Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Dash
It wasn’t Brutus.
Thank the fucking gods it wasn’t the grizzly, or my supplies would likely have been raided before I ever reached the landing pad to haul them back to the watch tower.
I know better than to fuck with the big guy, but had he gotten his sharp mitts on my cupcake stash from the Cinnamon Creek Bakery, I might have gone a little stupid with rage.
“I offered to help you,” Stormi points out, sitting cross-legged on my bed, Blaze curled up next to her, as I set the last crate inside and close the door.
She’s still wearing her yellow jacket since I’ve been too stubborn to light the wood stove, but it’s easy enough to imagine the curvy beauty out of it. Easy enough to picture her naked and tangled in my sheets.
Fuck, where did that come from?
“That’s the last of it,” I say, turning away. Only three more hours before the chopper comes back to get her. I can handle being alone with her and being a respectable gentleman for three hours.
I hope.
“How often do you get supplies dropped off?” she asks, reminding me that she signed up for a tour.
I’m supposed to be the guide, explaining the whole manning a fire tower experience.
Winnie will no doubt ask her for feedback the moment she gets back to the lodge.
Though the woman who’s like a grandma to many of us in Cinnamon Creek understands me better than most, she would be disappointed by just how standoffish I’ve been.
I don’t want to be the reason the lodge gets a bad rap.
I can be a better host.
“Supplies are delivered every couple of weeks or so, depending on my needs and whether or not I have visitors.”
“Visitors besides the tours?”
“I only take tours one day a week.”
I lift the sought after bakery box from one of the crates and set it on the writing desk that takes up residence in a corner of my square, one-room tower.
I’m eager to discover what magical concoctions Ivy has cooked up.
Her fall cupcakes are my favorite, not that I’d ever admit to a soul that I live for pumpkin spiced baked goods in the fall.
“But sometimes my family comes to stay with me,” I add.
“You have family?”
“Does that surprise you?”
“Yes.”
I study the half dozen cupcakes, noticing there are two of each flavor: snickerdoodle, caramel apple, and pumpkin cheesecake.
“Do you have family?” The question is meant to deflect. I love my family, but I keep my distance for a reason. A reason I don’t want Miss Sunshine trying to uncover during her short visit.
“My sister’s back at the lodge,” she explains, eagerly picking out a cupcake—caramel apple. “With any luck, my stepsister’s stranded in Cancun without a way home.” She adds that last part in a mutter under her breath.
I want to ask about this stepsister, but I catch the question before it rolls off my tongue. I don’t do fucking small talk. I can feign interest in people’s lives for the very brief time they’re here, but this isn’t that.
I want to know more about Stormi Winters.
I want to know everything about her.
And that fucking irritates me.
I’ve kept people out for most of my life. It’s how I’ve always operated. Getting too close to anyone—especially a woman—has never ended well for either of us.
“Oh my god, this is amazing,” Stormi practically sings, those bright blue eyes going wider after her first bite.
“See why I was willing to fight a bear?”
“Fight a bear—” Her gazes snags on mine, and she playfully rolls her eyes. “There was no bear, was there Blaze?”
“Not this time.”
“What was it anyway?” she asks.
“Probably just a squirrel.”
Stormi glances at Blaze, who’s staring at her as though she hung the moon. It might have something to do with the cupcake in her hand. Or maybe he’s just fallen that hard and fast for her. Seems like it would be easy to do.
“Does he always growl at squirrels?”
“Only the ones that go out of their way to taunt him.”
“Seems fair.” She scratches him behind the ears, slipping him a treat from the stash in her pocket.
“I hope you don’t mind that I’m sitting on your bed.
I probably should’ve asked first, but you were busy being too stubborn to accept help, and well, this spot has the best view in the whole tower.
Even if it’s been overcast this whole time. ”
She’s not wrong.
But from where I’m sitting, I have the best view now.
Long after she gets on a chopper and heads back to wherever she came from, I’ll picture her sitting cross legged on my bed.
My cock begins to harden, promising it’ll need a release tonight.
I’ll jack off to the memory of those bright eyes peering up at me.
In my fantasy, they’ll be looking up at me from the cock shoved into her pretty little mouth.
“Oh look!” she says, popping up from the bed, Blaze at her heel. “The sun’s trying to come out.”
“You have seen the sun before, right?” I tease, mostly because I want to see her roll those baby blues at me again.
“I want a picture,” she insists, stripping out of her jacket and leaving it on my bed.
My imagination has run rampant imagining the body she’s been hiding beneath the offensive yellow coat, but I’m not prepared for all the fucking curves. I’m salivating, and it has nothing to do with Ivy’s cupcakes.
“You need to take off your coat to take a picture?”
“Yes,” she answers, as though that clears everything up. I watch as she whisks out the door, a soft blue shirt fitted to her curvy figure and tucked into a pair of high-waisted skinny jeans I’d love nothing more than to peel from her long legs, one at a time, as I kneeled before her and—
“Can you take my picture?” she calls to me from the balcony.
“Sure.” I toss the last bite of my pumpkin cheesecake cupcake into my mouth and follow her outside, rounding the balcony to the west side. I catch her positioning her braid over one shoulder, then the other, as though she can’t quite make up her mind.
“Ready, Miss Sunshine?”
“Take a few,” she says, handing me her phone, unbothered by my nickname. Hmm, maybe it’s not the first time she’s heard it. For some reason, that irritates me. As though I have some claim on that pet name when it comes to her.
Our fingers graze, ever so slightly as I take the phone from her.
Spending countless months in this fire tower watching the weather, I’m familiar with the crackling sound lightning makes when it strikes.
I swear I hear it now, as I take her phone.
But it’s not a real strike, out in the mountains.
It’s an invisible jolt of electricity between us from the light but undeniable brush of skin on skin.
Fuck.
What was that?
“Take a few,” she says, adjusting her mouth to fix a smile in place.
I can think of a few ways to make her smile without having to pose. Ways that involve her calling out my name as I make her come harder than she’s ever come before. The sated smile that would grace her lips when she comes down from the high I gave her.
My cock begins to harden, and I quickly snap a couple of pictures before a full-on tent is pitched in my fucking pants for her to see.
“Let me see them,” she says, grabbing for the phone. Her tit brushes the side of my arm, and my gaze zeroes in on the hard nipples poking through the thin fabric. I immediately note two things. One: she’s cold. Two: I’d give my very last cupcake to suckle those pebbled nipples.
I need to get away from her.
Now.
“These are no good,” she says, shaking her head. “Can you take—”
“I need to get some firewood,” I call back to her, already halfway down the stairs before she can finish her sentence, desperate to put some distance between us before I do something stupid, like fuck her senseless on the balcony for Mother Nature and Brutus to witness.