Chapter 15
Sophia
The Runaway Peach
Iwas no stranger to runnin’ from my problems. Hell, I’d done it for years living in Georgia, not to mention the many times in my youth I tried being anywhere else.
Just being back in the state I’d called home for all those years, I felt like a new person.
Like I’d left all my problems behind all over again.
Somehow, all that time living in Georgia, I’d never once been to the northern part where the mountains were. Where Grant had grown up.
“This place is beautiful,” I said the minute we parked in front of a small log cabin. It couldn’t have been more than a thousand square feet, but the land around it was vast enough to see no neighbors. “You own it?”
Grant fit his black Stetson on his head as he hopped out of the truck. “I built it.” He smirked as my jaw fell open. “You thought these hands were only good for tattooing?”
“No.” I was sure his hands were great at other things, too, if what he said about that night had been true. “It’s just…I didn’t picture you growing up somewhere so…”
“Quiet?” He came around and opened the door for me, holding his hand out.
I took it and hopped out, his warmth instantly seeping into my skin.
“I’ve never lived in the cabin. Mostly just use it when I go hunting up here.
” His thumb stroked my hand. I pulled back, my cheeks heating as I realized I’d kept my hand in his for too long.
“I thought you said you grew up here?” I redirected while jamming my hands into my back pockets.
“I did.”
I looked around the land, seeing only the cabin and trees. “What, outside? Or did you build this when you were a baby?” I teased.
“There used to be a mobile home back there.” He pointed toward the treeline where young saplings tangled toward the sun. His tone shifted, growing colder. “I got rid of it and built this instead.”
It sounded like there was a lot more to that story, but with the way his expression had turned to stone, I decided that wasn’t best to ask about right now.
“You wanna make that call now?” Grant asked.
“No, um…” I shook my head slowly. “I think I’d rather see inside first. Unless you’re condemning me to your truck?”
“Why would I go and do a thing like that when there’s a perfectly good bed inside?”
His smile sent butterflies through my stomach. I swallowed all those feelings down. “Because I’m the reason we had to leave Alliston.”
Grant’s brows dipped, making his eyes appear darker. “No you ain’t. No matter who those two incidents were intended to harm, none of it is your fault. You hear?”
“Yeah.” I nodded haphazardly. “Okay.”
The thing was, Grant didn’t know my entire truth. No one but the people involved did. And if he ever found out…well, he’d regret ever helping me. I wasn’t even sure if I was able to be helped anymore. I sold my soul to a monster long ago, and there was no turning back now.
“I’ll get a fire goin’. You wanna go take stock of what food is inside?
Tallulah has a sweet tooth like you so I’m sure there’s plenty of cakes in the pantry.
” Grant held out his keys for me to take.
“It’s the one with the trees printed on it,” he added, then took his hat off and fit it on my head.
Grant grinned as he stepped back. “Take that inside too, for me, would ya?” He winked and turned away before I could point out the claim he’d just staked.
Did he know what that meant or was it different in Florida?
I touched the brim of his hat, breathing in a scent that was growing familiar—warm spices mixed with vanilla. I couldn’t recall any smell soothing me before, but could think of a few that made me want to wretch.
I glanced over my shoulder right as Grant reached for the back collar of his shirt and pulled it off with one tug, then yanked an ax free from a stump.
My core tightened as my gaze tracked the way the muscles along his back flexed and moved, the sun beaming down on the large twin serpents twisted around each other, forming something like a cross on his back.
I ran inside before he could notice me staring at him chopping wood like it was my new favorite hobby, my thoughts getting dirtier by the second as he worked.
Hugging my arms around my chest, I stood in the small foyer and took everything in.
To my left was a green loveseat barely large enough for two, taking into account Grant’s size without someone beside him.
It sat across from a stone fireplace with a set of large antlers hanging above it.
In the center of the back wall was the kitchen, spanning just a few counters wide with one tall cabinet at the end beside a set of french doors.
A small wooden table with two chairs was placed in front of the doors, allowing light to pour over the knots and grooves of the tabletop before settling on the floorboards.
To my right was a wall of shelves filled to the brim with sculptures and books, a door between that and a wall of photos and drawings that flooded the other half.
I assumed the door led to a bedroom, but wasn’t ready to look in there just yet.
I was too in awe knowing Grant had used his hands to build this place himself.
I walked toward the back doors and opened them wide, letting the fresh air inside.
“Peach, why don’t you turn that on?” I jumped at Grant’s voice as he carried a bundle of wood in his arms up the few steps leading to the back deck.
I was about to ask what he was talking about when he gestured with his chin to the side where a hot tub sat in the far corner.
“It gets cold up here at night. Should only take a few hours to warm up enough.” He walked behind me and lifted the hat from my head, balancing the haul of wood on one, rippling forearm. “Thanks for keeping it safe.”
Safe was the last thing I wanted to be around him.
So far, he’d kept his promise, going above and beyond keeping me safe.
Somethin’ inside me burned to see what he was like when he wasn’t trying so hard to protect people.
If what he’d said about my preferences being like his were really true or not.
With every passing second being in Grant’s orbit, I was starting to care less and less about my obligations and the ring that’d been off my finger for days.
I set the temp on the hot tub and distracted my eyes with the food in the pantry instead of the eye candy behind me starting a fire.
“Lots of snacks.” I grabbed several bags of chips and cookies and checked the backs. “Nothing seems expired.”
“I was just here a few months ago,” Grant replied, keeping his focus on the flame he was stoking.
“Hunting?”
“Not that time.”
“Oh,” I whispered, feeling my stomach sink. Did he bring someone else up here? Was this something he did to swoon other women into his bed?
Broad hands settled on my shoulders and I melted at the contact. “With my sister. Christmas vacation, just us two, darlin’.”
Oh. “None of my business,” I said, leaning forward to dig through the back of the pantry.
Grant slid his hands down to my waist. “It’s not?”
“No.” I shuffled harder, pushing bags, cans, and boxes aside. “Why would it be?”
“Do you want it to be?”
I grabbed a box of pasta and spun in his arms, pushing it into his chest. His jaw worked as his hands fell from my sides. “Here. This should work for dinner. I’m assuming you have a shower and hot water in this cabin?”
“In the bedroom.” He took the box as I stalked off, feeling his eyes on me until I shut the door.
I groaned into my palms, trying to stop imagining ripping the door back open and diving into his arms, ripping his pants off, and letting him fuck me against every surface.
Ovulation wasn’t the friend I needed right now.
No, what I needed was a swift swig, or five, of whatever amber liquid was in the glass decanter set out on a small table in the corner.
Maybe taking a full glass into the shower would warm my body up enough to not wish I could remember the night he came in his pants beside me.
The night he started calling me Peach for reasons I really shouldn’t think about.
I poured a glass while the shower heated up. As I took a long sip, I assured myself one glass of bourbon wouldn’t hurt.