Chapter 3
BECCA
I woke up surrounded by Rod's scent and my body still tingling from dreams that were too vivid to be decent. For a moment, I forgot where I was, but then the memory of the small cabin came back to me, and I found myself in a strange bed that belonged to the sexiest mountain man I’d ever met.
The same man who pulled me from an icy creek just yesterday.
But my body remembered everything my conscious mind tried to forget. The way he'd looked at me over the table and how his hands felt when he carried me in. The rumble of his voice when he called me baby girl. Twice.
Not that I was counting, but how could I not count? He was everything I’d always fantasized about…and I was staying in his house for a few days. Maybe longer.
Less than twenty-four hours with a stranger shouldn't have felt this intimate. But it did.
The dreams I had throughout the night still clung to me like morning dew.
Dream Rod hadn't been content to sleep on the couch across the room.
Dream Rod had stalked across the wooden floor, his eyes hungry in the moonlight, and climbed into bed with me.
He touched me in ways that made me blush even now, whispered things that made me squirm beneath the heavy quilt.
Dream Rod called me his good girl when I came apart around his fingers, his mouth, his cock.
Dream Rod had been insatiable. Unfortunately for me, Real Rod had been a perfect gentleman and stayed far away for the whole night.
I stretched and peeked across the cabin. The couch was empty, and the blanket he’d used was folded neatly at one end. The smell of coffee and pancakes drifted through the air, and my stomach growled in response.
He was making breakfast.
Men like him didn't exist in the real world. At least, not in my world.
"You awake?" Rod's voice floated from the kitchen area, just a few steps away in the open-concept cabin.
I sat up and tucked the quilt around me, suddenly aware of how I must look. My hair felt like a bird's nest, my face was completely free of makeup, and I was only wearing his flannel shirt that hung to my knees. "Yeah, I'm up."
"Coffee's ready. Pancakes, too."
I slipped my bare legs over the side of the bed and reached for the borrowed sweats.
I should have been shy about standing up in just his shirt to step into his sweats, but he was busy cooking.
Besides, if he wanted to sneak a peek, that was fine with me.
Once the sweats were on, I slipped my feet into the wool socks he'd loaned me and got up.
"It smells amazing. Do you cook like this every morning? "
Rod turned from the stove with a spatula in hand.
The morning light caught in his dark hair, highlighting strands of silver at his temples.
Even in a simple t-shirt and flannel pants, he looked like he'd stepped off the cover of some "Mountain Men Monthly" magazine.
A solid ten to my mediocre six on my best day.
How was it possible for a man to look that good first thing in the morning?
"Yeah. And you need to eat. Build your strength back up." His gruff voice softened at the edges like he was making an effort to be nice.
I padded to the wooden table where he'd already set out two plates. "Thank you. For everything. For giving me your be—"
"Stop thanking me. Anyone would've done the same." He flipped a perfectly golden pancake onto a waiting plate and brought it to the table. "Syrup's there. Butter, too."
I sat down and did my best not to drool over the offering. "That’s not true. Most people would've called search-and-rescue and let them handle it. You didn't have to bring me to your home."
He shrugged and poured coffee into a mug before sliding it toward me. "Cell service is shit out here. Would've taken them hours to find you. You'd have been a popsicle by then."
"Still…" I smiled at the visual of me as a popsicle and added cream and sugar to my coffee, somewhat surprised that such a rugged man would have both on hand. "So, do you often rescue damsels in distress who fall into creeks while hiking?"
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and my heart did a little flip. "First time, actually."
"Lucky me."
"Lucky both of us that Killer found you." As if summoned, the black Lab trotted over and dropped a well-worn tennis ball at my feet. Rod chuckled. "He's decided you're his new best friend."
I reached down to scratch Killer behind the ears, amazed at how such a fierce-sounding name could belong to such a gentle dog. "What kind of name is Killer for this sweetheart?"
"Ironic. He wouldn't hurt a fly. Just kills ya with kindness." Rod cut into his pancakes. "How'd you sleep?"
I felt heat rise to my cheeks as I thought about my dreams. "Good. Really good. Your bed is super comfy."
"I’m glad you think so."
I smiled, but something shifted in the air between us.
Rod studied me over the rim of his mug, and his eyes were softer than they were yesterday.
He no longer gave off an annoyed vibe. Now he looked at me like he was really seeing me for the first time.
"Tell me about yourself, Becca." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. The movement pulled his t-shirt tight, highlighting the muscles underneath. “What’s a city girl like you really looking for out here?”
I blinked, surprised by his interest. "Well, I told you why I tried hiking, but I guess I’ve always loved looking at nature…
but maybe from afar.” I glanced out his window and smiled.
“It’s so pretty up here. Um, what else? I work from home as a graphic designer, so I’m home alone most of the time.
I have a roommate, but she travels a lot, so I hardly ever see her. I’m pretty boring.”
Rod's expression darkened. "That’s it? Seems like there’s a sweet little girl inside you who wants to get out and play."
I gasped at his directness. Was that just a random comment or could he actually sense my Little side? "Excuse me?"
He took another bite of pancake and swallowed before looking up at me again. "You can be yourself with me, Becca. I won’t judge. I promise."
I stared at him, unsure how to respond. Men didn't usually notice or care if my Little side made short appearances. But Rod not only noticed, he was encouraging it.
“Um, okay, yeah. I mean, I guess a man to provide a safe space to explore would be nice too.” I reached for a handful of hair and twirled it around my finger, feeling more vulnerable than ever before.
“Thank you for trusting me with that.” His eyes still held mine with an intensity that made my stomach flip, even as he changed the subject. "So you're a graphic designer. What's that like?"
I told him about my work, my clients, my little home office.
And for the first time ever, he asked questions that showed he was actually listening. No one asked questions about my job. No one cared. Except Rod.
We finished breakfast, and Killer kept bringing toys to drop at my feet. First a rope, then a squeaky squirrel. And when I came out of the bathroom, a rubber bone was waiting for me. Each time, I'd throw it for him and he'd bound across the cabin to retrieve it.
Rod nodded to Killer as he gathered our plates. "He's usually more cautious with strangers."
"I'm honored." I threw the bone again, and it bounced off a wall before Killer snatched it mid-air. "And I like him too."
For a man who supposedly lived alone by choice, he seemed surprisingly comfortable having me in his space. Maybe he was just being polite or maybe he actually enjoyed my presence as much as I enjoyed his.
When everything was cleaned up, Rod looked out the window and then craned his neck to look up at the sky. “Looks clear, so I’m gonna take care of some chores outside.”
He was leaving me alone? “Need some help?”
“Nah.” He shook his head and reached for the hand towel. "Stay inside where it's warm. I won't be long."
I watched through the window as he trudged through the snow with an ax over one shoulder.
Rod walked to a pile of logs and began chopping with powerful strokes.
His breath came out in fog clouds in the cold air, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from the rhythmic swing of his flexed muscles and the power of his shoulders beneath his heavy coat.
"Your daddy is something else, huh?" I murmured to Killer as he sat beside me at the window with his tail thumping against the floor.
After splitting enough wood to refill the rack beside the fireplace, Rod disappeared down a path toward the creek. Part of me wanted to get bundled up and chase after him to see what he was doing, but a much bigger part wanted to do as he said. That part won out.
When he returned an hour later, he explained he'd been breaking up a beaver dam that threatened to flood part of his property.
This guy could do anything.
How did anyone find such hard physical labor so appealing? I didn’t like doing it, but I definitely loved watching it. And based on the contentment on Rod’s face when he came back inside, he loved it too.
The day passed in a comfortable rhythm that felt strangely familiar, as if we'd known each other for years instead of a day.
I helped him prepare a hearty stew that simmered all afternoon and filled the cabin with rich, savory aromas.
Then we ate by the fireplace as the crackling flames cast a warm glow over everything.
After dinner, Rod pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.
"Nightcap?" He poured a shot into each glass without waiting for my answer.
I accepted the glass, and our fingers brushed. It was like a magnet was drawing us together and shooting off fireworks where we touched. "Thanks."