Mistletoed with the Mountain Man (Log Cabin Christmas #16)

Chapter 1

NIA

Ibalance near the top rung of the ladder, stretching to hang a vintage glass angel onto the highest branch of the window display tree.

My fingers brush the delicate ornament…one of Dad's favorites from the collection Aunt Meredith has somehow convinced me is exactly what this display needs, rather than a reminder of everything I've lost.

Two Christmases without him.

Two years of pretending the holidays still sparkle.

"A little to the left, honey!" Aunt Meredith calls from behind the counter, where she's simultaneously watching me nearly break my neck and some home renovation show on her tablet.

I adjust the angel and lean back—using the side of the ladder to hold onto—to admire my work.

It’s come together beautifully: vintage ornaments cascading like frozen waterfalls, twinkling lights wrapped around birch branches I've dragged in from the woods behind the shop, and a hand-painted sign that reads "Mountain Memories: Where Every Ornament Has a Story."

Dad would’ve loved it.

He would've stood outside with his coffee, grinning at me through the glass, giving me two thumbs up before coming in to rearrange exactly one thing just to make me laugh.

I blink hard and focus on adjusting a ribbon.

This is fine. I'm fine. I've just spent another holiday season creating magic I don't really feel, armed with a business degree I'm not using and a future I'm expertly avoiding thinking about.

"Nia, sweetheart, are you planning to come down from there, or should I bring you lunch?" Aunt Meredith's voice holds that particular blend of concern and amusement she's perfected over the past two years of watching me float through life.

"I'm creating art," I say, climbing down and dusting silver glitter off my jeans. It's a losing battle; I've been covered in glitter since Thanksgiving. "Art takes time."

"Art pays bills too, last time I checked." She peers at me over her reading glasses. "Speaking of which, have you thought any more about—"

"Oh, would you look at that." I gesture dramatically toward the window. "I think that garland needs fluffing."

"Nia Jane Wallace, you can't fluff garland forever."

"Oh yeah? Watch me." But I don't make it back to the ladder because that's when I feel it—that prickle of awareness that means someone is watching me.

I turn toward the front window.

A mountain of a man stands outside on the snowy sidewalk, hands shoved in the pockets of a dark jacket, his breath fogging in the cold air.

And he isn't looking at the display.

He's looking at me.

Our eyes lock through the glass, and something hot zips down my spine despite the December chill.

He's really tall, with dark blonde hair and the kind of jaw that’s chiseled from stone. Even from here, I can feel the intensity in his gaze, the way he seems to be assessing every detail.

Deepwood Mountain has maybe three thousand permanent residents. And I know every single one of them.

This man…is definitely not from here.

"Well, hello," Aunt Meredith murmurs, coming to stand beside me. "Now that's what I call a Christmas present."

The stranger seems to realize he's been caught staring. He shifts his weight, then heads for the door of the shop.

The bells chime as he enters, and sweet baby Jesus in a manger, he's even better looking up close.

Broad shoulders that fill the doorway, shadowed stubble along that criminal jaw, and eyes the color of deep mountain pools that I have not just internally waxed poetic about because I'm a grown woman, not some Victorian maiden.

He's also clearly out of his element as his gaze sweeps the cramped shop…every surface covered with vintage treasures, antique furniture creating a maze of narrow pathways, and approximately six thousand breakable things between him and the counter.

"Hi," he says, his voice a low rumble that does inappropriate things to my insides. "Sorry, I didn't mean to...I was just..."

"Creepily staring through our window?" I supply helpfully.

His cheeks go red. "The display. I was looking at the display."

"Sure you were."

Aunt Meredith elbows me in the ribs. "What my niece means is: welcome to Mountain Memories. I'm Meredith, and this charming creature is Nia. How can we help you today?"

The stranger—and god, he really is seriously hot in that clean-cut, probably-does-push-ups-for-fun kind of way—carefully navigates around a Regency settee and approaches the counter.

Which means he’s approaching me, since I'm still standing here like an idiot.

The man’s at least six-three to my five-six, with this contained energy about him that suggests he's probably very good at keeping things under control.

Disciplined.

The thought sends an entirely unbidden shudder through me.

"I, uh..." He clears his throat. "This is going to sound strange."

"Strange is our specialty," I say. "Last week, someone wanted to buy Aunt Meredith's antique dental equipment. We don't judge."

"It wasn't for sale," Aunt Meredith adds. "But we were flattered by the interest."

A ghost of a smile crosses his face, and wow, okay, that's dangerous.

"My family’s renting a cabin up the mountain for Christmas.

Big place, needs decorating, and I..." He rubs the back of his neck.

"I'm not great at this stuff. The creative stuff, I mean.

I can do manual labor or organize paperwork all day, but making things look. ..festive? That's not in my skillset."

I lean against the counter, trying to ignore how good he smells—something woodsy and fresh that makes me want to lean closer. "So you need decorations?"

"I need someone who knows what they're doing." His gaze meets mine, direct and a maybe a little desperate. "Someone who can make it look magical."

Oh, that's not fair. Looking at me like that, all vulnerable and sweet, while having a face that could sell cologne and a voice that could narrate my dirtiest—

"Nia does decorating," Aunt Meredith announces, shoving me forward slightly. "She's incredible at it. Makes all of our window displays.”

"Aunt Mer—"

"She's available too," my traitorous aunt continues. "Very available. Flexible schedule."

The stranger's eyes light up with hope, which should not be as attractive as it is.

"Really? Would you consider it? I'd pay well.

It's for my sister mostly. It’s her first Christmas married to my new brother-in-law, and my other brother will be coming too.

First time we've all been together in a while, and I want it to be perfect. Special."

There's something in the way he says it, a softness beneath the gruff exterior, that makes my heart do a stupid little flip.

"I don't usually do private jobs," I start, which is a lie because I've never done any jobs. I just make pretty displays for my aunt and avoid adulting.

"She needs the money," Aunt Meredith says, bluntly. "And the experience. You'd be doing her a favor, really."

"Aunt Meredith!"

"What? You do need the money, sweetheart. Can't live on hope and glitter forever."

The stranger looks between us, clearly unsure if he's walked into a family intervention or a business negotiation. "I don't want to impose—"

"You're not," I say quickly, shooting my aunt a look that promises revenge later. "But I should probably know your name before agreeing to spend time alone with you in an isolated cabin."

His cheeks go red again.

So Adorable. Completely unfair, but adorable.

"Right. God, sorry." He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a wallet, flipping it open to show a badge and ID. "Kade Giles. I'm a deputy in Colorado. Here on vacation."

Deputy. Of course he’s law enforcement. That explains the watchful way he carries himself; the has-handcuffs-in-his-truck vibe that I absolutely should not be giddy about.

"A deputy," I repeat, taking the ID to examine it closer. Definitely real. Also, his photo is somehow both official and hot, which shouldn’t be allowed. "Long way from Colorado."

"My sister Sadie lives here, with her husband, Ledger. They wanted us to come to them, since our parents decided to take a cruise to Mexico this Christmas.”

“Sadie and Ledger? The park ranger and the beer brewer?” Aunt Meredith asks. “Oh, they are the sweetest couple!”

“You know them? They don’t know I’m here early, or planning all this.” He swallows. “It’s a surprise.”

I grin. “Aww, what a nice brother you are.”

He shrugs, and the movement makes his jacket shift, revealing the collar of his flannel shirt underneath.

And the edge of what looks very much like a tattoo.

My brain screeches to a halt. Clean-cut deputy with hidden ink? That's basically my personal brand of catnip.

"So what do you say?" Kade asks, oblivious to my internal crisis. "Would you be willing to help? I've got about four days before they all descend on the cabin."

Four days…in an isolated cabin…with a man who looks like he could bench-press me and then handcuff me to the—

This is a terrible idea.

"Yes," I hear myself say. "I'll do it."

Aunt Meredith claps her hands together. "Wonderful! When do you start?"

"Now?" Kade looks between us hopefully. "I mean, if you have time. I could drive you up to see the place, show you what we're working with?"

"Now works," I say, already mentally listing out what supplies I might need. "Let me grab my coat."

Twenty minutes later, I'm following Kade's truck up the winding mountain road in my Jeep, wondering what I just got myself into.

The road climbs higher, trees pressing close on either side, until finally we turn onto a private drive. Through the snow-covered pines, I catch my first glimpse of the cabin.

Except "cabin" is a serious understatement.

The place is enormous—three stories of gorgeous log construction with huge windows, multiple decks, and enough square footage to house a small village. It's beautiful and rustic and completely, utterly devoid of any personality.

No wreaths. No lights. No hint of Christmas whatsoever.

We’ll just have to fix that.

I park next to Kade's truck and climb out, tilting my head back to take it all in. "You said cabin. This is not a cabin. This is a mountain lodge."

"Sadie and Ledger don’t have enough room in their cabin for guests," he says, coming to stand beside me. "It was the only place available on short notice."

"I see." I turn in a slow circle, imagining the possibilities. Lights wrapped around every railing, wreaths on every door, a massive tree in the great room with vaulted ceilings... "This is going to take a lot of work."

"I know." He shifts his weight, and I realize he's nervous. This big, capable man is nervous about Christmas decorations. "Too much?"

"No." I grin at him, feeling the first genuine spark of excitement I've had in months. "This is going to be amazing."

We walk toward the entrance, and he unlocks the door, gesturing for me to enter first. The interior takes my breath away—soaring ceilings, exposed beams, a gargantuan stone fireplace, and windows that overlook the valley below.

It's also completely sterile.

"Okay, so I'm seeing garland along all the railings," I say, moving through the space as ideas spark to life. "A tree here by the windows, maybe another in the loft? Lights everywhere—warm white, not those blue ones that make everything look like a morgue. Stockings on the mantle, obviously."

I turn to find Kade watching me with an expression I can't quite read, between amusement and something else that makes my stomach flutter.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing. I just..." He smiles again, really smiles, and woah, baby. "You're already seeing it, aren't you? What it could be?"

"That's kind of my thing," I admit. "Seeing the magic in things."

"Then I definitely hired the right person." He moves closer, and suddenly the large room feels much smaller. "I should warn you though—I'm particular about things. Detail-oriented. It's the job, but also just...how I am."

"Oh, so you’re anal," I say with a grin. How did I know that already?

He rolls his eyes. “Maybe a little.”

I laugh and try to ignore how close he's standing, how I can see a myriad of different colors in those mountain-pool eyes. "I should warn you that I’m not orderly whatsoever. And I’m always covered in glitter.”

"I noticed." His gaze drops briefly to my jeans, where I'm still covered in silver sparkles, before snapping back to my face. "I can handle the chaos. For a few days, at least."

"Then I guess we have a deal, Deputy Giles." I stick out my hand.

He takes it, his palm warm and firm against mine, and I swear I feel something hot spark between us.

"Kade," he says quietly. "Just Kade."

"Okay then, Just Kade." I pull my hand back before my insides go all wacky again. "Let's make some Christmas magic."