Excerpt A Mountain Man Christmas Crush
G ene straightened and tried to work the kinks out of his back. He was too damned old to be sleeping on the floor, even on a thin mat in a sleeping bag. He was lucky it wasn’t the dirt or rocks like he had when he was in the military, but damn, he had been fifteen years younger then too and bounced back a helluva lot faster. Bo stared at him from his comfy nest of blankets that he’d made from Gene’s bed, a slightly accusatory look in his eyes.
“Yeah, I know. I could have stayed above Zane’s bar, but you know it would have been too noisy and that fluffy hellion he has there would have tortured the hell out of you for fun. Trust me, she’s no angel and there’s no getting her to purr for anyone but Zane.”
But he might have to reconsider or figure out something more permanent, because sleeping in his workshop for months wouldn’t be a solution. He wouldn’t be able to rebuild the cabin until the snows melted, and that would most likely last until late spring, especially where his land was. And then it would take time to rebuild. He was looking at a good six months or more for a place to stay. He couldn’t impose on anyone for that length of time. So, he was looking at some kind of short-term rental at best, somewhere that wouldn’t trigger his stress at being with people and their noise.
A hard rap on the door to his shop made him pause. He looked at Bo, who lifted his head, yawned and stared at the door. “What kind of guard dog are you?”
He stomped to the door and paused, reminding himself that people were only trying to help. Wanda Moore, Granite Junction’s unofficial welcome committee chair, had already stopped by with some clothes and toiletries. He’d been a bit unfriendly, but she’d been unfailingly polite to him. He owed her an apology. Maybe that rocking chair she’d been eyeing to rock her new grandchild in.
He wasn’t rude, not really. He just enjoyed being alone and his routine. Being around people reminded him of things he couldn’t have anymore.
When he felt like he could be polite and not the town grump, he opened the door, and all of his hard work went right out the door. “What are you doing here?”
Sarah St. James stood on his doorstep, looking so sweet and innocent in her painted-on jeans, showcasing a curvy frame that he adored, a white puff jacket that hid absolutely nothing from his imagination, and the hood with faux fur that framed her round, sweet face. Damn it. He stayed away from her to keep himself from doing anything either of them would regret, and she persisted in following him into the lion’s den.
“You keep following me, little girl, and you’ll get more than you bargained for.”
Her eyes narrowed, a hint of anger in them that only fueled his arousal. “And you keep snapping like a wounded grizzly bear with a thorn in its paw, but we all know that wounded animals often just need a little bit of kindness, and they turn into the sweetest pets.”
“I’m not a lapdog, Sarah. I’m more like that grizzly than a sweet pup.”
At that moment, Bo pushed between them and wiggled in excitement at seeing another human, one who might worship him properly. Her face changed from the irritated woman to a sweet girl and she dropped to her knees and hugged the white and brown pup, who licked her face with enthusiasm. He’d never been so damned jealous of a dog.
He grabbed Bo’s collar and pulled him back. “Get off of her and show some manners, boy. Jeez. You never know where that tongue has been.”
Sarah straightened and fixed her coat, following him into the shop without waiting for an invitation. “A dog’s mouth is cleaner than a human’s, you know.”
He snorted. “A myth, I’m sure. What do you want, Sarah?”
She eyed his workshop and his makeshift bed. He folded his arms in front of himself, refusing to defend himself or his living arrangements for one minute, even as he had the urge to clean up or hide it from her. She was much too fancy for his digs. She didn’t belong here. Hell, even her name was saint-like while he was the devil. At least his thoughts were.
She folded her hands in front of her primly and fixed a firm look on him. “You need a place to stay, and I have plenty of room at my house. Before you protest, your dog is welcome too, of course. I have turned the St. James house into a bed-and-breakfast, so it’s just like staying at Redemption Guest Ranch or the Lodge except I’m not expecting any guests, not until spring. So, you won’t have to deal with any people around except for me. Now, that may be a problem for you or not. But it’s a place to stay, and food, without people around.”
“What makes you think that bothers me?”
Her gaze softened, and he realized her father must have shared some of his past with her. “My father explained you liked your space, which was why he sold you the cabin before his death. He was glad someone loved it as much as he had when he could still use it. I had no use for it, so I was happy it went to you. I don’t get many visitors now that he’s passed, and it’s just me, Della occasionally, and the goats.”
He broke out in a cold sweat at the thought of staying at her house, just the two of them. The temptation of being so close, no one else as a buffer, was too much for him, even as the thought of being far from most crowds and near to nature was attractive.
“You still have those goats?”
She smiled. “I’m making goat’s milk soaps and lotions now. It’s a small thing but keeps the lights on.”
He frowned. The way she said that made him wonder about the state of her finances. Her smile was a little too bright, a little too forced, though it could be from the way they had left things between them, when he had chased her out of his workshop a couple of years earlier.
“I’ll be paying rent to stay there. I can afford it and would be paying anywhere else.” And there it was, a hint of relief in her eyes. There was something going on.
But she was stubborn to the end. “My father cared about you. You were like a son to him. He would want me to open our home to you.”
“He helped me when I had nothing. I am doing well with my art and furniture now, thanks to him. I can afford it.”
And maybe it would assuage the guilt he felt after not checking in on Sarah after her father passed. It had been cowardly, avoiding her because all he wanted to do was kiss her breathless, tear her clothes off and sink into her softness. But she was way too innocent for him. He would destroy her with the darkness in him.
“I have one rule. Don’t come into my room, especially at night. I have nightmares and no matter what you hear, you can’t come in. I could hurt you. This is non-negotiable, Sarah. Stay away.”
Her blue eyes were wide, but she nodded. She stuck out her hand. “Deal.”
He wiped his dirty hands on his jeans and shook hers, the feel of her delicate soft hands going straight to his cock. “I’ll see you later.”
He was going straight to hell.