Kaede (Diamond Ridge Mountain Men #2)

Chapter 1

WILLOW

“Oh yeah, well you’re a jerk! And you know what else?

It’s the GooGooDolls, not the Google Dolls!

You eat hot dogs, boxed mac and cheese, and chicken wings weekly!

You’renota foodie! Stop wearing that beanie, you look like you should be on a fishing boat off the coast of Washington state!

And… and…” I gasp for air as the interior of my car seems to close in.

But back in reality, there’s no one else in here. Just me.

If only I’d said those things to Rod when he dumped me two months ago. I’m not running them through my head because I still love him. I don’t. Actually, I’m not sure I ever really did. I feel like I didn’t get… closure… or revenge.There’s a fine line.

I just stood there with my mouth open, but I don’t think I wanted to disagree with him. I wanted to stand up for me. Not us.We weren’t right.

But he made it clear that I wasn’t right for him.Fat. Needy. Easily appeased.The words still dig into me.

So I might have a little extra around my waist. And I do enjoy attention from the person I believe loves me. But I’mnoteasily satisfied and he of all people should know that, considering I never let him satisfy me.

Deep down I knew something wasn’t right back then, but how couldn’t I see it? It was so wrong there wasn’t much right. Would I know right when it was right?

Google Dolls— who says that with a straight face?

I shake my head and roll my eyes.

My GPS speaks and I refocus. The sun is setting quickly and although I kind of know the area, I also know that one bad turn and you’re not in the United States anymore when it comes to Montana.

The voice demands that I turn right. Thankfully, I recognize this road.

I pass by the lane that leads to my best friend Daisy and her hubby Boone’s property.

They’re the reason I’m out here. They’ve set me up in their friend’s cabin for the Christmas weekend as a gift.

Their place is only one big open room, so I can’t even imagine staying with them, especially with their newest addition arriving about two weeks ago— Maverick Larimore.

I sigh. Babies . I’ll get to see the little cutie tomorrow and it makes me so happy to know Daisy has her dream guy and is so crazy in love.

And maybe I’m just a little jealous.

I take a left as the GPS instructs and drive the four miles to a dot on the map, deep in the woods of the Diamond Ridge Mountains. As far as I know these mountains aren’t rich in the actual treasured gemstone, but I haven’t thought to look it up.

As a website designer I live on the web. It’s basically my second home. But I’ll be without internet this weekend. A break from checking emails, social media, things that really don’t mean much to me. Just the way I want it.

The cabin comes into view and I inhale sharply.

It looks like those Lincoln Logs my brother used to play with have been stacked, seamlessly and ornately.

It’s not overly big, but it’s definitely bigger than I expected from Daisy’s description.

It’s picture-perfect with the pine trees sprouting up like exclamation marks around it.

And the wraparound front porch will be the place for watching the sunrise in the morning with a glass of French-pressed coffee steaming in the cold mountain air.

Maybe this dude will be going away in the spring or summer…

I glance at the GPS and it’s directing me to drive behind the house.Stupid GPS. The dot’s right here.

I close the app and sit with a crazy wide smile on my face. I’ve never been this excited for a few days of downtime. I work fifty or more hours a week, and I need to reset, to reexamine what I really want in both love and life.

Tiny flakes flutter like fireflies through the crisp mountain air as I climb out of the car. “Typical Montana.”

I’ve checked the forecast and what’s on the way won’t be bad until later next week. I’ll be back in Helena and sitting in front of my gas fireplace enjoying a hot cup of cocoa before it gets nasty again.

I open the trunk and giggle to myself. Daisy would totally laugh at the size of my suitcase. For a four-night stay I’ve got enough clothing for probably a week.

More .

And at last count, twelve pair of shoes. I’ve got to have options for all the neurotic tendencies of the Montana weather. Of course that’s something Rod always claimed was ridiculous.

He was ridiculous.

I shake my head. I’m done thinking about him.

He was wrong. And not that I’m looking for Mr. Right, but maybe Mr. Right-Now wouldn’t be a bad thing.

I shake my head. I’m not going to give my virginity to just anyone.

The last guy taught me that you don’t always know someone.

Even after two years of being friends first, I didn’t know Rod.

You said you were done talking about him.

“I know!” I scream at the voices in my head. There aren’t a lot of them, but the ones that speak, speak loudly.

I struggle to pull my wheeled suitcase behind me. Finally, I’m at the front door. I turn in a circle looking around for the key. It was supposed to be under a flowerpot on the porch.

“Daisy, there isn’t a flowerpot.”

I leave my suitcase and walk around the south side. Maybe she meant the back door. The large glass windows allow me to have a peek inside.

Ugh.

Daisy had prepared me. “Wyatt will change the sheets on the bed, but he’s a little messy,”she said.

Little?

What I see can be described asvery, Daisy.

Wyatt’s place has dust on everything I can see from here.

I glance back at my car. I know it’s crazy, but as soon as she warned me, I decided to bring along a few cleaning supplies.

Daisy isn’t a clean freak, like I am. When I go to hotels, I clean the bathroom before using it.

That’s why I always carry baby wipes. Everywhere.

Plus, I like the smell.

But she also knows that I actually enjoy cleaning, so if this ends up with this dude making an effort to be a little more organized and tidier, my efforts won’t be for nothing. And if it doesn’t, I’ll still enjoy my time with a frosted cranberry candle and sparkling clean toilet.

The back door is bare of any embellishment and not a flowerpot to be found.

I walk to the car. I flip on the dome light to see as the sun is almost gone for the day.

I grab the shopping bags and collect an item that fell on the floor.

Two bags, one with the cleaning supplies and one with food.

I have to have my favorites— mac and cheese, those red and green M3

I turn off my phone. I’m not sure where my charging cord is in my bag, but I also said I wouldn’t worry about it. I know where Daisy lives, and I know how to get there.

I start cleaning. In two and a half hours, I have the place spotless. I stand back and look at what I’ve accomplished.

And how freaking tired I am.

I, technically, didn’t touch anything that was this guy’s. I maybe moved a couple of things to the back of the countertop and rearranged a few spices.

Who doesn’t alphabetize their seasonings?

His desk is covered with pieces of leather and opaque plastic bins are packed to the ceiling on the left side of the desk in the corner. I didn’t open any of them. He could have human body parts in there as far as I’m concerned and as long as I get some rest and relaxation, I don’t care.

I take a long hot shower. The rain shower head washes away all the tension.

I grab for my shampoo, but my hand lands on his.

I decide to use it. If I can’t sleep with a man, I might as well smell like I have.

It’s deep, earthy and woodsy. My uterus tremors in endorsement of the manly scent.

I finish up and blow dry my hair before I put on my night gown.

I collapse on the overstuffed couch, but I know if I don’t head to the bed, I’ll be sleeping here all night long. I don’t need a crick in my neck in the morning. I want to feel refreshed. I turn off all the lights, locking the front door.

Flicking down the sheets, I make sure they get a little warm air.

I swear they smell like the cologne version of the body wash I used, stronger and more concentrated.

It could be just the scent that’s infused into my hair.

But I want to believe it’s a nice touch left by the owner to remind me that a guy lives here.

My head hits the pillow, and I’m fading when my eyes pop open. I swear I hear the front door unlock.

I’ve never been in the wilderness on my own before. I’m sure it’s my mind playing with me, but I flip over to face the door.

Then I hear them.

Footsteps.

Big.

Heavy footsteps.

I try to calculate whether I have time to run to the bedroom door and lock it. But there’s no time. The bedroom door swings open, and light floods the room.

“Who cleaned my house? And who the fuck’s sleeping in my bed?”