Trick or Treat with the Mountain Man (Fall For A Mountain Man #20)

Chapter 1

Tyler

When I moved to Red Oak Mountain, I thought I was buying trees, trees, and more trees.

That and a quiet, secluded life in the woods where no one would bother me.

The real estate agent hadn’t mentioned the house out of sight and just over the hill, where they had frequent, loud parties.

I never would have bought this rickety cabin on a remote plot of land at the tippy-top of the mountain if I’d realized there were neighbors so close.

Tonight’s party was louder than usual.

My shoulders reflexively tightened as another volley of fireworks shot off into the sky.

Who the fuck sets off fireworks for Halloween, anyway?

I rolled my shoulders, trying to relax them.

This was going to be a bad night. I knew it already.

Which is why I headed to the kitchen to get a refill for my whiskey tumbler.

It wasn’t common for me to drink these days. But when I got like this, it was the only thing that took the edge off.

I gritted my jaw as another volley of fireworks exploded nearby. There was a light sheen of sweat on my brow and an almost imperceptible tremble in my hands. I tried to ignore my racing heart, while every cell in my body screamed that I needed to get away.

Against my will, I was transported back to the night everything changed in my life. Enemy fire directed right at us. The helicopter crashing down. The aftermath of that experience. Everything I’d done. Everything I’d seen.

My throat tightened as I started to descend straight into the familiar rhythm of a PTSD panic attack.

But then I heard a different sound. Tread on gravel.

Someone was coming… here.

And that was a problem, because I never had company. And I preferred it that way.

I turned off all the lights in the house, grabbed my shotgun, and looked out the peephole. A small sedan had pulled into the driveway.

In the dark, I couldn’t make out the color, but it looked shiny, like it was silver or gold or one of the hundred permutations of those two colors that car manufacturers liked to come up with.

As I watched, a shadowed figure emerged from the car and started walking with determination straight to my front door.

What are they holding?

I tightened my grip on the gun.

Then I saw the outline of rounded hips and realized it was a woman.

Sometimes it was hard to trust again. The military can do that to you.

But why would I trust a person—no, scratch that—a woman who was walking up my porch steps after dark holding a suspicious package late on Halloween night?

My panic attack started to fade as I took her in, distracted by the curvy diva who didn’t appear to have much clothing on.

What the hell is she wearing?

The cat ears were obvious, even in the dark. But was that… a leotard?

She wasn’t wearing pants. Just some colored pantyhose that matched the leotard.

The woman was full-figured with all her round areas completely on display.

Although as I studied her, I had to admit what she was doing to that leotard was rather interesting indeed. She filled every inch of it, and then some. Parts of her spilled out of it in such a way that I wished the peephole on my door had a magnifying glass attached to it.

My cock quietly rose at the sight of her. It didn’t want privacy. It wanted to find out what this woman was doing here, and if she wanted to come in and play for a while.

She knocked lightly on the door.

It was so quiet I could have easily missed it if I wasn’t attuned to listening for danger.

When I didn’t answer, she knocked louder, then hollered out, “Trick or treat!”

This was no little girl. This was an adult woman. So what business did she have driving down a dirt country driveway for an eighth of a mile, then knocking on a man’s door when he was two whiskeys down and susceptible to a woman’s wicked ways?

I worked to unlock my jaw as another blast of fireworks went off. Then, I turned on the porch floodlights. That should scare her off.

Because no matter what my cock thought, I knew better than to answer the door.

Watching through the peephole, I saw her recoil as the bright lights flashed on. Then she held up her hand to shield her eyes.

“Hello?”

Now that the light was on, I could see that she was stunning. She might have been in her late twenties. And she had the most gorgeous eyes I’d ever seen, framed by long auburn hair.

She was indeed wearing a leotard, along with pantyhose and an open jacket slung over her shoulders.

I tried to make out what was in her hands, but she was standing too close to the door.

“What do you want?” I growled through the closed door.

“Oh, hi! You are home. I thought you were. I saw lights as I was driving up. I’m Ava.”

This one was a chatterbox.

Just what I didn’t need.

“What do you want, Ava?” I repeated my question, trying to get her focused.

“Me? It’s Halloween. And, uh, do you think we can talk with the door open? You know, face to face? Sometimes people do that, and it feels a little friendlier that way.”

“I’m not in a friendly mood, Ava. So let’s keep the door shut.”

Her eyebrows popped up. “Oh, well… I came by to offer you a treat. You know. Trick or treat? I’ve got the treat version right here in my hands.”

My gaze skittered down. I still couldn’t see what was in her hands, but I could see the ample cleavage she had on display. Miss Kitty wasn’t leaving anything to the imagination, and it might have been too long since I’d thought about a woman in this way, because my dick hardened further.

I whipped my eyes back up to her face, even though she couldn’t see where I’d been looking.

“Step back,” I ordered. “Three paces.”

“Three paces? I feel like I’m in a western right now. Are we about to have a gunfight?” she asked cheerfully as she took a few steps back.

Now I could see the wide curve of her hips, too. Oh, man. Why would a woman drive out to my cabin wearing a teeny, tiny little outfit like that?

Nothing good was going to come of this.

“Hold up the package,” I grunted through the door.

She lifted it in her hands. “It’s just some treats for Halloween. I’m doing reverse trick-or-treating this year.”

My brow furrowed. “Aren’t you a little old to be out trick-or-treating?”

“Never insult a lady’s age. Didn’t your mama teach you that?”

I sighed. This woman was either clinically insane, or she was some kind of neighborhood welcome committee.

The package in her hands was actually a small bowl. Inside it, there were a handful of traditional Halloween candies. There were mini candy bars, a pack of Nerds, candy corn, and right in the middle was a huge package of what looked like cookies wrapped up in cellophane.

They looked homemade.

I started drooling at the sight of them. How many years had it been since I’d had homemade chocolate chip cookies?

“Are those cookies?” I asked.

She stared at the peephole, smiling at it. “Yeah. I baked them myself. They’re supposed to be monsters. See the little eyes? Oh, I guess you can’t see them from there.”

“Are they chocolate chip?”

“Yeah. Would you like one?”

I found myself drawn to unlock my door. But caution told me that I should wait.

“You eat one first. The middle one.”

“You want me to eat one of the cookies?”

“Yep.” Couldn’t be too safe these days. I mean, the chances that this pretty woman was trying to deliver drugged cookies to me weren’t very likely, but it was always best to be cautious.

“If I do that, will you open the door?”

I peered past her towards the car, trying to see if anyone was lying in wait, maybe hunched down in the backseat or slouched low in the passenger seat. But it looked empty from my angle.

So I said, “Yep.” It might have been the whiskey talking. Or my cock throwing a riot.

It’s not every day that a sexy catwoman shows up on your doorstep offering homemade cookies.