Chapter 3
THREE
Grace couldn’t believe how high up they were on the mountain. They had some people with summer cabins scattered around, but she didn’t think any of them were at this elevation. Mount Mitchell was less than twenty-five miles away, and it was the highest peak east of the Mississippi, so she shouldn’t have been surprised.
It was a huge amount of work to live in such a secluded location, though. They had some doomsday preppers and even some militia people scattered throughout the mountains, so she knew it could be done, but it was a massive undertaking.
Owen Black seemed to have the confidence to do it, though.
Owen was a disturbingly interesting man. The first time Grace had met him, she was sure she’d made a fool of herself. It had been at the bistro. She’d stopped in to pick up a to-go order for lunch, and her crazy aunt Tasha, her father’s sister, had grabbed her arm as she was checking out.
“I need you to come over here, Grace. Now. You need to know this man.”
Tasha had led her to a table in the corner where Black was sitting. Grace had to blink several times. She was very familiar with every single dating-age man in Whisper Hollow, and Mr. Black was not on that list.
“He’s building that facility up the mountain,” Tasha had said.
The man had given her a slight smile, his dark, storm-cloud colored eyes creasing a little. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Lane. Tasha says you do interior design work.”
His voice was raspy and harsh, and she knew immediately that something had happened to injure it. There were no visible scars or anything that she could see, only Greek god perfection. The man had thick, dark curls with a hint of gray at the temples, with an indentation in those curls where the brim of his black cowboy hat rode. He was sitting in a booth, and his shoulders took up most of the space on the bench. She had a feeling he was tall.
It had taken her a long moment to remember what he’d asked her, and she launched into what she could do for him, even working remotely. They had set up a very basic plan, and she’d promised to get him catalogs to choose things from.
He’d slid out of the booth to shake her hand as they were saying goodbye, and she was struck dumb once again. Black towered over her, at least six-three, and as she’d taken his hand, she’d felt a snap of electricity. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before, and it left her thinking she had to have imagined it.
Months later, she still felt that little snap when they touched. She’d felt it earlier when he’d helped her into the truck.
Tasha had looked between them, nodding and smiling to herself.
She’d seen Black a few times since then, and he kept himself reserved. Maybe now that she was getting closer and doing more for the sanctuary, and he trusted her more, something would change. The man was… energizing, and he made her senses perk up like no one else ever had. Even now, just sitting beside him in the truck, her tummy was fluttery with nerves at being so close to him. She wanted to stare at him, but that would be weird.
They jounced up the mountain, and it seemed like there would be no end to the rough ride. Then they rounded a bend, and she spotted a cabin. When they pulled up to the security building and the final gate, Grace’s eyes were wide in her face. There was a huge fence attached to the gate. The kind with small squares and three strands of barbed wire at the top.
A man in black fatigue-like clothing, obviously armed, leaned down to look at their faces, and Owen said a few words to the man. Then they drove through the gate. She glanced back at the guard as they drove through, but he didn’t acknowledge her. Curiosity ate at her as she watched the massive gate swing shut behind them.
“Are the people you counsel here held against their will?”
Owen glanced at her sharply. “Quite the opposite. This is to keep people out of their space. Most of the men up here are struggling with crippling PTSD. Crippling, as in, they don’t want to deal with the public at all if they can avoid it. We give them a space to do that, and we don’t require them to do anything they don’t want to. They are not prisoners.”
She sensed that she’d aggravated him somehow, so she didn’t say anything else the rest of the ride up. As they navigated a switchback, she caught sight of a massive timber lodge nestled into a broad canyon. It was three levels with a steep front peak and covered deck, then with several other levels at different angles. It looked a little odd at first until she realized the levels were built into the angle of the mountain. Massive iron beams were set into the rock of the mountain and she doubted an earthquake would move it. Every level had its own deck, and she could see solar panels on the southward facing roof.
“Oh, my God!” she breathed. “How on earth did you build that up here?”
Owen snorted. “We didn’t build it. We had a team come in from Vermont to do it. It’s not completely done, but we know enough now that we can finish it ourselves.”
It was a beautiful structure. Years ago, Grace had been to Aspen, and it reminded her of some of the chalets there, though on a more massive size. The logs were dark, and blended into the towering evergreens perfectly. It straddled a white water creek swollen with runoff from the mountain.
“We have a pump station behind the lodge that throttles the water and runs our power. It also feeds gravity plumbing throughout the main lodge and the rest of the compound.”
Grace shook her head in wonder. She’d been to a few rural cabins, and they were nothing like this. The sheer scope of the engineering… “It looks amazing.”
They crested a rise, and she could tell they’d finally reached the sanctuary itself. On the left was a cleared, almost flat field, covered in piles of snow. At one end, there was a massive greenhouse, and a line of equipment. Two men were walking out of the structure, and they watched the truck as they drove by.
Everywhere she looked, men were working or building something industriously. A couple of the men seemed to be disabled, but that didn’t seem to deter them. They were out working with the others, even in the cold and snow.
This place was so much more than she’d expected. The questions were stacking up in her brain, but she bit her tongue to keep them in. Eventually, they pulled into a driveway to the west of the main building. Here, there was a line of cabins, some finished, others not. They were spaced far enough apart to give each cabin some privacy, with pines towering over and around them, and they each seemed to have a stunning view of the expansive valley below.
Owen pulled up in front of the third cabin down. It was a little bigger than the others, with a beautiful A-frame front and massive glass windows. “I know I sound like a broken record, but this is beautiful,” she whispered.
He flashed her a slight smile, but said nothing. There was a furniture truck parked in the drive, so Owen parked to the side. “Let’s go see what they’ve moved in.”
Grace trotted along behind him as he walked the wood chip path to the front of the house. Three men were just coming out of the house, and they stopped to talk to Owen.
“The main bed is ready,” one man told him, crossing his heavy arms. Even though it was only about thirty degrees out, he wore a simple red checked flannel and jeans. Grace almost shivered for him. But also because he was devastatingly handsome, with thick, dirty blond curls sticking out from under a tattered red ball cap. He had deep, navy blue eyes and a thick golden beard. And he was so muscular. The second, silent man was as well, in a completely different way. He wore a long, camouflage jacket over jeans and boots, and his dark eyes surveyed her coldly. The wind teased at his long, straight black hair. She looked for a name patch on the military jacket, but it was absent. The third man must have been the delivery driver, because he shoved the copy of a bill toward Black, then stomped away.
“What’s his issue,” Owen asked, and the flannel guy grinned a little.
“We made him unload. One end table has to go back because he dropped it on the way up the stairs and snapped a leg.”
“Unloading is literally part of his job,” Owen growled, glancing at the bill.
“Yeah, but once he heard where he was delivering, he wanted out of here pretty bad. Supposedly, this mountain is haunted?”
Grace snorted, and all three men looked at her. Oh, hell. That was a lot of hard masculinity turned her way. “Hi. I’m Grace Lane,” she said, holding her hand out to the other two men.
Flannel guy shook it. “Doc.”
But the second guy wouldn’t take her hand. And no one supplied his name. She folded her hands together self-consciously. “He’s talking about the Nunnehi. It’s a Cherokee folklore that little people, the fey, live in these mountains. Sometimes they protect hikers, other times they lead them to their doom.”
The three men didn’t laugh in her face, but they did exchange looks.
“The Cherokee have been here for hundreds of years, and even I’ll admit there have been some strange things happen to people in the area.” She shrugged lightly. “That’s why he wanted to get out of here. My crazy aunt says it’s a hotspot for woo woo stuff.”
Tired of them just staring at her, she circled around them to head inside.
“Oh, my gosh,” she breathed.
The cabin welcomed you with a huge, vaulted ceiling, bigger than she’d expected from the rendering. The logs were flat inside and stained a warm honey blond. The living room was bigger than she’d expected, and there were several massive windows to let in the light. A huge natural stone fireplace blazed on the far wall, and she could already envision where everything she’d brought would go. The plastic wrapped furniture was set, but not positioned. She would take care of that after she dropped the rugs on the hardwood floor.
Grace moved toward the back of the cabin. The kitchen looked out onto this space, with no walls to break it up. It was a beautiful, open-concept design, and it was stunning. “Whoever moves in here is going to love this,” she said softly, sensing that Owen was behind her.
The man put her on edge. There was something about his probing, thoughtful gaze. She knew she could be a lot, but he looked at her like she was a bug sometimes. It was very strange. He’d sent her a lot of business, though, so she was willing to put up with some strangeness. And he was being protective of the men here. All attributes to be admired.
Grace had a problem with curiosity, though. Someday, it would probably be her downfall. She’d proclaimed not to be like the busybodies at the cafe downtown, but she liked a good piece of gossip as much as the next girl. She just knew when not to spread the gossip.
She was so curious about the family moving in, though. Owen had told her it was a younger couple with a small baby girl. And that was it.
“Does the woman like to cook? I have a few pans and utensils, but I didn’t get everything.”
She glanced up at him, and was hit again by his harsh good looks. The man reminded her of a Roman gladiator, with his thick, curly, almost black hair, dark brows and a strong, Roman nose. His cheeks and jaw were covered with a short dark beard, like he’d forgotten to shave for a couple of weeks. Or maybe only a week. She had no idea how quickly a man’s beard grew. It seemed like it would be long enough for her to run her fingers through.
Or leave some nice beard-burn on her thighs…
He wore an army green henley with a black flannel, and a heavy winter coat over top. Worn, stained jeans wrapped around muscular looking thighs, and his boots looked more than broken in. They just looked broken, she thought, smiling slightly. Were they even waterproof anymore?
Grace spun away from him, looking desperately at the kitchen. She crossed to the cupboards and looked inside. Yup, not a thing in there.
Focus, Grace .
“So, I brought some basics, but they’re going to need a lot more.”
Owen heaved a sigh. “I don’t think they’re picky about what they get, but it has to be festive. This is their little girl’s first Christmas, and Angela wants it to be memorable.”
Grace spun around. “Wait, what? Her first Christmas? You never told me that. I have nothing festive, just basic household stuff.” She looked out at the space. “They’re going to need a tree and lights and everything. They’re coming in tomorrow?”
He nodded, crossing his arms over his thick chest. “We planned on getting a tree from the forest.”
She cocked her head at him. “Okay, that’s great. You have a stand and base for the live tree, then? So it doesn’t dry out and become a fire hazard? And decorations?”
“No,” he admitted, voice low. He glanced around the space, brows furrowed. “I’ll be honest, it was a surprise they were coming down now. I thought they were going to wait until spring. This cabin is the furthest along, but only because we’ve all been working on it around the clock.”
“Well, you have a little more work to do,” she said, grinning at him. “Let’s get moving. Then you’ll have to run me down the mountain for the finishing touches.”
The three men unloaded Owen’s truck while Grace started unwrapping furniture. The pieces she’d ordered were comfortable and well-built, and they should last a long time. The fabric was also stain-resistant, perfect in a house with a baby.
She would have to scrounge for the holiday decorations. There wasn’t enough time to drive into Asheville, almost two hours away, to do a complete stock up. She would have to improvise. Maybe Jazz…
She directed the men where things went and gave them trash to take outside to burn or do whatever they did with it. Then she went from room to room, positioning items and making a list of anything she forgot. By the time she was done, the house looked more like a home.
But it needed more.
Owen had disappeared, but the two men who had been helping were sitting in colorful chairs on the front porch. The more personable flannel guy, Doc, looked up when she stepped outside.
“Can you let Owen know I’m ready to head down the mountain?”
He tipped his ball cap to her as he stood. “Cap’n had to handle some emergency. I’ll take you home.”
Well, damn. She’d hoped to have him to herself for a while longer. “Okay, well, let me gather up my things and we’ll go.”
She watched as the second, quiet man rested a hand on Doc’s shoulder and walked away. Had the man even said one word while she’d been there? She didn’t think he had. It seemed weird to think, but his expression seemed a little sad.
Owen’s truck was gone, but there was a forest green jeep parked at the end of the drive. Grace tiptoed her way through the thicker snow to the vehicle and climbed in the passenger side. The car was cold, and she was shivering by the time Doc circled the hood and climbed in. Snow was falling now, and she wondered how they kept the roads clear.
“How do you keep everything maintained?”
Doc cranked the heat as they pulled away from the cabins and turned down the mountain. “We have a garage down by the main building. And four-wheelers and a couple of tractors with buckets and blades. We have a backhoe if something big needs done.”
“I’m amazed at the amount of work you’ve done up here,” she said, shaking her head as she glanced out the window. She was looking out at the other side of the property now, and she gasped. “Is that a freaking tree house?”
She craned her neck, staring, then looked at Doc.
He grinned slightly. “Yes. We have several throughout the property.”
She shook her head. This was going to be the hardest NDA to stick to she’d ever signed.
Doc answered her questions as they raced down the mountain, but she could tell he preferred the silence, so she just watched as the light faded. The warm truck made her a little somnolent, even with the bumpy drive, and she realized how tired she was. It had been a long day. When they entered the town limits only minutes later, she perked up.
“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll make the next trip up tomorrow morning, early,” Grace told Doc. “I have a lot to pack up and think about.”
“That’s fine. What time?”
“Is eight too early? I know they’re arriving tomorrow, so I want to have everything done well before they get there.”
He gave a nod of his head. “Someone will be down to escort you.”
Escort her. Hm. She slid out of the jeep and gave him a wave.
“Hey, Grace,” a voice said from just behind her. “Who’s the hunky guy?”
Grace turned and grinned. “Hey, Jazz! You are just the girl I was thinking about! It’s one of the men from the sanctuary up the mountain.”
Jasper Lee had been her friend since elementary school, and she always managed to be around when Grace needed her. When Grace had remarked upon it once, Jazz had shrugged lightly. ‘I always listen when the spirits tell me to move,’ she’d said, her dark Cherokee eyes shining. Very much like they were now. She grinned. “Oh, really? Do tell!”
Grace slid her arm into Jazz’s and turned to watch the Jeep leave. “You know I can’t. I need holiday decorations.”
Her friend cocked her head, and she looked intrigued. “I think we can dig some stuff up.”
They turned, arm in arm, and headed back down the street to Jazz’s Treasures, the thrift store she’d opened up several years ago. Jazz waved at the young girl at the checkout register and led Grace through the aisles to the holiday section. Grace picked out several items, loading them into a shopping basket.
“This is perfect. I thought I was done decorating for the holidays,” she laughed.
Jazz gave her a knowing look and a slight smile. She’d heard about the NDAs just like everyone else had, so she knew Grace couldn’t tell her anything.
“Maybe we can grab some dinner after we drop this stuff off at your shop.”
Grace nodded. “I’m up for it.”
She also knew why Jazz wanted her with her. Undoubtedly, they would go to Lila’s Bistro, and Jazz would moon over one of the men there. A new cook had taken over after Charlie had burned himself, and Jazz had been making her presence known to the man. Not that he seemed to be listening.
“It’ll have to be an early night, though. I have a lot of stuff to… get ready.”
Jazz nodded, and they headed out.