Chapter 3
Whiskey
Look, I’ve never been that guy that goes for the bad girl. Never thought those spooky horror movies about a beautiful bombshell are all that funny or scary. But this curvy little witch right here? She knocked me on my ass when I walked into my cabin to find her.
My first thought when I saw her was that she was exactly what my life has been missing.
She’s a little magic and a whole lot of mischief wrapped up in one delicious thick-thighed package.
Those hips are straight out of my fantasies, and I want to grip them as I dance with her around this old cabin, the radio playing country love songs.
I want to learn all of her secrets while cuddled up underneath a scratchy blanket as the sun puts on his final encore of the night.
Then I want to wrap her up and hold her all night long.
She can’t stay here, but as I watch Deputy Griffin side with her, I know I’m not getting out of this. I have a roommate for the next month. A very curvy roommate whose skin smells faintly of apples. Sweet, tart, tempting. It has me thinking all sorts of things, like what her lips might taste like.
I’m a washed up Marine. Put a weapon in my hands, and I know what to do. I’m a lumberjack. Put a chainsaw in my hands, and I’ll cut down the entire forest. But put a curvy little witch with her black cat in my cabin, and well, I still know what to do with my hands.
When he leaves, she scowls at me. She’s got straight black hair that barely dusts her shoulders with full, ruby lips that form a perfect pout and beautiful green eyes. The color of rain-soaked moss. A man could spend his whole life staring at her and never catalogue all of her beauty.
“You can stay. For now,” I grunt as I stomp past her onto the porch. I need to move, so I can clear my head. Everything is all scrambled in my brain when I’m standing there breathing in her scent and watching her stare at me with that cute little challenge-me expression on her face.
“I don’t need your permission,” she calls after me, irritation evident in her tone. As if she has any right to be annoyed. I didn’t show up in her home, looking delectable and acting as if I owned the place.
I snap a picture of her car before I leave. Not sure why I do. I think it’s what you’re supposed to do with out-of-towners and strangers who move into your place without notice.
Despite the setting sun, I start down the well-worn path that I walk when my head gets too busy.
It’s always been a noisy place. Got even louder after I served overseas.
Now there are sounds and images that play twenty-four hours a day.
Movies of the worst moments of my life, reminding me I don’t deserve to be here.
Bella falls into step beside me, nudging my hand with her cold nose.
I pause to give my tricolored girl some love.
She’s a Bernese Mountain Dog that adopted me a few months ago.
Not sure what she saw in me but she started coming around during the day.
She’d been all skin and bones. I fed her some good food, and I guess we became friends.
She sleeps with me in the cabin at night but spends most of her time outdoors. When I work in the forest, she’ll often keep me company during the long hours.
“We got a new roommate,” I tell her, the cold air of early autumn burning my lungs. Left my jacket inside because I was eager to get away from that girl. “Two of them, I think. Can’t figure out where they came from for the life of me.”
Bella makes a noise, and that’s when it hits me.
Maybe it’s my brother, Nate. Nate isn’t my biological brother.
He’s another one of Emma May’s foster sons.
She raised five boys and fostered countless others.
Most people don’t know I’m back in town but Nate does and so does my other foster brother, Jasper.
Grabbing my phone, I call Nate. He answers on the fourth ring. “I’ve already donated to the police fund. I don’t need another cable subscription. I have no crushing debt that needs to be consolidated, and for the last time, I do not want to see pictures of your feet.”
“Sounds like you’re having a rough day,” I mutter and feel a twinge of guilt for never checking in with my family.
Sure, I help them out behind-the-scenes in ways they don’t know about, like shoveling Emma May’s walk every winter and keeping her gutters cleaned out.
But that’s not the same as being there for the people I care about.
“I put my name and number on one of those ad site thingies to get me a baker, and all I’m getting is these ridiculous calls,” he says.
In the background, I can hear the soft bubble of pots on his stove boiling.
He makes the best jam in three counties.
Probably four if you count the unincorporated area of Mount Bliss.
An owl hoots in the distance, and I look up to see the moon peeking through the scraggly branches of trees that are losing their inhibitions and shedding their leaves. Autumn is when nature is unafraid of her nakedness.
“What do you mean?” I ask, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. A new possibility I hadn’t considered before starts to form in my mind.
“You do that thing where you go online and you put in your information. You’re looking for a baker or a—”
“A renter for my cabin?” I prompt. The paperwork from the beautiful woman in my cabin looked legitimate. Is it possible she’s the victim of some scam? That would make sense why she’s so confident in her right to stay in my cabin.
“Yeah, if you wanted, you could find one online,” he answers easily.
“That’s the problem. I didn’t find one.”
“Maybe your place is too remote. It’s the only thing I can figure,” he answers. “You offer a person room, board, a living wage, and color TV. What more could they want?”
For a second, I’m about to tease him about the color TV remark.
Sounds like something a seventy-year-old man would boast about.
That’s when it hits me. Maybe he did this.
It wouldn’t be the first time we played practical jokes on each other.
“So, then you did send her. Very funny. Now you can call her and tell her to get out.”
“Tell who?”
“The witch. The black cat was a nice touch. You should tell her that.” It also explains how she knew my name. Well, call me Magnum. Mystery solved.
“Whiskey?” His voice has the note in it when he thinks someone is being ridiculous.
“Yeah?” I’m already trying to think about how I can get even with him.
There’s got to be something that would annoy him.
I could try to prank him for Christmas but instantly dismiss the thought.
I wasn’t here the Christmas that the awful thing happened, but I know people still talk about it regularly.
I’d hate to have the whole town knowing my business like that.
“When you were taking down trees today, did any of them hit you?”
I sputter. “No, course not. I’d remember that. Now, look. Just call her. I didn’t even get her name. But you know her. Call her and tell her to go home.”
“Alright, I’m going to come check on you. We’ll get through this together,” his tone has slipped from annoyed to genuinely concerned.
For the first time since I called, it occurs to me that maybe he didn’t send her my way.
“I’m not imagining her. Hold on, I’ll send you a picture of her car parked in front of my place.
” I pause and send the photo before getting back onto the call.
“I can’t figure out who on earth rented it to her. ”
Nate lets out a whistle when he gets the photo. “That’s some weird stuff. Do you think she’s dangerous?”
I think about the woman who barely comes up to my shoulder. She’s not a petite little thing. She’s taller than most women and plus-size by the world’s standards, but she’s tiny compared to my gigantic frame.
I could pick her up and carry her around if I wanted to. The image that fills my head has me choking back a groan. Definitely don’t need to be imagining what it would be like to carry around my annoying-yet-adorable trespasser.
“She’s not dangerous,” I grunt.
“Any chance she bakes?” He asks.
“You’re not getting her,” I snap, unsure of why the idea is making me furious. A man has a right to be protective over his trespasser. He can even think she’s sort of charming when she puts her hands on her hips and tries to act defiant about getting to stay for the month.
“But you want her gone,” Nate points out.
I grunt my agreement. I do. That’s exactly what I want.
I want my quiet life back. I don’t want to spend my time watching her wander around my cabin in that tiny little skirt.
I don’t want to listen to her sing under her breath as she opens a can of premium cat food in my kitchen like she’s been there all her life.
“So, then show her your charming personality. That will scare her off,” he mutters in the teasing way that only a brother can.
I stop walking then, an idea forming. “Scare her off? That’s perfect! I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later next week.”
“Listen, if you need anything—”
I don’t let him finish his sentence before I hang up. I don’t need anything more than to get this curvy woman gone from my cabin. Once I do that, everything can go back to normal in my world.