Chapter 5
Dean
Is barbeque sauce code for I’m in danger, come help me ?
For all the paranoia I’m rocking, you’d think I haven’t lived on this slice of paradise my entire fucking life. There’s never an issue around here. Even the bears are relatively chill.
But Grace shouldn’t be here alone. What I’m about to say will make me sound like a complete asshole, but she doesn’t strike me as the outdoorsy type. Her six-figure luxury vehicle, designer bags and clothes, perfect makeup, and fresh manicure scream Princess Energy.
Is she on the run? In hiding?
There are better resorts in this area that are tailored to meet all the needs of a woman like Grace Finch. Bear Creek Cabins ain’t it.
So yeah, I’m racing to her, and just in case it’s a false alarm, I’ve got a half-filled bottle of barbeque sauce from my fridge with me, too. Because the truth of it is, I’m going to provide her with anything and everything she needs while she’s here.
And I’m talking about going well beyond general hospitality.
A quick scan of the outside of her cabin tells me everything’s clear and when I hop up on her porch and knock, she opens it with a wine glass in her hand. “Hey.”
Hey? She just scared me to death, and she gives me a hey ?
Dean, you have got to calm down, dumbass.
“Oh, thank you!” She beams, snagging the bottle out of my hand. I stand in the doorframe feeling stupid. She really only called for barbeque sauce. Why the fuck did I blow it up and make it something so much worse?
I should be relieved. Instead, the protective instincts in me are still surging with the need to hold her tight, keep her warm, feed her and guard her from any predators around here.
Except the only wild animal I’m seeing is me.
And my dick must think it’s rutting season, because it’s hardening.
I really need to get out more if all it takes is one insanely sexy city girl waltzing into my life to have me acting like a caveman.
Grace leaves me standing on her porch with the door wide open. She’s got what she needs, so I should go.
Except I can’t stop staring at her ass in those cute pajama pants. And the way her oversized sweatshirt hangs off one shoulder has my mouth watering because I want to lick her collarbone, nibble that dainty neck, and devour her sweet pouty mouth.
Down boy .
“If you’re going to stand there and let all my heat out, I’m going to make you start a fire for me, Dean.”
Is that a threat or a request ?
Wait. It’s not even warm in here. Fucking hell, has she been without heat this whole time? These cabins rely on their fireplaces in winter. Did she not start a fire when she arrived?
I should have done that for her.
God. Damnit.
“Hang on.” I close the door and march across the property to the massive wood stack I’ve been working on and pile a few choice pieces into a large bin, along with a handful of tinder. The snow’s coming down a little heavier now, but it’s barely covered the ground. This cold snap is just a teaser of what’s coming. Winter’s likely arriving early this year and the amount of work I want to get done seems unrealistic on nights like this.
I reenter her cabin, heading straight to the fireplace to light things up. It takes less than a minute to get flames crackling and with how I stack the wood, it’ll slow burn and collapse into a perfect pile for her by the time she’s asleep. Pride swells in my chest knowing she’ll be toasty all night in her bed because of me.
“You’re all set.” Brushing my hands on my jeans, I turn towards the door and see the muddy boot prints I’ve left. Shit. I made a mess. Grabbing some paper towels from the kitchen, I… Double shit ! I’ve just tracked more dirt through her fucking cabin. “I’m as bad as Oscar.”
Grace looks down at what I’m talking about and giggles. “Oscar isn’t bad. You, though? I have my suspicions.”
She narrows her pretty eyes at me, and I now see she has no make up on. Wow. She’s a fucking stunner .
“I’m making quesadillas,” she announces proudly. “You want one?”
She cooks, too? Be still my starved little heart. “Sure.”
I unlace my boots and carry them to the front door. Then I quickly clean up the mess I made, apologizing once again, although Grace doesn’t seem to care.
The fire crackles and snaps, radiating heat in the tiny cabin she’s rented for two weeks.
Two. Weeks.
She’s all mine for two solid weeks.
“You’ll have to monitor over the next few days,” I say, leaning against the counter. “Winter’s hitting us earlier than expected and I smell snow.”
“Is that because it’s snowing right now?”
Her sarcasm makes my dick throb.
“No, I mean I smell big snow. I don’t want you stuck up here if we have a storm.”
Her cheeks flush a little and she pokes the quesadilla with a fork.
“I’ll refund you the money for the days you miss if you have to leave early,” I offer, hoping that makes her feel better.
“I plan to stay for at least a month, if not longer.”
The food in her frying pan starts to smoke, but she keeps poking at it. The flame’s too high, the cheese isn’t melting, and the tortilla is burning. I’m not about to point out any of that because there’s no way I’m going to insult her cooking.
“Staying for a month isn’t going to be possible, Grace. The pass gets covered, and I’ll likely be snowed in up here by early December. That’s why I don’t rent the cabins beyond the second week of November. ”
She cocks her eyebrow and looks at me like I’m nuts. “This is a skiing destination, Dean. You’re telling me these cabins aren’t rented out for the entire season?”
Shame slaps me. “It’s been a while since this place was booked for ski season. I don’t have the equipment or the staff to run it like I used to.”
Her eyes widen. “No one will be here at all?”
What’s it matter to her? “No.”
She pauses, as if thinking things over and pokes the tortilla some more. When she folds it in half, the charred outside cracks and crumbles. It smells terrible and smoke wafts around us, likely about to set off the fire alarm. I turn on the stove fan and crack open a window to prevent that from happening.
“This doesn’t look like what I ate at the Salt Lick earlier.” She frowns, dumping the food onto a plate. “I’ve burned it.”
The disappointment in her voice is so sad. “The heat was a little too high, sugar.”
After quickly washing out the pan, I set it back on the stove. “Want to try again?”
She picks at the one on her plate and tastes it. Her face scrunches up in the most adorable way and she grabs her phone, snapping a pic. “Yeah, but if I fuck up again, I won’t have enough ingredients for a third attempt.”
“Mind if I help you?”
She stares at me for several heartbeats before saying, “I can do it.”
With a smile, I raise my hands and step back, letting her have another crack at it.
She dumps cheese onto a fresh tortilla and starts all over again, this time turning the burner on low. There’s a huge mess all over the counter—bits of jalapeno everywhere, including the floor. The rotisserie chicken looks like a crazed fox got to it.
She’s clearly a terrible cook.
Why is that so hot?
Grace takes another healthy sip of her wine and does a little happy dance.
My smile gets bigger.
She looks over at me. “Want a glass?”
“No thanks. I’m not a wine drinker.”
“More for me.”
A quick glance at the label and I make a mental note to grab her another bottle next time I’m in town. If it makes her this happy to drink it, I’ll buy a fucking case. “You’re doing a good job with this second one.” I replace her fork with a spatula. “Try flipping it with this when you fold it.”
She smacks her palm with the flat side. “Good thinking.”
“And if you put a lid on, the cheese will melt faster.”
“You’re a genius.” She goes digging for a lid and gently rests it on top.
I can’t stop staring at her as she picks at the rotisserie carcass and eats tiny bits.
“You’re recreating the bar’s quesadilla?”
“Yeah.” She takes another sip of her wine. “I get hyper fixated on a food sometimes. I’ll eat it every day for weeks until I’m sick of it.”
Interesting. “So, a barbeque chicken quesadilla put a spell on you?”
“Seems to be the case.” She tears off another piece of chicken and pops it in her mouth. “I definitely should go harder on the jalapenos though. ”
“Maybe add caramelized onions, too. That’s what I would do.”
She frowns. “I don’t have onions.”
I’m tempted to run home and get one for her, but she waves her hand and says, “Meh, it’s fine without it. I don’t even know how to caramelize an onion.”
Grace is adorable.
“Also…” She turns to me, smacking her hand with the spatula again as if threatening to use it on me. “I’m not leaving in two weeks. I’m staying up here until spring.”
The hell she is.
Anger slices through me. “I already told you it’s not safe.”
“Not safe for anyone or not safe for me ?” She pokes me in the chest. “Listen buddy, I’m not as fragile as you think I am. I’m staying up here.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“With what food?”
“There’s a grocery store in town.”
“And you think that fancy car of yours will get you through snow-covered back roads?”
“I think your snowmobile will. I saw you have one. I’ll order another for myself if I have to.”
I’m not sure what floors me more. The fact that she can so easily blow money, that she’s telling instead of asking, or that I’m considering allowing her to stay because I want to keep her around.
“I’ll be fine,” she huffs, pulling the lid off the quesadilla and folding it in half. It’s perfectly golden this time. “And I won’t take no for an answer. ”
Now I’m pissed. “You don’t call the shots here, Grace.”
“I know. But I’ll pay you double the amount per week.”
“What?”
“Fine. Triple.”
Why does she want to stay so badly?
With a confident stride, Grace carries her plate over to the table and sucks some of the barbeque sauce off her thumb. I don’t like being pushed around, even by a sexy city queen who can’t cook for shit. This woman is up to something.
“Why are you really here, Grace?”
She snags a knife from the drawer and saunters back to the table with it. While cutting the quesadilla into four sections, she says, “That’s none of your business.”
It is if she’s trying to take my property away. “Who do you work for?”
“Myself.” The prickly woman slides two sections onto another plate and shoves it across the table. “There you go.”
I’m not hungry. But I also don’t want to offend her by turning the meal away. She sits down and takes the first bite, doing a little happy wiggle in her seat about it. Some of my anger fades because she’s too cute for her own good. If she’s desperate to stay in the middle of nowhere all alone, and she’s not here on behalf of that New York Fuckhead, then…
“Are you in trouble?” I cautiously ask, sitting across from her.
“No. Why? ”
“I’m just trying to understand why a little city mouse like you would be so hellbent on staying in a dump like this during the worst time of year.”
“One, winter is my favorite season, so don’t diss it. And two, I just need some alone time.” She licks the sauce off the corner of her mouth. I wish I could have done that for her.
Christ Dean, make up your mind! Are you attracted to her or are you annoyed by her?
Both. I’m both. It’s a heady combo that my dick is enjoying way too much.
Working through all the things flying in my head, I take a bite of her meal. It’s pretty good. Really close to the one they make at the bar, except there are no seasonings in Grace’s version. “You did a good job on this.”
“I know,” she says, all sweet and cocky. Then she wiggles her butt in the seat again.
A laugh huffs out of me. I’ve never seen a grown woman happy dance so much before. And whatever her reason is for wanting to be here, I have to trust that it’s for her own good, and not to fuck me over.
Besides, I could use the money.
“If you want to stay… stay. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
Instead of responding to that, she saunters over to the fridge and pulls out my favorite beer. “Thirsty?”
I nod.
Holy shit, did she know that was my favorite or is it just a coincidence? She would have seen what I ordered at the bar…so did she buy this just for me?
No. No way. I’m overthinking again.
“So…” Grace sits back down and steeples her fingers. “Tell me why you’d call this place a dump wh en it’s very clear that it’s the most important thing to you, Dean?”
Her insanely personal question numbs me.
I’m not about to pour my heart out to this stranger. But maybe I can use it as leverage to get to know why she’s really here. “Tell me why you’d come to Bear Creek Cabins instead of the fancy resorts only an hour away, Grace Finch?”
“I already did. I want the solitude.”
Liar .
She must sense that I don’t believe her because she drains her glass. “I’m going through something and need space from everyone in my life. Any of the… fancy… resorts in this area will have people I know staying there, and I don’t want to see anyone. There. Happy?”
Not hardly, but it’s better than nothing. And going off the flush of her cheeks and the way her body language has shifted, I’m inclined to believe she’s telling me at least some of the truth.
Grace cocks her brow and folds her arms. “Your turn.”
I’m too embarrassed to admit to this princess, who probably has more money than God, that I’m barely able to keep my business afloat and have turned to thirst trapping for grocery money.
“Thank you for the meal, it was delicious. Have a nice night, Grace.”
I shove my chair back and storm out of her house, not even bothering to lace my boots after stuffing my feet in them. I need to get out of here before I look like a failure to the prettiest woman in the whole wide world and embarrass myself further .
“Dean!” she calls out from the doorway, and I look over my shoulder at her.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for coming to my rescue earlier… and for the sauce.”
My bruised pride perks up a little. “No problem. If you need anything else, just call. I’ll come as quick as possible.”
“Well, I hope that’s not always the case… Mountain Wood.”
My feet stop moving.
My heart skids to a stop.
What. The. Fuck. She knows my handle? Did she watch my videos?
Embarrassment doesn’t even begin to describe the heat coursing through my body right now. But her tone wasn’t taunting me… she was toying with me.
Grace shuts her door with a soft click, leaving me on the lawn, speechless.
Is she playing a game with me?
“Okay, sugar. You want to play, let’s play.”