Chapter 9
Nine
Blair
As I gradually wake up, I’m so warm and cozy that I don’t want to open my eyes yet. I snuggle deeper under the covers, aware of the light behind my eyelids and the sound of birds chirping.
Birds chirping?
I don’t have birds outside my high-rise apartment. Nor is my bed this soft. Nor does it smell like this. And I don’t have this many covers.
I bolt upright, looking around the room. For a second, I panic, wondering where the hell I am. And then my memory returns all at once.
OhmyGod.
A chill makes me shudder, and I glance down to see that I’m naked. Grabbing the covers, I pull them over my breasts. Holy shit. I slept in Adrian’s bed. With him. And we didn’t have sex. But he fingered me and ate my pussy.
I blush at the memory. In addition, my nipples harden, and wetness gathers between my legs because, Holy Mother, that was the best sex of my life.
Where is Adrian? I don’t hear a single sound in the cabin. When I look around, I find a piece of paper on the nightstand and bend toward it to snag it.
Blair,
I’m helping my brothers clear away the debris outside. I made you breakfast. It’s in the warmer under the microwave. There’s juice in the fridge and a pot of coffee. Help yourself.
Adrian
PS: Will you marry me?
Giggling, I plant my hand over my heart. I don’t think he’s kidding. He’s dead serious. The man made me breakfast? How long has he been up, and how did I sleep through the scent of food? The house smells amazing.
I’m freezing as I remove the covers and hurry into the bathroom. After peeing, I wash my hands and find the sweatshirt I was wearing last night. I have no other options, so I put it on. My feet are cold, so when I reenter the bedroom, I hunt for socks.
I hate snooping around in Adrian’s room, but I need something on my bare feet. Luckily, I find them in the second drawer I open. They’re too big on me, but I pull them up to my knees and pad from the bedroom into the kitchen.
His cabin is so warm and inviting. I love it.
It’s not huge, but why would he need more space than this?
He’s just one man. I wouldn’t even say it’s a bachelor pad because it’s not completely masculine.
There are feminine touches here and there.
Perhaps his brothers’ wives helped him decorate. Or maybe the man has a soft side.
I pour a cup of coffee first, grateful when I find vanilla creamer in the fridge. Does that mean my mountain man drinks his coffee with creamer? I assume so.
Standing at the sink, I lift my gaze to look outside and nearly drop my mug. Holy fuck. There are six men in my line of sight. All of them are giant and built like Adrian. I can’t even blink or look away. My mouth waters irrationally. And my heart races.
The sun is shining, mocking the destruction the storm left in its wake. There’s a good-sized tree down, and two of the burly men suddenly power up chainsaws and start cutting.
These men are wearing jeans, work boots, and flannels. If I took a snapshot of what I’m witnessing out this window, I could send it to Mountain Men Magazine, and it would surely make the cover. If there is such a magazine. I should look it up.
Speaking of photos… Where is my phone? When I spin around, intent on hunting it down where I last saw it in the bathroom, I spot it on the kitchen counter.
It’s plugged in next to another phone I assume is Adrian’s.
In fact, the two of them are sitting on matching little stands as if they belong together and have been sharing that space every night for a decade.
For a moment, I simply stare at the setup. I think I’m smiling. I like the way it makes me feel. I like everything I’m feeling. And this is crazy. I should be running for the trees. I’ve lost my mind.
After setting the coffee down, I pick up my phone, disconnect it from the charger, and tap the screen. Immediately, I wince. There are ten texts from my mother, six from my father, and several more from acquaintances who probably consider me a friend.
I left New York five days ago. I sold my condo, bought an SUV none of them know about, filled it with my most important belongings, and drove it here. Yesterday I closed on the property I’d purchased sight unseen.
Until yesterday, I put my family off by telling my parents I’d decided to take a vacation. But that was only going to work for so long. Apparently, the ticking clock has run out.
I open my mother’s texts first.
Where are you?
Blair, what are you doing in the mountains?
Why aren’t you answering me?
Don’t be stubborn. Call your mother.
Blair! Your phone wasn’t connected for hours. Did you turn it off? What are you doing?
I’m sending your father to your last known location if you don’t answer me ASAP.
I glance at the time on that one. An hour ago.
I hoped they would leave me alone for longer than this.
I assume the fact that I didn’t have cell service for an entire day caused my mother to panic.
I hadn’t considered that when I arrived at my homestead yesterday.
The woman was tracking me, and she couldn’t locate me all day and most of the night.
If she were a normal human—and if I were a loving, devoted daughter—I would have called to reassure her the moment I arrived here. But my mother isn’t normal, and I’m not devoted. I’m disgruntled, and she’s overbearing.
How long before someone shows up here? My father would never get on a commercial flight, which means he’ll need to find a pilot who can get him as close to here as possible.
Then he’ll need to arrange a rental car that meets his standards.
After that, he’ll need directions. When was the last time my father actually drove a car?
Snickering, I decide I’ve read enough and set the phone down. I’m starving. Food first. Hot man in a flannel next. Then maybe I’ll consider answering my mother.
As I walk away, I sigh. Fuck. I don’t want my father coming here, so I snatch my phone up and send a quick text to my mother.
I’m fine. There was a storm. I didn’t have service for a while. No need to send the cavalry.
I return my phone to the counter, hoping my text will placate her. I don’t want to engage in a long dialogue. Not now.
My mouth waters as soon as I pull the plate of food from the warmer. Holy shit. My man can cook. My man? Seriously? The idea is ludicrous.
Marry him?
So tempting. Does he have any flaws?
After locating a fork, I stand at the kitchen window and shovel the best breakfast I’ve ever eaten into my mouth while I watch the mountain man show outside. Who needs television?
Sometimes I struggle to remember to chew and swallow. Also, I’ve never eaten a breakfast like this in my life. Usually, I’m a granola-on-yogurt kind of gal. Sometimes, I’m in too much of a hurry to bother with even that and end up with a protein bar midway through the morning.
I could get used to this. I could also gain fifty pounds in a month if every meal in this house is this delicious.
The plate is piled high. I would never eat this much, but I’m famished, so I scarf down every bite, grateful no one is watching. There’s sausage, scrambled eggs, hashbrowns, and a biscuit that Adrian had already put butter and some kind of homemade jam on.
When I’m done, I rinse the plate and put it in the sink before filling another cup of coffee. In between every movement, I stare out the window. It’s only been half an hour, but the tree is almost gone. The wood is stacked under an awning against what I assume is a shed.
I’m well aware of which man is Adrian, and I follow him around the clearing with my gaze like a stalker. Finally, he says something to his brothers and turns toward the cabin.
For some reason, my face heats, as if he’s going to catch me doing something very naughty. Sheesh. All I did was watch him work. My heart is racing from the activity, though.
When the door opens, I set my mug down and lean against the sink.
He smiles as he removes his work gloves and strides toward me. “You found my note and breakfast.”
“Yes.” I barely have time to respond before he hauls me into his arms and kisses me.
This man doesn’t just kiss. He claims my mouth as though it’s his to do whatever he wants with whenever he wants, and to be honest, I’m okay with that.
When he finally eases back and lowers his forehead against mine, he’s grinning.
“What?”
“You’re here.”
“Yeah. Where else would I be? I don’t have any clothes or shoes.
I hope you don’t mind, I looked through your drawers to find some socks.
My feet were cold. I mean, I didn’t look through your drawers.
That came out wrong. I mean, I opened two of them until I saw socks. I didn’t mean to snoop.” I’m rambling.
He’s grinning. “It’s fine, Blair. I don’t have any secrets from you. I want you to move in here, baby. Today. Make this your home, too. You’re welcome to open every drawer and cabinet. Move shit if you don’t like where it is.”
I blink several times. “You’re serious.”
“Yep.” He kisses me again. “Are you going to marry me this morning?”
I bite my lip, partly to keep from laughing or smiling too broadly.
“And before you ask, I’m serious about that, too.”
“What time is it?”
“Eight.”
“Oh. Wow. Do you always get up before the crack of dawn and chop down trees? If so, next time wake me up before you go outside dressed as a lumberjack so I can fill my cup of coffee and sit on the porch swing and watch.” I grin.
He laughs. “Lumberjack, huh?”
I shrug. “That was the visual.”
“And we didn’t chop down the tree. It fell over in the night. I’m just fucking glad it didn’t hit anyone’s home.”
“Me, too, considering I’ve already abandoned a collapsed house. Surely the universe wouldn’t do that to me twice in one night.”
“Seems unlikely.” Fuck, his smile is bright. “You didn’t answer my question.”
I inhale deeply and nod toward the counter. “There were texts.”
He lifts a brow. “What did they say?”