Chapter Five
Kara
It stayed light out late this time of year, but we had spent so much time sorting and reminiscing that the sun was dipping low in the sky. It cast everything in a beautiful orange-and-gold glow—something I never got in the city.
I rummaged around in the cupboard for plates and cutlery, but my eyes caught on the sight out the window.
Grant, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, stood at the grill with single-minded focus as he cooked the steaks.
I bit my lip. The scene felt like it belonged to a different life, one where I didn’t just live here in the peace and quiet, but had a man to share it with.
I shoved away from the counter and shook the thought loose. I couldn’t afford to think like that. I barely knew Grant. Even if he had Uncle Walt’s—and Tuck’s—stamp of approval, he was still technically the enemy.
I gathered the dishes in one hand and two beers in the other and headed for the door. Tuck lay sprawled across the threshold, doggy eyes glued to where Grant was transferring the meat and potatoes to a plate.
“Tuck, why are you being a roadblock?” I said, taking an exaggerated step over his big, fluffy body.
He shifted just as I had one leg on either side of him, trying to shove his nose toward the plate in my hand.
I shifted my weight to one leg, trying to keep my balance even as his wiggly dog body fought to sniff what was in my hands.
I moved my arms above my head and out of his reach, but that just made the balance issue worse.
Grant moved faster than you’d expect a big, burly mountain man to move and caught me around the waist. With my arms up, our bodies were close. Closer than they needed to be. Maybe not as close as I wanted them to be.
I could smell smoke from the barbecue clinging to his shirt. I could feel the heat of his body where his chest pressed against mine.
“Careful,” he said, his voice betraying that maybe he wasn’t as calm as he wanted to be.
I nodded. “You’ve been feeding him scraps, haven’t you?”
One side of his mouth quirked up. “Never.”
“Liar.”
His eyes dropped from mine to my lips and back again. I resisted the urge to wet my suddenly dry lips—or worse, to close the distance between us. The moment felt too familiar, too domestic, and it messed with my head.
An image of my ex came to my mind and settled in, thick and heavy.
Toward the end of my marriage, living with him had felt like living with a stranger.
My life, my routine, even my home had stopped feeling calm or comforting.
I dreaded walking through the door, never knowing what fight he’d be looking to pick.
I knew now, thanks to more than a few therapy sessions, that he’d been trying to make me the villain in his story. Looking to justify his cheating.
Being here, in a place I’d half grown up in, already felt more like home than my actual home had in a long time. That didn’t explain why I hadn’t moved out of Grant’s arms. Then again, it didn’t need explaining. It wasn’t a mystery why I wanted to melt into his touch.
What was a mystery was how easily I could forget about all the legal shit and treat this place—Grant included—like home.
Tuck chose that moment to stand, his nose pointed determinedly toward the plate Grant had set on the table. Whatever spell had settled over us broke. Grant took the plates and beers from my hands and stepped back, saving our dinner in the process.
I blinked a few times to clear my head before moving past Tuck and sitting at the table.
Grant filled my plate first, then his, and reached for the beers. Using Uncle Walt’s trusty bottle opener, he cracked them open and set one in front of me. Cicadas buzzed in the distance, and the forest smelled rich and familiar just yards away.
“I missed this place,” I said, taking a sip.
Grant cut into his steak. “What kept you away? You said you were getting divorced.”
I nodded, spearing a piece of potato and popping it into my mouth.
It was hot, salty, and perfect. “Even before that, I wasn’t getting out here as much as I wanted to.
I got caught up building my graphic design business.
Building a life in the city. Always busy—friends, concerts. Work hard, play hard.”
He nodded, but didn’t comment.
“A part of me must’ve missed the simplicity of this place,” I continued.
“I had a little townhouse in the city. Small yard, small driveway. I spent way too much time building a garden in the backyard just so I’d have a bit of nature.
My ex hated it. He hated that I insisted on shoveling the snow instead of hiring someone.
I even changed my winter tires every November.
” I huffed a laugh. “I could’ve paid someone, but Uncle Walt taught me how, and it felt silly not to. ”
Tuck laid his head on my lap, and I patted his ears absently.
“Guess I was never cut out to be the high-heels, high-maintenance city girl.” I cleared my throat. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”
“Because I get what it’s like to love this place,” he said, shoving a bite of steak into his mouth.
I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. Typical man of few words. I knew he was right.
“How did you end up out here?” I asked. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
He froze with his fork halfway to his mouth, then set it down. “Long story.”
I nodded. “You don’t have to tell me. I get it.”
He shifted in his chair. “I’ve been on my own a long time. Out here, no one really calls you on it. Besides, I’m a logger. Where else would I go?”
I let it rest there. I didn’t need to know where his parents were to understand he’d decided long ago that he was better off alone. Uncle Walt must have been the exception. Tuck, too.
“I know having someone in your space isn’t your first choice,” I said. “And I know we’re on opposite sides of this whole cabin ownership thing. But can we agree to keep it peaceful? At least for the weekend.”
He studied me for a second, then reached his hand across the table. I shook his hand, his grip rough and warm against my palm.
The food was good; the company was better, and the evening was perfect.
As I crawled between the sheets in my late uncle’s room that night, I reflected on the day.
I thought I had cried all the tears I had during my divorce.
Turns out I’d had a few more in reserve.
Once those had dried though, dinner with Grant had been…
nice. Unexpectedly and irritatingly so. With that in mind I decided I was done with the grieving phase and officially moving on to the fresh start I’d been aiming for.
Grant being here was a slight detour on that path, that was all. There was no way Uncle Walt would have written that letter and not updated his will. It didn’t make sense. This place would be mine; it would just take a few days.
Where would Grant go then?
The thought crossed my mind and made my stomach clench. I shook it off. He was a grown man. He had come from somewhere before he moved in here; he could go back. It wasn’t my responsibility.
I rolled onto my other side and tried to sleep. I should have changed the bedding and put my own sheets on, but after crying into Tuck’s fur and then sorting through Walt’s things, I was drained.
Physically and emotionally.
I was supposed to be focusing on my future, but my brain kept skipping back to him.
Yes, to him half-naked in the kitchen, but also to him sitting on the hard cabin floor telling me stories about Walt until I felt human again.
He didn’t have to do that. I almost felt bad about barging in and rearranging his entire life.
Which was a feeling I couldn’t afford right now.
We couldn’t both have what we wanted, and I needed to prioritize myself for once.
A soft whine sounded outside the bedroom door. I lay still and listened.
“Tuck, let her sleep,” Grant murmured.
Another whine.
“I know you want to make her feel better, but not everyone wants a wet dog nose in their face.”
Whine.
“Of course I do. But not everyone does. You can sleep with me instead. How’s that?”
His footsteps moved past my door, followed by the familiar clicking of Tuck’s nails.
Tuck had to be what—ten? He was a Great Pyrenees and had slowed down with age, but he still embodied the term gentle giant.
It was sweet, the way Grant took care of him after Uncle Walt died.
I hadn’t even thought to ask about Tuck.
Another pang of guilt hit me. How had I let my relationship with Uncle Walt be pushed to the back burner for so long?
Work stress, marriage stress, the distance from the city to Iron Peak all seemed like such weak excuses now.
But I knew he wanted me here, so that’s where I would stay.