Chapter 3
K evin
The cottage was worse than I'd expected.
We stood in what used to be the front yard, staring at what became of Mary Lorenzo's home.
The roof had partially collapsed, and I remembered that Mary had mentioned that she wanted to have the roof looked at the last time I'd seen her alive.
A broken window gaped like an empty eye socket, and vines had overgrown through the front yard, slowly reclaiming it for the forest.
"Oh no," Tonya said, standing horrified beside me. "It's completely destroyed."
Not destroyed. Abandoned. Left to deteriorate because an old woman couldn't afford repairs and had no family to help her. Just like Tonya had been abandoned by the people who should have protected her from controlling bastards like Michael.
"The foundation's solid," I said, walking around the perimeter. I'd helped Mary shore it up five years ago when the frost heaves had shifted the stones. "The repairs will be extensive, but the house is salvageable. The first order of business is the roof."
"It’ll cost a fortune to fix." Her voice was hollow, defeated.
I watched her dreams crumble in real time, saw the hope drain from her face as she realized her inheritance wasn't the fresh start she'd planned. Her escape route, her chance at independence had been reduced to a pile of wood and broken glass.
But I saw something else. I saw potential. I saw a project that would keep her here, on my mountain, for months. Maybe longer.
"Not if you do most of the work yourself," I said. "Materials aren't that expensive if you're not paying labor costs."
She looked at me like I'd suggested she build a rocket ship. "I can't rebuild a house. I can barely make breakfast without burning it."
"You can learn. I can teach you." The words came out before I'd fully thought them through, but as soon as I said them, I knew they were right. "You could stay with me while we fix it up. Take your time, do it right."
"I couldn't ask that of you.”
"You're not asking. I'm offering." I stepped closer, close enough to smell the vanilla scent of her shampoo mixed with the crisp mountain air. "I liked Mary. This would honor her memory."
And keep Tonya here, where I could protect her. Where I could slowly, carefully claim every inch of her until she never wanted to leave.
"For how long?"
Forever. The thought hit me with startling intensity. I wanted to rebuild that cottage with her, wanted to teach her how to use my tools, wanted to watch her gain confidence with every board we replaced. Wanted to see her belly grow round with my children while we worked side by side.
"Eight to ten months, minimum if we improve it instead of just restore it," I said instead. "Longer if we hit permit delays or bad weather. And that's also assuming we do most of the work ourselves."
She studied my face, her beautiful eyes searching for something. "Why would you do that? Help me rebuild it?"
Because you're mine. Because from the moment I pulled you out of that storm, you became mine to protect. Because I'd rather spend eight months teaching you carpentry than lose you to whatever city you run to next.
"Because it's what neighbors do," I said. "And because you deserve a real choice about where you live."
The relief that flickered across her features told me everything I needed to know. She wanted to stay. Wanted to build something here. She just needed someone to show her how.
"You'd really teach me?"
"Everything you need to know." I looked back at the cottage, already planning the renovation in my head. "We'll start with the roof, work our way down. By spring, you'll have a home worth living in."
A home twenty minutes from mine. Close enough that I could check on her every day, far enough that she'd have her independence. The perfect compromise. But first, we’d have to work on a budget.
And for that, she would need to know how much the repairs to the Mercedes was going to be.
Jerry should have had time to inspect it by now.
I texted him and waited for his reply as we investigated more of what needed to be done to the cottage.
He texted back about a half hour later. “Shit.”
“What?”
"Your car is totaled," I said reluctantly.
She gave a half laugh that sounded dangerously close to tears. “When it rains, it pours.” She sniffled.
"He thinks he can get you six thousand for parts and scrap if you want to go that route."
Her eyes widened. "That takes a bit of the sting out of things.”
"German luxury cars hold their value, even broken ones. Should be enough to get you started on the cottage repairs. Or maybe a used car.”
She stared at the house. “Should I stay or should I go?”
Stay.
As if she heard me, she turned to face me. “If Jerry can get me the six thousand dollars, would you help me buy supplies to fix up this place?”
“You got it,” I said, unable to stop the grin on my face.
THE FIRST WEEK LIVING together had been an education in torture.
We made dinner together every night and sat for hours after finishing it talking about our lives.
I told her more about Maplewood Group Home and my foster brothers.
She told me about how she never found a place where she felt like she belonged. I hoped to give her that.
She'd thrown herself into learning with enthusiasm and good humor.
I taught her basic things her father should have shown her how to do, like hammer a nail into a board and measure and saw a plank of wood.
She took notes like she was studying for finals, asked intelligent questions, practiced until she got things right.
I loved watching her and seeing her joy at becoming more independent.
I loved seeing her face light up when she successfully made dinner without burning it.
But it was the domestic moments that nearly broke my control, like when I was watching her curl up in my reading chair by the fire, wearing one of my flannel shirts over her own clothes because it kept her warmer.
During the day, Tonya moved around my house in soft sweaters that hugged her curves and jeans that showed off her perfect ass.
It made me to strip them off her with my teeth.
The breaking point came when she insisted on helping with firewood.
I was splitting logs behind the house when I heard the sharp crack of wood going wrong. I looked up to find her standing next to my chopping block, staring at the axe buried so deep in the oak stump she couldn’t hope to remove it by herself. “Shit!” she said.
I dropped my maul and rushed to her side. "Are you hurt?"
"No, just embarrassed." She gestured helplessly at the buried axe. "I suck at this."
Relief flooded through me, followed immediately by something darker. She could have taken that blade to her leg. The thought of her in pain made something primitive and possessive roar to life in me.
"What were you trying to do?" I worked the axe free with considerable effort.
"Help. You've been working so hard to get ready for maple season, and I thought..." She trailed off, looking frustrated with herself. "I thought I could handle the smaller pieces. I mean you make it look so easy."
"It can be easy once someone shows you how to do it right." I made a decision that was probably going to test every ounce of self-control I had. "Come here."
I selected one of the smaller logs and set it on the block. "First, never swing when you're standing on uneven ground."
"Check."
"It's about technique, not strength." I moved behind her, my chest against her back, my arms coming around her to cover her hands on the axe handle. "Feet shoulder-width apart. Balanced."
She was so small in my arms, so soft and warm. The top of her head barely reached my chin, and when she leaned back slightly, she fit against me like she'd been made for this exact spot. Her ass pressed against my groin, and it took every ounce of control I had not to grind against her.
"Like this?" she asked, adjusting her grip. The movement made her wiggle against me, and I bit back a groan.
"Perfect." My voice came out rougher than intended. "Now, let gravity do the work. Guide the blade, don't force it."
I guided her arms through the motion several times—up, down, follow through. Every movement pressed her closer against me, every adjustment had her body rubbing against mine. My cock was hardening rapidly, and she had to feel it pressing against her.
She had to know what she was doing to me.
"I think I've got it," she said breathlessly.
"Try it solo." I forced myself to step back before I did something that couldn't be undone.
She lifted the axe, followed through with the motion I'd taught her, and split the log clean in half.
"I did it!" She spun around, face bright with triumph, and before I could react, she threw her arms around me.
The hug was spontaneous, grateful, completely innocent. But with her pressed against me, her soft curves fitting perfectly against my hard angles, innocent was the last thing on my mind.
"Kevin," she whispered, looking up at me with those hazel eyes that seemed to see straight through to my soul.
I should have stepped back. Should have put distance between us before this went somewhere we couldn't come back from.
Instead, my hands settled on her waist, spanning almost completely around her narrow middle.
My thumbs brushed against the bare skin where her sweater had ridden up, and she shivered.
So soft. So fucking perfect.
"Tonya..." I said her name like a prayer, like a claim.
She went up on her toes, her face tilting toward mine, lips slightly parted. For a heartbeat I thought she was going to kiss me. Thought I was going to let her, thought I was going to take her mouth and claim it as thoroughly as I wanted to claim the rest of her.
The sound of engines grinding up my access road shattered the moment.
We sprang apart just as three machines crested the hill, carrying my foster brothers. Neil was on his massive Polaris, Sam on his modified dirt bike, and Shane bringing up the rear on his medical response quad.
Perfect fucking timing.
TONYA
The three men who climbed off their vehicles looked like they'd stepped out of an adventure magazine.
Tall, broad-shouldered, moving with the easy confidence that came from living in the wilderness.
They were clearly Kevin's family in every way that mattered.
The had the same watchful eyes, the same way of moving like apex predators in their natural habitat.
The same way of looking at me like they weren't sure what to make of the city girl in their brother's territory.
"Boys," Kevin said, and I could hear the resigned affection in his voice. His hand settled possessively on my lower back, warm and claiming. "Meet Tonya Lorenzo. Mary's granddaughter."
The tallest one—a redhead who had to be at least six-foot-six—stepped forward first. "Neil Parker," he said, offering me a hand that engulfed mine completely. "Sorry about your grandmother. She made the best maple cookies on the mountain."
"Thank you." I said, guilt twisting in my stomach. 'I wish I'd known her better. I didn't even know she was sick. My ex-fiancé had been intercepting her letters. I only found out about the inheritance after I left him."
“He sounds like a real piece of shit,” Neil said.
I nodded. “He is.”
But I didn’t want to talk about Michael. "Kevin told me you all chose this place together."
"Different properties, same mountain," said the blond one who looked like he'd just finished climbing something dangerous. He held out a hand for me to shake. "Sam Edwards. I run wilderness guide services from Eagle's Peak."
The dark-haired one with intense silver eyes introduced himself as Shane Wolfe. He carried himself like former military, and I noticed the medical kit strapped to his ATV.
"We hadn’t heard from you in a few days," Neil said to Kevin, but his eyes kept flicking to me with curiosity. "That storm ripped up a bunch of things."
"At least the roads are clear,” Shane said.
When the three of them kept looking at me expectantly, Kevin's hand pressed more firmly against my back. I could feel the possessive heat in his touch. "Tonya's staying with me while we rebuild Mary's cottage."
"Rebuild?" Shane raised an eyebrow. "Is that place really that far gone?"
"No, the foundation's solid," Kevin said. "It just needs some work."
"Some work?" Sam's grin was pure trouble. "I’ve been by the cottage. That place needs Jesus and a construction crew."
"It's not that bad," I said, lifting my chin at the skepticism in his voice. "Kevin thinks it's salvageable."
"Kevin thinks a lot of things," Sam muttered, earning a warning look from Kevin that could have melted steel.
"Are you ready to swing a hammer and get dirty?" Neil asked, but there was something approving in his tone.
"I'm learning," I said. "Kevin's teaching me."
"Bet he is," Sam said under his breath.
"We should head out," Shane said quickly, clearly the peacekeeper. "Let you get back to your... teaching."
"Our monthly meeting's this weekend," Neil reminded Kevin. "Usual place."
"I'll be there."
They climbed back onto their vehicles, engines roaring to life. But not before each of them nodded politely to me—tentative acceptance into their brother’s life.
As they rode away, the almost-kiss hung between us like unfinished business.
"They're protective of you," I said.
"We protect each other." His dark eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my pulse race. "Always have. They like you."
"How can you tell?"
"They didn't suggest I throw you off the mountain."
I laughed despite the tension crackling between us. "Is that their usual response to women in your life?"
"There haven't been a lot of women in my life." The honesty in his voice made my breath catch. "Not that I ever had staying with me here on our mountain."
The implication hung in the air between us. I was the first. The only one he'd brought to his sanctuary, his sacred space.
I was going to rebuild my grandmother's cottage with him.
He was going to teach me to use tools I needed to learn to trust myself, and learn that I was stronger than Michael had ever let me believe.
And I was going to do it all under the watchful, protective eyes of the most compelling man I'd ever met.
A man I wanted to fall madly into bed with after only knowing him a week. I was hoping he felt the same.