Chapter 4
Grace
After dinner, I went across the street to a tiny grocery store, humbled by the fact that as limited as their selection of food was, I still didn’t know what to do with most of it. I kept looking up recipes on my phone while hunting down ingredients, but my cell service cut out in most aisles.
I was also super distracted by the fact that Dean ignored me at the bar.
“What did you expect him to do?” I ask myself.
“Pardon?”
“Oh nothing.” I tap my temple and smile at the cashier. “Just having a convo up here.”
Her eyebrows shoot up into her bangs and she looks back at the conveyer belt, booping all my stuff, one by one. Great, she probably thinks I’m crazy. Which, to be fair, I’m starting to suspect myself given how uncharacteristically I’ve been behaving today.
First, I pack up and leave town without saying a word to anyone, including my bestie, Nicole. Then I hole up in a bare essentials cabin in the middle of nowhere by myself… and fantasize about the lumbersnack running the place.
If those clues don’t scream that I’m having a menty b, then this will: I’m buying ingredients to cook meals for myself .
I’ve never cooked a day in my life.
Hey, if all else fails, there’s always cereal, right?
Halfway home, snowflakes fall.
Holy crap, it’s only the first week of November.
Instead of my typical musical tunes I scream-sing along with to work through my emotions, I put on my favorite stabby-murder podcast instead. I don’t know why, but these stories calm me. Again, I know how that sounds. But hey, a girl needs to do her research so she can spot serial killer behavior from a mile away. How else does someone date in this current social climate?
“—he wrapped each body part in cellophane before stuffing them in the freezer.”
Chills creep down my spine as I listen to the way this killer reportedly hacked his victims into pieces before meal prepping them in freezer bags with chopped carrots, celery, and onions, making his cannibal meals crock pot ready.
Yuck.
I turn left onto the road with a beautifully lit sign that says, “Bear Creek Cabins,” and hit my high beams. The paved path turns to dirt once I enter the circular drive where the cabins are, as if the money ran out before they could pave the rest.
“—he preserved the victim’s eyeballs in an apple jelly, stored in the basement pantry…”
I shut off the podcast and slowly make my way to the designated parking lot. If it wasn’t for the moon being so bright tonight, I doubt I’d be able to see three feet in front of me. No light pollution means when it’s dark, it’s dark out here.
I love it .
After grabbing the groceries from my back seat, I head towards my cabin when something scurries across my path. Holy shit! What the fuck is that? I drop my bags, quickly dig my phone out of my coat pocket, and hit the flashlight.
The animal runs by me again, making me scream bloody murder. I stumble backwards, nearly tripping over my groceries. Next, I hear someone running from the direction of my cabin getting closer, closer…
A huge figure runs at me, their boots pounding the dirt.
Oh my god, I’m gonna DIE !
I scream again, only this time my brain cells line up to remind me how to dropkick a motherfucker.
Dean’s booming voice makes me freeze, halfway into throwing my first punch. “Where’d you go, you little shit?” He runs around my car, searching for what turns out to be a raccoon. The animal chirps as it runs by us again. Dean rushes at me, picking me up from behind, which makes me scream again and he hauls me away from my vehicle in a hurry. “He’s under the car!” he explains, setting me out of harm’s way.
I swear this trash panda is fucking with us. As if to say, hold my beer , the little shit climbs into my car, because the back door is still open, and it goes for my leftovers from the bar.
“No!” I yell at it. “That’s not yours!” Why couldn’t it have gone for the spilled box of blueberries rolling all over the dirt instead? “Not my quesadilla!”
Dean opens all the doors to my car and manages to get the animal out. It takes off, with my half-eaten BBQ chicken quesadilla in its mouth, and I debate on chasing after it.
It was a seriously good quesadilla, damnit.
Winded, Dean heads towards me again. “Are you okay?”
My heart rate is through the roof. “Yes.”
He doesn’t seem to believe me. Cupping my face, he scans me like I’ve just come out of a fist fight.
“I’m fine.” Jeez, his hands are warm on my chilled cheeks. And they’re so big. Rough. Wait a minute … “What are you doing here?”
He steps back, putting his hands up nice and slow. “It’s not what it probably looks like.”
“So, you weren’t poking around my cabin in the dark?”
“Okay, maybe it is what it looks like, but you weren’t home so it’s not like I was peeping on you. I just got worried that the cabin wasn’t—” He stops talking, as if keeping himself from saying something damning.
“Finish that sentence,” I demand. “What about my cabin are you concerned about, Dean?”
“That.” He points in the direction the raccoon ran. “I worried you’ll have animals invading your space.”
The only animal invading my space lately is him.
And I’m not sure how I feel about it.
“Is this part of the guest experience?”
“Making sure you’re safe while staying here?” Dean shoves his hands in his pockets. “Damn right it is. And I got into my head tonight about you.”
I cock my eyebrow and put my hands on my hips. “Why? ”
“I freaked myself out knowing you’re here by yourself.” Dean’s breath puffs out in white clouds. “Animals are unpredictable, and even though it’s freezing, and most are going into hibernation already, some creatures can still be hunting and foraging. On my way home, I figured I’d make sure all your windows were secured. I’m sorry I scared you.” He rubs the back of his neck. “There’s also trail cameras hooked up everywhere, and I’ve added a few new ones around your cabin just in case. I’ll make sure to empty whatever trash you set out immediately, so it doesn’t draw in bear.”
“ Bear ?” My heart runs in panicked circles. “What do you mean bear?”
“Honey, it’s not called Bear Creek Cabins for nothing.”
No way. “I thought that was just for aesthetic!”
His brows lift and the look he gives makes me feel like an idiot. I’m now second guessing my sanity, because as much as the prospect of seeing a bear scares the shit out of me, the challenge of being here on my own becomes even more alluring.
“I’ll keep you safe,” Dean promises, maintaining his distance.
“You sure you’re not just prowling around my cabin in the dark so you can put me in a crock pot?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
The adrenaline leaves my system, and with my full belly, I’m suddenly exhausted. “It’s late,” I say, even though it’s only eight in the evening. “And I’ve got groceries to put away.” Clearing my throat, I gather my bags, restuffing them with all that fell out. Except for the blueberries that scattered out of their container, the rest of my produce is savable.
“Let me help.”
“Please don’t.” I appreciate his attempt at kindness, but no. Just… no. My brain can’t separate danger from desire, judging the way my body is behaving with him so close to me. I’m scared and turned on. Challenged and invigorated. I honestly don’t think Dean would hurt me, and I believe him about keeping me safe. He knows this area far better than me, that’s obvious. And I doubt he wants a lawsuit on his hands if I’m injured on his property. But I don’t trust myself right now. Because seeing a big man like him go into protective mode, and getting a raccoon out of my car, only to explain his side of this debacle, has me all twisted up.
“From now on, park in front of your cabin instead of over here,” he says.
“Why?”
“I’d rather you be extra safe and keep your car close to the porch just in case there’s a wildlife issue.”
“What about if you have more deliveries?”
“Your safety is more important than… anything else.” I think he notices the tension in his voice because he quickly recovers, clearing his throat. “Besides, it’s freezing out. No sense in being cold for longer than necessary out here.”
“I don’t mind the cold.” In fact, I don’t even feel the frigid temperatures right now. My body’s warming with his fierce gaze on me. It’s a wonder steam isn’t rising from my skin.
“Is that why you came here? To be cold?”
Why does it feel like he’s trying to call me out on something with that tone ?
My mouth tightens with my silence because there’s no way I’m telling him about my personal issues and the real reason I picked this place to stay for a while. It’s none of his business.
When I don’t speak, Dean shakes his head. “I thought not,” he says, sounding disappointed. He turns away from me to go back to his black pickup truck which I now notice is parked in front of the cabin next to mine.
An hour later, I’m still too wound up to relax. All I keep thinking about is the way he looks at me. How he moves. The roughness of his hands. The way his register drops a little when he says he worries about me.
It warms me from tongue to toes.
Other men I’ve had in my life were unbothered by everything. If there was trouble, money solved it. The worst danger I’ve faced was a stint of bad publicity, and it worked in my favor. Men in my life have never raised a hand at me or anything close to being a threat. Mostly because my two older brothers would tear them apart if they tried.
Dean isn’t from my world though.
He could be innocent… or extremely dangerous.
There must be something wrong with him if he’s still single, right?
“Well, you’re still single,” I remind myself.
Right. Okay then. Never mind.
Guess I’ll get some work done since I have nothing else to do.
Shrugging out of my clothes, I tear into one of my bags and pull out a few choice pieces. Then I fix my hair and makeup. Setting up the tripod, I fuck with the lighting and snap several pics along with short videos. Sometimes a simple shoot is more authentic than a whole production. Besides, I’m tired and lazy tonight.
After making enough content to work with, I wash my face and get into a pair of pajamas. The bed squeaks when I climb into it. There’s a faux fur blanket on top that smells like fresh laundry.
How many maids are there here?
Lying in bed, I edit some video clips I took earlier down by the creek, and Dean’s fears circle back. Jeez, I could have easily run into a bear down there.
How do I avoid being mauled?
A quick online search gives me some pointers, and I have no clue if I’ll ever have the balls to keep my panic in check and do any of these suggested steps if a black bear gets too close. Besides, look how cute and fluffy they are. Surely, they’d sense I’m a friend and not eat me, right?
Wrong.
Maybe I should buy bear spray, just in case.
Honestly, I’d think the chances of running into a bear, or any other Grace-eating animal around here, are slim. It’s cold out. Don’t animals hunker down in winter, and, at the very least, stay away from humans?
I wish I could stay away from humans.
Nuzzled under the covers, I upload a new post across my social media accounts. The one from earlier got plenty of hits, but I can do better. Hopefully this new reel will go more viral.
My gaze swings to the window where I can see Dean’s house across the creek. It glows in warm golden tones in the dark, like a beautiful painting .
Does he live alone? If so, who protects him ? I didn’t see a single soul around earlier, which makes me wonder if he lives, and runs this place, by himself.
No way. It would be impossible.
I can’t imagine that kind of workload and pressure.
Just seeing him split wood earlier looked tiring. But fucking hell was it hot.
If that man turns out to be a serial killer, I’m going to be so mad. He’s got this whole rugged, hot mountain man thing going on that’s seriously rocking my world today. Hmm. I wonder what other hot mountain men are out there for me to drool over.
Pulling up my favorite app, I type lumbersnack in the search bar and bada bing, bada boom , a flurry of burly men in flannels take up my screen.
Biting my bottom lip, I scroll through my feed, searching for a hottie to take my mind off Dean. Oh, this one’s cute, but, eww, no never mind. How about… mmm nope.
My high hopes deflate quickly because none of these guys do it for me until…
Wow .
He’ll do.
I can’t see his face, because his abs are running the show in this clip. The thirst trapping Hottie McFlannelton has the handle MountainWood .
Tapping on the video with over five hundred thousand views, it expands on my screen, and I freeze.
No. Fucking. Way.
It’s Dean.
“Ready to get dirty with me, baby?” He flirtatiously winks and I’m momentarily struck stupid .
“Holy shit.”
Shirtless, he stacks wood in perfect rows. The clips are short, set to sexy music, and he cuts in photos of him pouring water over his torso, looking down and wiping his mouth, and another of him undoing his belt. The edits are a little amateur but boy, do they do the trick.
This man is too fine.
I couldn’t stop staring at him in the bar earlier. Rejection teased my confidence when he didn’t so much as look at me past the moment I sat down. Then again, everyone seemed to have their eyes on me when I walked in there, so for him to participate in gawking at the new girl who stuck out like a sore thumb would have been rude.
Right?
Wait.
I am confusion.
This thirst trap has already destroyed half my brain cells.
I stare at his arms in the video, cut and chiseled by the mountain gods, and heat pools between my thighs. The way those delicious arms wrapped around me when Dean lifted me up and out of that raccoon’s path was… really fucking nice.
I would let this man toss me around in all kinds of ways. I want to climb him like a tree. Handle his wood in ways he’s only dreamed about.
I would one million percent smash Dean.
And because I’m a sucker for dramatics, the fantasy of him being all alone on this mountain, deprived of a woman’s touch for too long, and me giving him pleasure is….
So hot .
“You need to get laid, girl. You’re off the rails.” To even think there’s a chance of a man that sexy and sweet being single is next to impossible. He’s got to be wifed up and I just haven’t seen her yet.
But he didn’t have a ring on so… maybe not?
Ugh. Who cares. I can fuck him in my head and maybe that’ll be enough to get this fantasy out of my system.
Feeling naughty, I shimmy my pants down and don’t even bother to pull them all the way off. I won’t need long. Hell, I’m so hot and bothered, I don’t even think using the toy I packed is necessary. This man’s got me so turned on, and lately I’ve been hornier than I’ll ever admit, so the instant my fingers rub my clit, I’m groaning.
“Ready to get dirty with me, baby?” His thirst trap video plays over and over while I finger myself.
His abs flex, making my pussy clench.
That tone of his has me holding my breath.
Those arms, so sinewy and veiny, make my mouth water.
Then there are his big hands. The way he grips the firewood…
The. Dirt. And. Sweat. On. His. Perfect. Body.
“Fuuuuuck meeeee,” I beg as an orgasm ripples through me.
It’s over so fast, it’s hardly worth smiling over.
Wow, am I that touch-starved?
With my heart hammering, I hurry up and click out of the app, feeling so guilty for getting off on him.
Why? I don’t know. It just feels… like maybe I crossed a line.
Besides, let’s not forget, he could be a serial killer .
And the orgasm was too quick and short to make my bad behavior worth it.
“Wash it off, Gracie.”
Talking to myself is the only way I don’t feel lonely. I’ve never had a pet before, or a roommate, and growing up with two older brothers wasn’t much fun because I was the baby, and they didn’t let me tag along often. Clubbing with friends doesn’t count because I only have one true friend, Nicole, and she’s living her best life right now without me.
I’ve been alone my whole life. So, I should be just fine in this cabin until I can figure out my next move. Being secluded isn’t a bad thing.
Unless the crock pot killer is still out there…
“Ugh, stop it, Grace. You’re being way too dramatic.” Rolling out of bed, I tug up my pajama pants, wash my hands, and head to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. The silence around here makes my ears ring. I’m used to city noise. A couple of sips later and I’m meandering around the cabin, restless and a little freaked out.
Pulling the fridge door open, I mourn the loss of my quesadilla. Now is as good a time as any to try to recreate it. I got cheese, jalapenos, chicken, pineapple, and—
Damnit, I didn’t grab any barbeque sauce!
There’s no way I’m going back out tonight. That raccoon could be waiting for me. Or something worse, like a skinwalker.
I’m regretting so many of my life choices, first and foremost being this cabin in the middle of nature. I should have flown to Dubai.
“Grace, get over yourself. You’re a strong, smart baddie. ”
Yeah, a baddie with no barbeque sauce.
Slamming the fridge door shut, my gaze locks on the paper taped to it with Dean’s number.
Don’t do it, Grace .
He didn’t offer his number for a grocery run. It’s for emergency purposes only.
I shouldn’t call. It’s stupid. Unnecessary.
Fuck it, I’m calling.
Snatching my cell, I dial him up and roll my shoulders back when he answers in this deep, soft voice. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Grace.” This is a mistake. He’s been working hard all day and asking for a favor is selfish and inconsiderate .
“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone more alert.
“No, yeah, I’m fine. I just…” You got yourself into this, Grace. Now you’re screwed. I told you not to do it. “I um… was wondering if you had any barbeque sauce.”
“What?”
“It’s just that I had all the stuff to make second dinner, but I forgot barbeque sauce and now…” I want to crawl under a rock and die of embarrassment. “I’m too scared to go back out tonight and get some. It’s fine. Forget I called. It’s not important, I’m being—”
“Grace?”
“Yes?”
“I’m on my way.”