2. Dane
2
DANE
I stride through the towering trees, hauling a sack of wood over my shoulder. I spent the whole morning clearing branches, felling dead wood that didn’t make it through the winter, and salvaging the usable parts. It’s a big job, and sweat pricks at my skin, soaking through my flannel shirt as I head back to my cabin for a shower and some lunch.
The first hints of summer hang in the air like a promise. Overhead, sunlight filters through the leaves, turning everything vivid and golden. The soft breeze is warm against my skin, and it’s a damn relief after all those months of snow. Cold air always makes my scars burn, like knives slicing into my face. I sure as hell won’t miss that.
As I keep walking, I spy one of my rental cabins in the distance, giving it a wide berth in case there’s anybody outside. My brother Weston and I own six rentals between us, dotted around Cherry Mountain. It’s a neat setup. Guests book online and receive an automated email with the code to the key lockbox outside. Then we get a cleaner in between guests to tidy everything up. No hosting or face-to-face contact necessary, which suits me just fine. I hate dealing with people. When you look like me, the flinches and double takes get pretty fucking tiresome after a while.
I don’t blame people for noticing my scars. Hell, they’re pretty hard to miss. The ragged tissue takes up the right side of my face, so it’s the first thing people see. But that doesn’t mean I have to like the stares. I hate the feeling of being watched, hostile eyes boring into me. Makes me feel like I’m back in the Army, scouting enemy territory, knowing there could be a sniper trained on me, ready to shoot at any second…
Goddammit.
You’re not there anymore, Dane.
But sometimes, it’s hard for my brain to remember that. And the looks I get when people see my scars are a constant reminder of what happened. It’s why I stick to the woods, minding my own business. My brother lives nearby, but apart from him, I keep to myself. That’s how I like things. Just me and the forest—the creaking branches, the twittering birds, the wilderness stretching for miles around me. It’s all I need.
Eventually, I see my cabin in the distance, and I hop over the familiar winding creek before pushing open the front door. I set the bag of logs down in the corner and head for the bathroom, peeling the damp clothes from my skin. I’m just reaching up to turn on the water when I hear a knock at the door, and I turn toward the noise with a frown.
Who the hell could that be?
I don’t get visitors. My cabin is deep in the woods, and nobody comes here except Weston. But my brother never shows up unexpectedly, and he’s been so wrapped up in his new girlfriend lately that I haven’t seen him for a couple of weeks.
As much as I’d love to pretend I didn’t hear the knock, I can’t. Out here, if someone comes knocking, you answer. You have to. It’s not like a house in the suburbs, where a knock at the door is a delivery guy or Girl Scouts selling cookies. Out here, a knock could be an injured hiker or somebody looking for shelter from a stalking bear. The difference between life and death. In the wilderness, you answer the door because the alternative is worse.
Doesn’t mean I’m fucking happy about it, though.
I reach for my boxers, about to pull them back on, when I hear another sound. The creak of my front door swinging open.
Someone is inside my house.
My shoulders tense and instinct takes over. A knock on the door is one thing, but now there’s a stranger trespassing on my property. With a burst of adrenaline, I rush out of the bathroom and down the hall, throwing open the door to the living room.
It takes me a second to process what I’m seeing. My thoughts turn fuzzy, my heart pounding as I look at the young woman standing in front of me. Her mouth hangs open, eyes wide with shock as she staggers back slightly. The large suitcase in her hand drops to the floor with a thud, the sound echoing around the room as we stare at each other.
Holy shit.
She’s beautiful. Long blonde hair falls past her shoulders in waves, haloing a heart-shaped face that’s almost too perfect to be real. She blinks at me with eyes like a summer sky, cheeks blushing, her pillowy lips parted. My gaze slides to her body, and I have to stifle a groan. Every inch of her is plump and curvy as hell. She fills out her jeans and t-shirt in a way that makes my throat tighten, a primal desire stirring deep inside me. Then, before I can stare any longer, she turns her back to me with a gasp, hands covering her face.
“Who are you?” I ask hoarsely, barely able to speak.
She’s quiet for a few moments, breathing hard, then she turns back to face me.
“I-I’m so sorry,” she says eventually, her voice honey-sweet. “I…got the wrong cabin.”
Her eyes flit down for a moment.
That’s when I remember I’m naked.
Shit.
I’m reluctant to leave this girl for even a second, but something tells me she’ll find it easier to talk to me if I’m wearing something. Especially since the sight of her is making my cock stiffen, all my blood rushing downward in a way that’s pretty damn obvious.
“Wait there while I get dressed, okay?” I tell her. “Don’t move.”
I rush back to the bathroom and urgently pull on my clothes. When I return to the living room, my breath hitches all over again. I can’t believe this angel is really here in front of me. Part of me expects her to disappear at any moment, like a dream I’m about to wake up from.
“You said you got the wrong cabin,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Did you book one of the rentals?”
“Rentals?” Her brow furrows. “No. I’m here to see my brother Brody…maybe you know him? He just moved out here.” She bites her lip, looking embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. I assumed this was his place—it must be around here somewhere.”
Aside from Weston’s place and the rental, there’s only one other cabin around here. I don’t know who lives there, but I figure it must be this Brody guy. There’s nothing else around for miles.
“I think I know where your brother lives. I can take you there.”
She still looks mortified, but those pretty pink lips curve into a smile as she says, “Thank you so much. I’d really appreciate it…Obviously I overestimated my sense of direction.”
“Don’t mention it. Easy to get turned around out here if you don’t know these woods.”
The girl nods and reaches for her suitcase, but I get to it first, hoisting it up by the handle as I open the front door.
“I got it,” I tell her.
“Thank you. Sorry it’s so heavy.”
I’m used to hauling giant logs around, so the suitcase feels featherlight as the girl follows me out of my cabin and into the woods. I shorten my strides so she can keep up, blood thrumming hard through my veins as we head off together.
Fuck, what’s happening to me?
I’ve never felt like this before. It feels like I’m losing my goddamn mind. My body is hyper-focused on this beautiful girl, aware of every breath, every movement she makes, and when her arm brushes mine slightly as we walk, it feels like the whole world just fucking shifted. It doesn’t make any sense. I just met her. She’s a stranger. A beautiful stranger who got lost looking for her brother’s cabin. That’s it.
“I’m Celeste, by the way,” she says from beside me, her voice making my pulse jump.
God, even her name is pretty. Angelic.
“Dane.”
“Nice to meet you, Dane.”
Then she smiles at me again, and I know for sure that I’m a total fucking goner.