Snowed In With the Grump (Mountain Men & Curvy Girls #1)

Chapter 1

Lucy

My poor little Honda Civic wasn't made for mountain roads like this, especially not during what was quickly becoming the storm of the century.

Well, it was the storm of the century in my eyes, because I was in the middle of it. I have to admit, I do exaggerate a little sometimes. Just a little, but doesn’t everyone?

The engine made a concerning whining sound...one I hadn’t heard before...so that was a new worry to add to all my other woes. As I guided it through another curve, my knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

"Come on, just a little further," I muttered, as if sweet-talking her would somehow keep her running. "We can do this."

We could not, in fact, do this.

The engine gave one final protest before dying completely, leaving me stranded on a snow-covered road in the middle of nowhere, Colorado.

Perfect.

Just perfect.

I pulled out my phone, and...you guessed it. Fuck. No signal. Because of course not.

This was exactly the kind of luck I'd been having lately, starting with walking in on my fiancé and my maid of honor doing some very unmaid -like things in our apartment.

And I’m sure you want to know what unmaid -like things are...because even the nicest of people tend to rubberneck a car crash, don’t they?

And this was a car crash situation for me, for sure.

I won’t go into too many details, but visualize this:

Him on his back.

Her squatted over him.

His cock buried inside her.

They didn’t even see me as I stopped dead at the open door, staring in horror, my mouth hanging open and fury building from the depths of my being.

I had the urge to slap the bitch across the back of the head, but in a rare moment of clarity, I thought... Fuck this. Fuck them. Fuck you, Brady. You’re not good enough for me, and I hope she’s got crabs.

I stepped back and started packing.

I wasn’t quiet. I didn’t care. Within seconds of me stomping around, Brady came into the room where I was stuffing things into a bag and said, somewhat sheepishly, “Hey, babe. You’re home early.”

I didn’t even look up.

“A little too early, it seems. But don’t stop because of me. Samantha’s got two more holes she might like filled.”

“It’s not what you think...” he started.

“Oh, fuck off,” I said. “Even if I wasn’t thinking, I can’t unsee your cock buried in her pussy.”

Then I called out to Samantha, “I can throw some water on the stove if you’ve got time for tea.”

“Really?” my dumbass fiancé said.

I did look at him then...with a what-the-actual-fuck look and a shake of my head.

“Oh,” was all he said.

And yeah, I felt like a real fool for ever having hooked up with someone like that. I guess I really didn’t know him.

Now, as I sat in a dead car with tears rolling down my face, I wondered what I had ever done to deserve this. Him. This. Bad fucking luck, time and time again.

Brady told me over and over that he loved my curvy self. And I believed him. But seeing bottle-blonde, clip-on tits Samantha on top of him like that? It felt like a lie. And I felt... fat.

I wiped my tears away because...they weren’t doing me any good, and no one could see them to offer me sympathy. Not that I wanted sympathy.

Well, let’s be honest since you probably already know... yes, I wanted sympathy. A whole fuckload of sympathy, and I wanted it now.

I wanted strong, safe, trustworthy arms wrapped around me and someone I could believe when they said they liked what they saw. Me.

And then the god of shit-happenings must have realized that Lucy Dixon didn’t deserve the poo sandwich he’d been serving me daily for far too long...and gave me a morsel of hope.

Through the thickening snow, I spotted what looked like smoke rising from a chimney. A cabin...thank god. I grabbed my purse and the emergency blanket from my trunk, then started trudging through the knee-deep snow.

By the time I reached the cabin's front porch, I was shivering so hard my teeth were chattering. I knocked on the solid wooden door, praying whoever lived here wasn't an axe murderer.

The door swung open, and...

Oh. OH.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

I just about dropped to my knees to thank God for all the shit He’d... She’d... served me so far in life, only to see the earth-god standing before me.

I lined up all the heroes in the spicy romance books I’d read, and not one of them looked like this mountain man. This god of the forest. This woodsman.

He filled the entire doorframe...six and a half feet of broad-shouldered, flannel-wearing man, with a beard that would make Paul Bunyan jealous and dark eyes that could make a moose weak at the knees.

"What." It wasn't even a question, just a gruff statement of annoyance.

Oh, fuck. He already doesn’t like me. Figures. What the fuck, I’m here, and he needs to save me whether he likes it or not, because it is so fucking cold. If he didn’t let me inside...and fast...he’d have a frozen corpse to deal with, and that would be more trouble than I was worth.

"Hi," I managed through chattering teeth. "My car broke down, and I was hoping I could use your phone? Or maybe just warm up for a minute?"

He looked me up and down, his expression somewhere between irritated and concerned. "You're not dressed for this weather."

I glanced down at my city boots and wool peacoat. "I wasn't planning on hiking through a blizzard today."

He sighed, the sound so deep it was almost a growl. He was a bear. That was it. A big, beautiful bear dressed like a man.

“Get in before you freeze to death. I don't need that on my conscience."

I slipped past him into the cabin, and the warmth from his fireplace hit me like a wave. The cabin was surprisingly cozy...all wood and warm light, with a massive stone fireplace dominating one wall.

"Thank you," I said, turning to face him. "I'm Lucy, by the way."

"Didn't ask." He shut the door firmly against the wind. "Phone's dead. Storm took out the lines."

"Oh." I tried not to let my disappointment show. "Well, I appreciate you letting me in anyway, Mr...?"

He crossed his arms, making his biceps bulge against the flannel. I’m sure if he flexed them, it would rip.

"Griffin."

"Just Griffin?" I asked.

"Just Griffin,” he said.

"Right. Well, Just Griffin, I promise I won't be a bother. Once the storm dies down a bit, I'll..."

"Storm's not dying down,” he said as he moved past me to stoke the fire, and I caught a whiff of pine and something distinctly male. "Weather report said it's getting worse. You're stuck here till morning, minimum."

My stomach dropped. "Oh no, I couldn't possibly..."

"You could possibly freeze to death instead." He straightened up, fixing me with those intense eyes. "Your choice."

I hugged myself, partly from cold and partly from the way his gaze seemed to see right through me. "When you put it that way..."

He grunted and disappeared into what I assumed was the kitchen, returning moments later with a steaming mug. "Here. Coffee."

"Thank you." Our fingers brushed as I took the mug, and I swear I felt a spark. His hand jerked back like he'd felt it too.

"You're dripping on my floor," he pointed out.

I looked down to see my wet clothes had indeed created a small puddle. "Sorry! I can..."

"Bathroom's through there." He pointed to a door. "I'll find you something dry to wear."

"Oh, you don't have to..."

"Rather not have you catch pneumonia in my cabin." He disappeared into another room, returning with what looked like a flannel shirt and sweatpants. "They'll be big."

I took the clothes, trying not to think about wearing his things. "Thank you. You're nicer than you want to appear, you know."

His expression darkened. "Don't get used to it."

In the bathroom, I changed quickly, rolling up the sleeves and pant legs several times. His clothes smelled like the forest, with a hint of woodsmoke and...the kind of skin that forgets what cologne is but still carries the musk of a beast on heat.

And that’s what I did...I buried my face in a handful of flannel and inhaled like a woman starved, sucking in the scent of him so deep it lit something wild in my belly and sent it crawling low through my body.

When I emerged, he was sitting in an armchair by the fire, determinedly not looking at me.

"Better?" he asked, still staring at the flames.

"Much." I settled onto the couch, tucking my legs under me. "So... do you always take in strays, or am I special?"

He finally looked at me, and something flickered in his eyes that made my breath catch. "Don't get cute."

"Too late," I said before I could stop myself. "I'm always cute."

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but I swore I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. "You're trouble is what you are."

"Says the grumpy mountain man who lives alone in the woods."

"I'm not grumpy." He sounded distinctly grumpy. "I just like my solitude."

"Which I'm thoroughly disturbing,” I added.

"Yes."

"And yet you let me in."

He stood abruptly. “I had no choice.”

“Don’t they say we always have choices?” I replied.

“I don’t know who they are, but sometimes we just don’t.”

Then he added, “Going to check the generator. Make yourself useful and don't touch anything."

As he stalked out, I couldn't help but smile. For someone who claimed to hate company, he sure was interesting company himself.

And if I had to be stranded somewhere, well... there were worse places to be than stuck with a gorgeous grump who looked at me like I was simultaneously the most annoying and intriguing thing he'd seen in a while.