Chapter 18
CLAIRE
“After you, sunshine.” Corey holds the front door, and as I step inside, my mouth drops open.
Wait, this isn’t just a cabin. It’s a five-star hotel that someone dropped into the middle of a mountain and wrapped in timber.
“Is this what they call glamping?” I spin in a slow circle, excited. “Because if so, I’ve been doing outdoors wrong my entire life.”
He chuckles behind me. “The property owners run a few lodges up here. Different tiers. We’re on the Wolfden package.”
“Oh?”
“Named for the wolves that roam these mountains.” He drops his backpack by the door. “Kitchen’s fully stocked, fireplace is already going, and there’s a hot tub through the back room.”
I’m nodding, gobsmacked, and taking in the huge living room.
Vaulted ceilings crisscrossed with exposed timber beams, the wood dark and honey-stained.
A stone fireplace dominates the far wall, flames already crackling behind the glass, and two deep leather couches face it in an L-shape, draped in thick woven blankets.
A flat screen is mounted above the mantel.
The floor is polished hardwood scattered with sheepskin rugs, and the walls are decorated with framed photographs of the mountain, the valley, the coastline below—black and white, moody, beautiful.
Behind the living space, the kitchen opens up.
Dark granite countertops, a gas stovetop, a large fridge, and a window above the sink that frames the forest outside, the trees so close their branches almost brush the glass.
Everything is warm, golden, designed to make you feel held by the mountain instead of exposed to it, and I am loving it.
I drift past the kitchen toward the short hallway and find the bedroom at the end and another two doors that seem to lead to a bathroom and outside.
A king-size bed sits against the back wall, low-framed, draped in white linen and a heavy charcoal throw.
The headboard is rough-hewn timber. Huge windows stretch across two walls, blinds open, and the view is insane.
Forest on one side, dense and dark and layered.
On the other, the mountain drops away, and the sea beyond it stretches silver to the horizon in the far distance.
One bedroom. One bed. Wait a minute! There are no other rooms.
I glance back. Corey’s in the doorway, hands gripping the top of the frame, leaning into it, his biceps flexed, grinning at me with the subtlety of a man who planned this.
“The other lodges have multiple bedrooms,” he explains. “But this was the only one available.”
“I’m sure you’re devastated.”
“Crushed.”
“Well.” I push past him, my shoulder brushing his chest, and the contact sends a bolt through me. “I hope the couch is comfortable enough for you.”
“Interesting assumption,” he says behind me, his voice dropping. “Bold, too.”
I keep strolling so he can’t see my smirk.
The bathroom is large, tiled in dark slate, with a rainfall shower behind frameless glass and a claw-foot tub I want to climb into immediately and never leave. Then the last room that I assumed headed outside stops me.
Three walls of glass or clear Perspex, floor to ceiling, completely transparent. The forest presses against the glass on all sides, branches and ferns and dappled light. In the center, sunk into a timber deck, a Jacuzzi, already filled, steam curling from the surface.
“That’s for later,” Corey states from behind me. His breath moves across the nape of my neck, and I grip the doorframe.
“Is this a good idea?” I murmur.
“Depends on your definition of good.”
I turn, and he’s super close. His scent is everywhere in my space, brown sugar and spearmint, and my body responds with a surge of warmth so intense my knees almost buckle.
“Sounds perfect,” I say, holding his gaze, and the words come out breathier than intended.
I pivot and step back to the living room.
I crash onto the couch in front of the fire and stretch my arms above my head.
“I could stay here forever,” I call out.
“This is my future home. Forget everything. I’m living on a mountain. ”
“How about first we fill that stomach, then you can stake your claim?” He’s already in the kitchen, pulling a wicker picnic basket from behind the counter, and I sit up so fast I nearly fall off the couch.
“Oh my God. Did they make that for us?”
“Sure did.” He’s transferring packed items from the fridge into it, and I’m on my feet, crossing the kitchen, trying to peer inside.
He angles his body to block me, chuckling. “Surprise.”
“I’m terrible with surprises. I need to know.”
“You need to wait.” He shuts the basket and grabs a blanket from the dining chair, tucks it under his arm, lifts the basket, and nods toward the door. “Now let’s go.”
We head outside, where the sun is casting golden shadows through the trees, the air fresh and birds chirping all around us. I stand on the porch for a moment and just breathe, staring at the wildflowers dotting the landscape.
“Can we stay here and forget the rest of the world exists?” I ask.
Corey stops on the path ahead of me and turns, giving me that sinful smile. “If that’s what you want, I’ll make it happen, sunshine.”
My heart clenches, and I hurry after him before it shows on my face.
He leads me around the side of the cabin, away from the arrival path, and into the woods on a narrow trail. The trees close in, dappled green and gold, and I spot a rabbit bolting between the ferns, a squirrel spiraling up a trunk. The trail opens into a small clearing on the edge of the mountain.
The view drops away into layered valleys, mountain ridges receding into blue haze. Corey’s already spreading the blanket in a perfect spot, and I’m swooning over the whole picnic thing. No one has ever done this for me before.
Corey removes his boots and socks and wiggles his toes in the grass. I do the same, and the cool softness under my bare feet is heaven.
“The property owners live up here somewhere,” he explains. “They keep the grounds immaculate. If you need anything, they’ll bring it within the hour.”
“Impressive.”
“Wait until you see what’s in here.” He unlatches the basket and starts pulling items out.
A wooden board. Cured meats, cheeses, olives, sundried tomatoes, sliced figs, baguettes.
Then neatly cut triangle sandwiches on thick bread with various fillings.
A container of strawberries and grapes. A small pot of honey.
Crackers, hummus, a jar of cornichons, and brownies. Two glass bottles of sparkling water.
“Okay,” I say. “I’m never leaving.”
We spread it between us and eat. He stacks a cracker with cheese, honey, and fig and holds it out to me. I lean forward and take it from his fingers with my teeth, and the honey drips on my chin. He laughs and wipes it off with his thumb. The contact burns through me, but I pretend I’m fine.
I’m not fine. A deer appears at the edge of the clearing, doe-eyed, still. We both freeze. It watches us for five seconds, then turns and vanishes into the trees.
“This place is magic,” I whisper.
“Knew you’d love it,” he says, helping himself to more food. We’re clearly both hungry, as we keep at it, barely talking, until Corey lies back on the blanket and puts his head in my lap, just like that. His eyes close, and his face, tipped up toward mine, catches the late sun.
“Grapes,” he says, opening his mouth.
“I see,” I say, grabbing one and then dropping it in.
He catches it, chews, grins. “Luckiest man in the world right here.”
I laugh as he opens his mouth for another. I place it on his tongue, and his lips close around my fingertip for a fraction of a second. My whole body shudders.
“So,” he says, chewing, eyes still closed. “Did you know Mistberry Cove has a whole mythology thing?”
“Norse stuff. I’ve heard bits.”
His eyes open, staring up at me. “When I was researching the area before we moved, I found all this old folklore. The locals tie the town’s name to the mist that rolls off the water, but some of the older families connect it to the Norns.
The three figures in Norse mythology who sit at the base of Yggdrasil and weave fate. ”
“Three figures weaving fate.” I feed him another grape. “Three Alphas who moved in next door. Very subtle, universe.”
He grins. “But the mountains have a story too. There’s a local legend that these peaks were sacred to Fenrir.”
“The wolf?”
“The giant wolf bound by the gods because he was too powerful to run free. Some think the wolves in these mountains are descendants of Fenrir’s bloodline, and that’s why they’re bigger, smarter, and more territorial than wolves anywhere else in the region.”
A chill runs through me despite the sun. “So the Wolfden package isn’t just a cute name.”
“Nope. And it gets better. There’s a fringe theory that Vikings might have reached Mistberry Cove.
Research says they only made it as far as Canada, but some local historians think the Norse seafarers pushed farther south along the coast, and that these mountains were used for bonding rituals.
And when Fenrir had supposedly been drawn to the place. ”
“You’re telling me we’re having a picnic on an ancient Viking bonding ground.”
“Allegedly.”
“I didn’t know you were a history buff.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet.” He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers trail along my jaw, and I shiver despite the warmth. “That’s the fun part.”
I feed him one more grape, then he catches my wrist, presses his lips to my pulse point, and releases me.
The touch lasts two seconds, but I feel it for twenty.
My fingers curl uselessly at my sides, and I stare at his mouth like I’ve forgotten how normal people behave.
The fire within me returns in a slow, merciless wave, rolling through my stomach and settling lower, heavier, until the picnic blanket beneath me suddenly feels too small and Corey feels far too close.
His gaze dips to my pulse in my neck, and his smile turns soft at the edges, but there’s nothing harmless in it. “You okay up there?”