Chapter 26
Grace
Guilt strikes when Dean’s truck disappears down the hill. I should have ridden with him while he cleared the roads. I could tell he was worried about me riding this thing but as much as I appreciate his concern, I’m ready to have fun and if I hurt myself doing it, then oh well. I’ve ridden snowmobiles before, so it’s not like I’m completely clueless.
I love that he wants to protect and take care of me, but I also want to get pretty good at taking care of myself.
The crazy dip and slide across the stream were a headrush though. No lie, it freaked me out a little bit. Catching airtime at the top was not on my bingo card either. I nearly peed my pants. Here’s hoping I looked cool doing it.
Being out here, riding a snowmobile alone, is a million times better than following one of my brothers from one point to another like I used to on family trips.
Zipping through spaces between the cabins, I zigzag my way around, enjoying the peaceful freedom Dean’s property lends me. I absolutely love it here. And because I’m a whore for content, I whip out my cell and take some videos and selfies. Uploading three faves, I add the caption: Self-care snow day! Remember to take time for yourself to do what makes you happy!
As soon as I grab my gown, I’ll head back to the house, get redressed, take more photos and videos, then wait patiently for my man to get home so he can fuck me in it.
Ya girl’s got plans.
Big, hulking, lumbersnacky plans.
Last night’s date was so perfect. Sweet, simple, and sexy as hell. Of all the lavish dates I’ve ever been on, Dean’s made them all look like trash. And the fact that his friends were in on it, supporting our relationship, was so incredible. I feel like I belong here. And my body still aches from what he did to it all night long.
I love that for me.
Out of habit, I open the app he posts on, just in case he made a video I haven’t seen yet. He’s made one for me every day so far.
Yup. There it is.
My smile splits my face in two when I see it’s already got over two-hundred thousand likes. My man’s hit the viral charts, and I couldn’t be more ecstatic.
“Good Morning, Gorgeous. Did you have fun last night?” Dean’s pulling a shirt over his head, tugging it down slowly to hide his abs one muscle at a time. Then he runs his hands through his hair, sweeping it out of his face. “Fuck, I still feel you all over me.” He collars his throat with his hand and closes his eyes. “The way you smell. The way you taste…” He pops those brown peepers open and grins. “The way you bite.”
My pussy clenches .
“I’m the luckiest man on earth,” he says, then gives the phone a mock forehead kiss. “Now how about you get bundled up so we can have some fun today. This view is almost as breathtaking as you.” He rotates the camera, giving the audience a spectacular shot of this powder covered mountains. “Oh, one last thing…” He spins the camera back onto his face. “I want you to say only nice things to yourself today. Got it?” He grins. “Good girl.”
I cannot tell you the level of happiness I feel right now. Like, it’s immeasurable. I feel drunk off Champagne, all bubbly and dizzy. And the insane number of comments on this post is bananas.
Dean’s damn talented at making a woman feel good.
Lord, it’s me again…
I wake up every morning specifically for this hit of dopamine.
Forget my girl bro. Take me.
Blessing my feed every day.
Built my feed brick by brick.
I’m tagged a ton, too, with comments like: Girl, does he look at you like this irl?
And also: He’s just doing it for the golden FINCH $$$
If only that last commenter knew how untrue that is. Dean wouldn’t take my money, even if I begged. He’s hellbent on doing all this on his own, with zero handouts. When we discussed bank loans, he revealed he’d taken a huge line of credit to pay off the debt he’d racked up while taking care of his grandfather and would never do it again. The only inheritance was the land and home, which Dean is never selling, but taxes on it nearly wiped him out… and then came the Clyde-Smith vultures.
He just needs a foothold on this business again. A chance to get things up and running. Sure, he could have left the cabins looking old and shabby, and marketed them as glamping, but that’s not his goal. That system no longer works in this area, thanks to the ski resorts and luxury hotels nearby. His competition has leveled up, which means he has to as well.
I get it. But it’s going to take time, which he doesn’t have. Money, which he doesn’t have. If he’s only willing to work odd jobs for side money, and post content online like this, then it’s going to take a lot of attention to make this work in his favor.
He’ll get there.
I’ll make sure of it.
Hey, at least he’s a hard worker and can do all the renovations himself. That’s got to save a ton of money, right? Nick is willing to help, which is awesome. He also has me… and no one, I mean, no one should underestimate me with a hammer.
Dismounting from the snowmobile, I dig out the cabin key from under the rug. It sticks a little as the cold metal slides into the lock and I have to shove my shoulder against the door to open it.
One step inside my cabin and my eyes can’t quite make sense of what I’m looking at.
What’s that noise?
Why is there water on the floorboards?
What the fuck is going on here?
Quickly moving to the kitchen area, my heart stops when I see it’s a complete wreck. Water has saturated everything. It’s partly frozen on the floor. The cabinets are leaking .
“What the hell is this?”
Did I accidentally leave the faucet running for days and flood the cabin?
Oh my god .
Guilt chokes me.
I don’t know what to do…
Everything is ruined.
I’ve set Dean back more money. More time. More energy and supplies. I’ve messed up his best cabin.
When did I use that sink? Why would I leave it on like that?
My mother’s voice booms in my head. “You stupid idiot. You’re absolutely worthless. This is why you should just be a trophy wife. They don’t lift a finger. You ruined everything. He’s going to be so mad at you. He’s going to hate you.
I… I can’t breathe.
Tugging on the zipper, I rip my coat open and tear it off me.
My lungs saw icy air as I try to escape the cabin through the backdoor. The bolt is stuck. Everything’s stuck. It’s all frozen. All ruined.
“You did this .”
I manage to yank open the door and stumble out onto the backside of the porch. Leaning over the railing, my tears sting my face as I cry harder and harder.
I have to call Dean. I need to tell him what’s happened.
“He’s going to be furious with you .”
That’s okay. I’ll pay for the damage. This is one time he’ll have to accept my money because it’s all my fault .
I stare at the ground, practicing yoga breathing techniques to calm my ass down.
It’s going to be okay. I’ve got this. I’ll help him fix the damage. I mounted cabinets last week. I can totally do it again.
But what about mold? How does a saturated cabin dry out in the middle of winter and not grow mold in the floorboards?
Panic slices me in two again.
This might not be a simple fix. It could be a demolition.
“You make everything worse, Grace .”
“No, I don’t.”
“You should never have come here .”
“Shut up.”
“You’ve been a royal pain in Dean’s ass since the moment you stepped foot on his property. You’re just giving him more stress, more work, more headaches .”
“No, I’m not!”
Clamping my gloved hands over my ears, I squeeze my eyes shut and say positive things to myself to drown out my mother’s voice.
It’s all fixable.
It’s all replaceable.
It was an accident.
It’ll be okay.
Inhaling deeply, I let cold air fill my lungs and exhale strongly to blow my insecurities away.
Then repeat two more times.
In with the good shit, out with the bullshit.
In with the good shit, out with the bullshit.
Alright. I got this.
Just before I turn to head back inside, something catches my attention .
Boot prints.
I bend down to study the closest one. It’s not my boot. The tread’s all wrong. And it’s not big enough to be Dean’s.
Dread clamps around my throat as I follow the prints around the entire porch. Every footstep is perfectly preserved in the light dusting of snow that covers the porch.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Bryson Clyde-Smith. It might be far-fetched but… this can’t be a coincidence.
You’re being paranoid, Grace .
Am I?
You were last night .
Was I?
I calmly pull out my cell and dial Dean.
He answers on the first ring. “You okay?”
“Someone came to my cabin last night.”
The silence lasts for a moment, then… “Get back to my house and stay there.”
“They’re not here anymore,” I quickly say.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, but…” My heart races a mile a minute. “The cabin’s flooded out. I don’t know what happened but the kitchen sink… the whole place is soaked.”
He’s silent for another few heartbeats. “It’s okay,” he says calmly. “Grace, listen to me. There’s a small closet to the left of the fridge.”
I scramble back inside and nearly slip on the icy floor to reach it. “Okay. I’m here.”
“Good girl. Now, see the red valve? Turn it off.”
“It’s stuck. Everything’s half frozen. ”
“It’s okay,” he says, keeping his cool. “Try again for me.”
The sheer amount of determination I have stored up barrels out of me. The nubby valve bruises my fingers and palm from how hard I have to twist it. “Got it!”
“That’s my girl.”
I swear I hear his engine already, which is impossible.
“Now stay put. I’m on my way.”