Chapter 2
IVAN
I shake the frost out of my hair as I inspect the roof. Thorne and I have spent all morning fixing the snow damage and patching the weak spots, shoring up my cabin for the winter months.
“How does your side look?” Thorne calls from beside the chimney.
“Good as new.”
He nods. “Mine too.”
Satisfied, I return my tools to my tool belt and climb down the ladder. An icy blast hits me, and I freeze on the last rung, gritting my teeth at the pain in my leg. The spasm is like a knife twisting in my thigh, but I force myself to the ground, stepping aside for Thorne to descend after me.
“Thanks, buddy,” I tell him when he’s down. “Appreciate the help.”
Thorne shrugs. “Owed you one for the fence.”
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about my neighbor over the years, it’s that he hates feeling indebted to people. After I helped him fix his fence during last month’s storm, he was determined to repay the favor as quickly as possible.
“Better get going,” Thorne says, already stepping away from my cabin. “Enjoy the holidays.”
“Thanks.”
The words are hollow for both of us. Thorne will spend Christmas alone this year, just like me.
Just like every year. Hell, part of me considers asking him to come over for Christmas, but we’re both grumpy scrooges who prefer silence over words.
I can’t exactly picture us having a ball while forcing conversation over turkey.
Once Thorne has vanished into the trees, I open the door to my cabin.
North is waiting for me, barking eagerly in welcome.
I head to the fireplace to stoke the dying flames, petting North’s head as he nuzzles my right leg, careful to avoid my left.
He’s a real mountain dog—a gentle giant with a fluffy white coat.
Hell, I’m pretty sure he’s part polar bear.
When the fire is roaring once more, North curls up in his favorite spot on the rug in front of it, letting out a deep sigh.
I leave him to nap and head into the bathroom.
I’m all sweaty from working up on the roof, my leg still cold and aching, so I start to unbutton my shirt and turn on the shower.
Nothing happens.
I frown, trying again. But the water doesn’t flow. The pipes must have frozen.
“Goddammit.”
With a grunt of annoyance, I leave the bathroom and head back outside. My rental cabin is only a short walk from here. Check-in isn’t until midday, so I figure I still have about an hour to take a shower and clean the bathroom before any guests arrive.
The forest is bitterly cold. My feet crunch through the snow, freezing wind stabbing at my face. It feels like my thigh is about to split open.
Fuck. I hate this time of year.
It’s not just because of the weather or the bad memories. It’s because of the festive cheer that people fake every damn December. People spend the holidays broke, arguing, miserable, and then pretend like they’re having a “holly, jolly Christmas.”
Bullshit.
It doesn’t help that I live in the most festive small town in the whole damn country. I went grocery shopping in Cherry Hollow yesterday, and the whole place was smothered in decorations. Looked like the North Pole vomited on every storefront.
The Grinch had the right idea.
That grumpy green monster knew what was up.
I reach the cabin a couple of minutes later.
It’s a tiny little place, elevated on stilts so that it sits among the treetops like a treehouse.
I built it a few years back and started renting it out as an Airbnb.
It’s a pretty simple gig. All I have to do is clean the cabin between guests—doesn’t take long since the place is so tiny.
And thanks to the lockbox by the front door, I don’t have to interact with anyone except to message them the code.
It brings in a nice chunk of income from tourists in summer and skiers in winter.
Helps keep me afloat, along with selling firewood.
I’m limping by the time I reach the wooden stairs.
They feel like my worst enemy by the time I’ve struggled up to the front door.
I’ve overstretched myself—working on the roof since dawn, crouching in awkward positions for hours.
But I hate letting the pain hold me back.
I always try to pretend it’s not there so I can do all the shit that needs doing.
Guess I’m not one to admit when I’m beat.
The cabin is empty, as expected. I head straight to the bathroom, relieved when the shower turns on.
The water gets nice and hot as I strip, steam billowing around the tiny room.
My whole body relaxes as I step beneath the warm gush.
It soothes my leg, easing the stabbing pain, which is always ten times worse in winter.
Just another reason to hate the damn holidays.
The wind outside is picking up, whistling through the trees and making the cabin groan.
Through the frosted glass of the bathroom window, I can see flurries of snowflakes tumbling to the ground.
I’m not looking forward to the pain waiting for me outside.
Hell, I could happily stay in this shower all day.
But I need to get out of here before the guests arrive.
Need to give the bathroom a quick clean, then get home and fix the damn pipes.
Reluctantly, I turn off the shower and climb out, grabbing the spare towel from the cupboard. I dry myself, wrapping the towel around my hips. Then I pause.
Was that the front door?
The guest isn’t due for another hour, but I swear I heard a noise. It’s hard to tell what it was over the sound of the wind and the creaking trees outside. I frown at the door, straining my ears. Waiting to see if I hear it again.
Suddenly, the handle moves.
The bathroom door falls open, banging against the wall.
A young woman is standing in the doorway. She gasps when she sees me, looking as shocked as I feel. My heart somersaults when she meets my gaze, blinking up at me with big brown eyes. A thick mane of red hair frames her pale face, freckles spattering her nose.
“I…I—” the girl stutters.
I can’t help looking at her mouth when she talks. Those pink, pouty lips. Juicy as a peach. My gaze drops lower. Her thick, curvy body is wrapped up in jeans and a green Christmas sweater, and the way she fills out her clothes is enough to send all my blood rushing downward.
Fuck…
She’s so damn beautiful.
I’m suddenly aware that I’m wearing nothing but a too-small towel. The thin material is doing little to hide my swelling cock.
The fuck is wrong with me?
How am I already hard just from looking at her?
“I’m so sorry,” the girl finally manages to say, averting her eyes to the wall beside us. “I had no idea there was someone in here.”
Goddammit, even her voice is pretty. Sweet as a candy cane. I clear my throat, trying to make myself speak.
“Check-in isn’t ‘til twelve,” I grunt. My voice comes out hoarse, like it hasn’t been used in a while. I want to say something else—something that isn’t about the fucking check-in time—but being so close to this pretty little redhead has me tongue-tied.
“It is?” She looks mortified, keeping her gaze on the wall. Her cheeks are flaming the same color as her hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”
“Was in the email I sent.”
“Shoot. I’m sorry. I guess I missed that part.” There’s a beat of silence. Then the girl backs out of the bathroom. “I’ll…I’m sorry, I better let you get dressed, I, uh…yeah…”
She scurries into the living room, closing the bathroom door behind her.
I take a second to remember how to move.
My heart is racing, blood pumping a hundred miles an hour as I quickly pull on the fresh clothes I brought over.
I don’t know what’s happening to me. In all my forty-six years, my body has never reacted like this.
All it took was one look at this girl, and now it feels like my damn skin is on fire.
Who is she?
And why does it feel like I’ve been waiting my whole damn life to set eyes on her?