Chapter 8
Hall
The next afternoon, I drove my truck along the winding mountain road with Cassidy in the passenger seat and a borrowed wrench rattling around in the back.
We’d met with an insurance adjuster this morning and handled the details of her claim. Now we were heading out to the logging camp so I could give Amos his wrench.
I couldn’t believe how easily we’d slipped into a routine together.
Two days, and already her presence felt woven into the fabric of my life.
Our days started with morning coffee on the deck, her chatter filling the silence I’d grown so accustomed to. Then the one-sided conversation continued while she moved around my cabin like she belonged there.
But I knew it was false. We weren’t working right now, and that took the pressure of real life off our shoulders.
This week existed outside of reality. Soon enough, the bubble would pop.
She’d go back to her job in Fernwood, her house would get sorted out one way or another, and I’d be alone again on my mountain.
The thought made my chest tight.
Would I be able to live with the silence once she was gone?
I was hyperaware of her sitting next to me. Karina’s clothes fit Cassidy well, maybe too well.
The jeans she’d borrowed hugged her curves like they’d been painted on, clinging to her hips and thighs in a way that made my mouth go dry.
The way the denim stretched across her ass was practically obscene. I’d been salivating over the view all day, trying not to stare and failing miserably. I liked a woman with some extra padding on her, and Cassidy was made of padding.
Every time she shifted in her seat, I caught the movement from the corner of my eye. I was spending too much time looking at her legs, and not enough at the road.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter and forced my eyes off her thick thighs and back to the windshield in front of me.
“So,” I said, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. I cleared my throat. “Why’d you move into that old farmhouse, anyway? Seems like a lot of work for someone on their own.”
Cassidy was quiet for a moment, looking out the window at the pine trees blurring past. When she spoke, her voice had lost some of its usual brightness.
“I had to get away.”
“From where?” I wasn’t usually one to dig, but the woman had talked about everything under the sun over the last two days. And she hadn’t mentioned anything about where she was from.
“I grew up in a small town in North Carolina called Abeline. It’s small enough that no one’s ever heard of it.”
“Oh.” I glanced at her. “I thought Abeline was a person. The way you talked about it before.”
That got a small smile out of her. “No. Just a town. Population three thousand, give or take. The kind of place where everyone knows everyone, and nothing stays secret for long.”
“Sounds like Red Oak Mountain.”
“A little bit.” She picked at a thread on her jeans.
As my truck bounced over a pothole I asked, “Did you like it there?”
“Actually, yeah, for a long time. My whole life was in that town.”
I heard the “but” hanging in the air. Waited for it.
“Until…” she trailed off, her gaze distant.
“Until what?”
She shook her head. “It’s stupid. Ancient history.”
“Doesn’t sound stupid.” I kept my voice gentle. “Sounds like something that still hurts.”
Cassidy looked at me then, and her expression shifted. I got the feeling she was deciding whether to trust me with something private.
She sighed, and the hurt inside her flowed out. “I left because of Rodney. He was my high school sweetheart.”
It figured a man would be involved.
I grunted in response. Relationship crap could be messy. If she had more to say she’d tell me.
She turned to look out the window, her voice muffled. “We were together for years. Everyone assumed we’d get married. I assumed we’d get married.”
Cassidy let out a bitter little laugh. “Then one night, I thought he was going to propose. He took me to our favorite restaurant. But instead of giving me a ring, he told me it was over. It was our goodbye meal. He said he loved me, but he wasn’t in love with me anymore.”
“Shit,” I muttered. “That’s cold.”
“It gets better.” Her voice had gone flat. “Two years later, he and my best friend announced they were dating. They just got married last spring.”
I felt a surge of anger on her behalf, hot and unexpected. “Your best friend?”
“Since kindergarten.” Cassidy’s hands twisted in her lap. “Marcy swore nothing happened while we were together. And maybe that’s true. But it doesn’t matter, does it? She blew up our friendship over a man.”
“That sucks, Cassidy.” I tried to imagine that happening to me. Amos would never do something like that to me. If I told him I was serious about someone he’d back off.
“So that’s why I left,” she continued. “Every time I saw them around town, holding hands and planning their wedding… I felt like I was suffocating. Like everyone was looking at me with pity. Poor Cassidy. Couldn’t keep her man. Lost him to her own best friend.”
“That’s not on you,” I said firmly. “That’s on them.”
“I know,” she sighed. “But I needed to get out and start fresh where no one knew my history. My parents had inherited this old farmhouse years ago and never did anything with it. When I asked if I could have it, they said yes.” She gestured vaguely at the mountains around us.
“I needed something that was mine. Something that didn’t have Rodney’s stamp on it, or Marcy’s. ”
“And then it caught fire.”
“Yeah. I blew that up, didn’t I?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Story of my life.”
Then her voice dropped to a whisper, “I’ve never dated anyone but Rodney before.”
I wasn’t much for talking about emotions, but there was a question burning inside me that I had to know. “You still in love with him?”
Cassidy blew out a deep breath. “No. I can’t be. My dream man doesn’t fall for my best friend. He’s only got eyes for me.”
I grunted. The woman knew her worth.
Then she finished quietly, “The worst part is wondering if they had feelings for each other while he was still with me.”
We drove in silence for a minute. I wanted to say something to fix it somehow, but words had never been my strong suit. Instead, I found myself telling her a secret, pulling it out from somewhere deep inside me. Where it came from, I had no idea.
“I live alone because I don’t fit anywhere else.”
Cassidy turned to look at me, surprise flickering across her face.
I kept my eyes on the road, feeling exposed. “Never been good with people. It takes me too long to warm up, and by then, most folks have moved on. I’m not quick. Not charming. Definitely not good with women.”
My eyes drifted to her when I said that last part and lingered longer than they should have.
“I think you’re very good with women,” Cassidy said, her voice dropping to something husky that made my blood heat. “At least with me. And last time I checked, I’m a woman.”
My hands tightened on the wheel. The air in the truck felt thick suddenly, charged with something electric.
While I was still figuring out what to say, the logging camp came into view, and I was almost grateful for the distraction.
“We’re here,” I grunted in response.
The camp looked the same as always.
It was just a basic cluster of wooden buildings scattered across a cleared patch of mountain.
There was the shared bunkhouse where Amos and most of the other loggers slept, its wooden walls weathered to gray. Then a mess hall with smoke curling from its chimney. And a communal bathroom off to one side, like you’d see at a campground.
Set apart from the rest was a nicer cabin where the boss, Colt, lived.
I’d been coming here every day for years. But seeing it through Cassidy’s eyes made me notice how rough it all was.
“This is where you work,” she said, looking around with obvious curiosity.
“Yeah,” I pulled the truck to a stop near the bunkhouse and grabbed the wrench. “It’s rough and tumble up here on Red Oak Mountain. Not much to look at.”
“I think it’s fascinating.” She was already climbing out of the truck, taking in the heavy equipment, the stacks of timber, and the muddy paths between the buildings.
Most of the crew was out on the mountain right now, but a few guys lingered around camp. I saw them notice Cassidy, their eyes tracking over her curves in those too-tight jeans.
Heat flared in my chest.
“Come on,” I said, maybe a little too gruffly. “Let’s drop this off and go.”
I led her to the bunkhouse, hyperaware of the eyes following us. Inside, I found Amos’s bunk and dropped the wrench on his mattress. Quick. Simple. Done.
When we walked back outside, one of the younger guys, Pete, was leaning against a post, openly staring at Cassidy.
“Hey, Hall,” he called out, a smirk on his face. “Who’s your friend?”
I put my hand on the small of Cassidy’s back and steered her toward the truck.
“Nobody you need to worry about,” I growled in response.
As we drove away, the unsettling realization hit me.
I was in too deep. Somewhere in the past two days, I’d gotten used to having her in my life. And I didn’t want it to end.