Chapter 2 Drake
Chapter two
Drake
Holy shit.
I glare down at the gorgeous woman in front of me, trying desperately to keep my eyes from traveling the length of her curvy body.
"Look, I want to be alone." I cross my arms and narrow my eyes even more at the voluptuous temptress clearly sent here like some kind of Christmas miracle to force me to think about the purpose of life without a woman like her in it.
Even a winter coat can't hide curves like those.
I move closer to the porch railing, hoping she can't see the bulge hardening at the front of my pants.
"Go live out your mountain man fantasy with someone else. "
"As if!" The woman slams her hands to her hips and glares up at me. "I'm surrounded by sexy mountain men all the time, Bucko. You're a dime a dozen where I come from." She crosses her arms, mirroring my stance and lets out an irritated huff of pure indignation.
I'm hit with an irrational jolt of jealousy. What is she doing around mountain men all the time, and why does that enrage me? Did she just call me sexy? Oh shit.
"Okay, well, move along." I know I'm being rude, but she needs to go. Now. I eye her old minivan skeptically. "There's a storm coming, so you need to get back down the mountain. And that thing looks like you need to give it time."
"Excuse me?" the woman grits out, the snowflakes already sticking to her fiery red hair like little crystals.
"Listen here, Grumpystiltskin. This is my cabin.
I've rented this place every Christmas for the last two years, and I put a deposit on it back in January.
You need to leave." She glares at me, and I have to force my eyes away from her pouty, heart-shaped lips.
I swivel my head back toward the front door, wondering if I simply go back inside, will she give up? But then something she said finally registers. I eye her in confusion. She would certainly recognize the place if she's been here before.
"I don't know what to tell you. I've lived here for the last eight months, and I signed a year-long lease." I raise my hands with a shrug.
The woman stares at me for a long moment and then sighs. "Fine. I need to use the phone inside, since I can't get cell service up here. And I know that, because I've been here before."
I tamp down a grin, despite the irritation that immediately flickers when she insists on invading my space.
"Fine." I turn and head inside, her footsteps on the porch a moment later the only indication she's following me.
When she gets through the front door, she stalks over to the kitchen, looking around the little cabin in surprise. "You've been here eight months?" she asks, reading a number out of the contacts in her phone as she pushes the buttons on the landline.
I look around, trying to see my space through her eyes.
It's tidy. The bed is made. My cereal bowl from this morning is drying in the rack, and there isn't any clutter on the counters.
Nothing out of place, although, I haven't added anything to the space that wasn't here already.
Is that what she's questioning? All the furniture came with the cabin.
I have a few thick plaid blankets strewn over the sofa for cold nights, but the only other indication that I've been here is my laptop sitting on the counter.
Before I can respond, she turns her back on me.
"Hello, Mrs. Wingingham. This is Monroe Hart."
Monroe. Holy shit, does that name fit this sexy bombshell to a T.
She wears a leopard print fuzzy coat that flares out around her curvy hips.
It's unbuttoned in the front, with a perfect view of a deep red V-neck sweater that hugs her perfect tits.
Tight, dark blue jeans are cuffed at the bottom and molded to her thick thighs and round ass.
Her long, wavy, red hair is held back by a scarf covered in cherries, and the whole effect is both erotic and playful.
She looks like a 1950s pin-up girl, and I'm pretty sure she walked right out of one of my fantasies to land in my lap.
"Um, yes. I'm at the cabin, but so is another guy—" she cuts off and turns to me with fire in her eyes.
I can't help but find her enchanting. What the hell is wrong with me? I've locked myself away in a cabin in the mountains because everyone on the face of this planet irritates the shit out of me, and this woman has thawed my cold heart in ten seconds flat.
"What's your name, grump?" She taps her foot like it's not the first time she's asked me, and perhaps she had to repeat herself because I was too busy checking out her ass in those tight pants.
Adorable.
"Drake."
She sighs, clearly irritated with me. "Drake.
He says he's been here eight months and has a one-year lease.
" Monroe twirls the phone cord around her finger, and then her whole body goes rigid.
"Sold it?" She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.
Finally, she clears her throat. "Mrs. Wingingham, you sent me a final confirmation two weeks ago. "
I sit down at the counter. Based on the half of the conversation I can hear, Monroe is the one who is going to have to leave. Instead of smug joy, all I'm left with is a pit in my stomach and a tug on my heart telling me to keep her here at all costs.
"No, Mrs. Wingingham," Monroe says with strained patience, even though her face is communicating the opposite.
"When you sell your property, the new owners do not have to honor short term leases, and you do not get to continue to make money off of the property.
They would have had to send me a new contract, and I would have paid them directly. "
Monroe looks around my little cabin sadly, and I am once again blindsided by the unfamiliar urge to scoop her into my arms and make it all better. Instead, I sit on the stool and wait for her to get off the phone.
"I'll figure it out. Yes. You too, ma'am." Monroe hangs up the phone and turns to look at me.
"Well, I'm sure you heard enough. I need to get down the mountain before the snow starts coming down harder." She strides purposefully toward the front door, barely giving me a second glance. I leap to my feet and follow, not sure what my plan is, but knowing I can't let her go.
I catch the door before it slams behind her and race down the front steps. The ground is now covered in a thin layer of translucent snow, but the wind has picked up, and it's blowing around like crazy. Monroe drops her keys on the ground.
"Damn it, motherfucker!" she yells out at the world.
I reach down to grab the keys at her feet, and she turns sharply, startled to have me come up behind her.
I look up into her blue-green eyes with her keys in my hand and see her tear-streaked face.
My heart grows another inch, and I worry that I am going to have to completely give up my grinch status if this keeps up.
"Thank you," she says, sniffling as she reaches for the keys, but I refuse to hand them over.
"You can't drive in this," I say, noting the jolt of electricity that skates through my body at the touch of her fingers to mine. "And you certainly aren't driving down the winding mountain crying."
She pulls her hand back, and I wonder if she felt it as well. "I-I'll be fine. Thank you." Monroe gives me a small smile and holds her hand out for the keys. "I'm fine. Shit happens."
"No. You'll have to stay here tonight. We'll sort it out in the morning." I pocket her keys and walk around to the passenger side of her car. "Do you have more in the trunk?"
Monroe looks at me like she's gearing up for a fight, but then the snow starts coming in sideways from the wind, and she must think better of it. She shakes her head. "No, just the suitcase and the box."
I grab both from the backseat, and the warm scent of Monroe fills my nostrils.
It's vanilla and lavender, plus something else that I can't pinpoint.
I glance to the front seat as Monroe leans over to grab her purse and what looks like a small bakery box off the passenger seat.
Her V-neck sweater gapes open, giving me the perfect view of her cleavage, and my cock strains against my zipper uncomfortably.
"Let's get inside," I grit out, and she frowns at my tone, but closes the door quickly and runs for the cabin.
My eyes are locked on her peachy ass as I follow her up the slick front steps and into the tiny one-bedroom cabin. This is a terrible idea, but I don't have any choice. I'm not willing to risk her life just to remove temptation, so Merry fucking Christmas to me.
Truthfully, this is a hell of a lot better than anything Santa's ever brought me before.