaults needed, Aspen. This place is real. You are not dreaming or in a coma, nor do you have a concussion. BamBam is a rescue of sorts and runs around like she owns the place, begging for food from anyone she’s familiar with. Our resident veterinarian, Baylee, found her injured as a baby and nursed her back to health. Baylee tried to set her free once she was healed, but BamBam kept finding her way back here. She now prefers to eat food given to her rather than hunt and scavenge.”
As I spoke, Aspen’s smile grew in utter wonder and excitement, causing fine lines to burst around the corners. My breath stalled, my heart thumping hard in my chest as I took in every inch of her beautiful smile. Our gazes locked, making everything around us fall away. For someone who was always acutely aware of his surroundings, even when asleep, it was unnerving and amazing at the same time. It felt like I could finally take a full breath after barely breathing enough to stay alive for far too long.
“Come on.” Aiden lightly grasped Aspen’s elbow. “We can show you our place before we head over to the gear storage to shuffle through the supplies for the hike and?—”
“Don’t forget about the eye mask,” I muttered, slipping both hands into the front pockets of my jeans, suddenly self-conscious.
“You remembered?” Aspen turned to walk backward to face where I trailed behind her and Aiden, who pushed the borrowed bike beside him.
“Be careful,” I almost snapped, worry making my tone harsher than I wanted. “You could trip.” Rolling her eyes, she flipped back around. “And yes, of course I remembered. I plan to stop by a friend’s place to see if she has one lying around for you to borrow.”
Stop by, break in… all the same thing.
As we slowly meandered toward our place, the two of them, mostly Aiden, talked nonstop. Smiling to myself at their conversation, I took in our town with new appreciation after Aspen’s awe and astonishment at the homestead Brandon built for us. I knew it was special, but after a few years, the newness wore off until she reminded me how extraordinary this place really was.
“This is us,” Aiden said, pausing in front of our porch steps. At his gesture toward the white-painted cabin, I watched Aspen, studying her face for insight into her thoughts about the place we called home.
It wasn’t much in the way of size, a simple two-bedroom cabin that neither Aiden nor I took time to personalize to our tastes, so it looked like all the others lining either side of the road. The composite siding and trim were well maintained. We all pitched in every other year to keep the paint fresh and helped with other maintenance chores. Three sturdy wooden steps led up to the treated wood porch—so the snow and rain didn’t rot it year after year—which spanned the entire front of the cabin. To the right was a single three-person swing that swayed slightly in the light breeze while two plastic chairs sat just off to the side with a tiny table between them. That spot was where Aiden and I spent most nights so we could take in the mountains we hiked and rode daily, plus visit with the others in the community as they trickled in from various outings.
Aspen leapt up the steps, heading directly for the swing, where she tentatively sat down. The chains groaned when she relaxed back and pushed off the wooden porch with the heel of her hiking boot. As she rocked back and forth, Aspen’s wide smile from earlier softened into one of relaxed contentment, and her lids fluttered shut with a sigh.
“Do you guys have any idea how lucky you are to live here?” Slowly, her lids blinked open. She shifted to stretch both arms along the back of the swing, which only drew our attention to the way her tank top pulled across her chest. “That view every day.” She pointed to the mountains. “A community that accepts you, and cute wild animals running around everywhere.” I moved up to the porch, needing to be closer to the woman consuming my thoughts. The wood groaned beneath my weight, though she didn’t shift her awe-filled gaze from the distant snow-covered peaks. “This place is paradise.”
“You say that now.” Arms crossed over my chest, I leaned against the side of the cabin. “You might think differently when winter comes around and it’s constantly dark and bitter cold, with snow piled higher than the roofs.”
“I bet Jubie loves it,” she remarked, eyeing the front door, following the sounds of said dog’s loud barks. “And you know, I’m almost certain I would, too, despite everything you just mentioned. Growing up, I loved the heavy winter months in Utah. I know it would be a different extreme of cold and volume of snowfall here, but still. There’s something about the cold and snow that is utterly peaceful and makes all the stress in life seem to pause while you watch the flakes softly fall. Give me a warm blanket, a good cup of coffee, and this scenery… I’d probably grow roots where I sat, I’d be there so long.”
Louder, more pitiful barks plus frantic scratching from inside the cabin had me rolling my eyes. Jubie knew we were out here and was no doubt excited to see her new friend again.
Dipping inside my pocket, I dug out the cabin keys and headed for the front door, where an impatient Jubie waited. I barely had the door open a couple of inches before the big bundle of fur wedged her way into the opening with her thick head and bounded out with happy yips. Hopping and spinning in crazy circles, making all of us laugh at her antics, Jubie rubbed against my thigh before running over to where Aspen waited for her turn with the jolly animal.
“Well, hello there, beautiful girl,” Aspen cooed while scratching behind Jubie’s floppy ears. “I missed you last night.” Peeking up from beneath her lashes, she shot me a hopeful expression. “What are the odds that I could convince you to let me borrow Jubie for a sleepover?”
“Or you could sleep over?—”
The back of my hand slammed against the center of Aiden’s chest, cutting off his next words. He shot me an annoyed look, sticking out his tongue like the adult child he acted like most days.
“I’m almost positive The Nest frowns on dogs larger than most children, who leave drool marks everywhere?—”
Aspen gasped and covered Jubie’s ears. “Don’t let her hear you. She can’t help her extra saliva condition.”
Smirking, I shook my head while rubbing at my jaw. “And sheds half her body weight on a daily basis. At least, that’s what it feels like, considering how often I have to sweep our place.” I nodded to the smiling dog, who currently had shoestring-like drool coming from either side of her mouth. “And don’t worry about Jubie. She is aware of her drooling problem and fully accepts it. Even enjoys leaving little drool love puddles everywhere she goes to let us know she was there.”
“Want to see the inside?” Aiden asked, already moving to the door.
Aspen nodded just as her stomach released a loud growl.
“Have you eaten?” I asked, my mind already itemizing what we had in the fridge and pantry.
“Yes and no.” Aspen slowly stood from the swing and stepped around Jubie. “I had a granola bar when I woke up, but don’t worry about me. I’ll figure something out after we’re done here.” I eyed her as she walked past me with a wide, unconvincing smile and slipped into the cabin behind Aiden.
A granola bar? That wouldn’t do at all. Aspen was hungry, and I now had an objective I could fix. Needing to resolve the issue before heading to Caroline’s for the eye mask, I followed them inside the cabin, steering straight for the kitchen.
Even though Aspen wasn’t mine—ours—I couldn’t stand back and not take care of her as if she was. And maybe if she saw how good it could be with us, having someone focused on her health and safety, she’d stay.
With us.
And officially be ours.