Chapter Two
Knox
I knew this was a mistake the second her car pulled up. No, I knew this was a mistake the moment I submitted the application. The shiny, little Corolla with the bumper sticker that says ‘my other ride is a spirit portal’ just put me over the edge.
Lonely does weird shit to a person. It makes you believe you need someone around.
Someone who’ll break up the silent fucking echoes of your own mind.
Someone who’ll call the morgue if you don’t wake up in the morning.
Now, I’m thinking silence and rotting here in bed for eternity might’ve been what I needed all along.
She steps into the cabin, hair soaking wet, blue lips chattering, her tiny hands wrapped around her curves like she’s trying to get warm. “I’m Juniper,” she says again, all the confidence in the world, “your mail-order bride. We got hooked up on the app.”
Does she think I don’t know who she is? No one comes this far up the mountain unless they’re meant to be here. Even then, the folks that come by are buddies, not young women with thick curves and long, dark hair.
She’s attractive, I’ll give her that. Also, way too fucking young and already far too chatty. I made a mistake not to note how much I hate small talk on the application. I should’ve underlined and highlighted it.
It’s a deal-breaker.
She stands in the doorway, shaking as though she’s waiting for something.
I’m probably supposed to help with this shivering thing.
“I figured who you were,” I finally say, nodding toward the bathroom.
“There’s a shower down the hall. Towels, the whole deal.
You can warm up. I’ll keep the fire going. ”
Her head tilts back and forth slowly, and her eyes widen behind her fogged glasses. I don’t know what that means, but I get the feeling she was expecting a different kind of welcome wagon.
She’s a woman from planet Earth, so she probably expected flowers and a load of compliments the second she walked in the door. I suck at all that shit. Should’ve put that on the application too. Even if I didn’t, there’s no point in it because she’s not staying.
I turn back to the fireplace, toss another log onto the flames, and pretend I don’t hear her footsteps shuffling toward the bathroom.
I’ve never done anything like this before, but last winter was exceptionally long. Six months with impassable roads and the kind of cabin fever that has driven weaker men insane. That said, I was close.
I talked to the walls, named squirrels, and started carving faces into the firewood just to feel like someone was looking back.
So yeah, I went into town the second the snow melted and thought I’d find someone who wanted quiet companionship.
When I didn’t find it, I signed up for this mail-order bride thing everyone’s been talking about.
I wanted a warm, quiet body that wouldn’t stir anything in me. A warm body that also needed companionship and nothing more. Just another person to talk about the weather with. Another person to share responsibilities.
Apparently, even a simple request can be incredibly stupid. Lesson learned.
I poke at the sparking log and stare into the flames, trying not to think about the girl in my bathroom. I’m sure she’s figured on her own that this won’t work and she’ll offer to leave.
Still, I can’t stop picturing her in the rain. Her clothes clinging to her soft frame, her round breasts, her hard nipples. I shouldn’t have noticed. I know that.
She’s young. Way too young for me to be looking at her like that, but I can’t help myself. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a woman this… perfect.
I shift in my chair and lean forward, annoyed with myself as I poke at the fire again.
The bathroom door creaks open, and she steps out into the living room, long white T-shirt hanging to her knees, hair still soaked but tamer, lips now pink instead of blue.
“That felt good.” She sighs and tosses herself back on the couch as though she’s spent twelve lifetimes here and has a spot she calls her own.
“I’m starving. Are you starving? I had like half a protein bar and a cup of M&M’s on the way up here.
I meant to stop for pizza, but it had already started raining and I got nervous the roads would get worse if I waited too long. ”
I stare at her, wondering if I look as annoyed as I feel. Clearly, she didn’t get the memo to leave. She, in fact, wants dinner.
“I don’t cook until six.”
She grins wide, almost sarcastically. “That’s what you brought me here for, right? Cook, clean, and listen to you ramble about vintage trucks?”
“That was humor.”
“I don’t know about that.” She shakes her head back and forth with a grin. “You seem like the kind of guy who’d like a quiet woman who does her part and leaves you alone.”
She’s nailed it on the head, though she gives me the impression it’s not what she’s looking for. “Is there a problem with wanting that?”
“Only that it sounds like you made your listing on the wrong website. See, you’re looking for a maid with boobs.
” She slows down her speech considerably, I assume for comedic effect as she says, “You applied for a mail-order bride.” Her lips curl into a sweet smile, but her eyes are daring me to argue.
“Well, you’ve got a point there. I was looking for a maid with boobs. Is there an exchange program that you know of?”
She gasps, mock-offended, and places a hand dramatically over her heart. “Wow. Misogyny and customer service jokes? You really are the full package.”
I smirk, but she’s already turning toward the pantry like she owns the place. “I’m not going anywhere tonight. Have you seen the storm coming in? My car is horrid in this stuff. You’re stuck with me… and I’m starving.”
She moves like she’s been here before. Confident, curious, and completely unbothered by the fact that I haven’t exactly rolled out the welcome mat.
Her fingers trail along the edge of the pantry door, and I catch myself watching the way her hips sway beneath that oversized T-shirt like I’m some kind of idiot.
I look away, poking at the fire again. “Fine,” I say. “Dinner’s at six.”
“Why can’t we eat until six?” Her voice does this high-pitched whiny thing that pierces straight through my head. “I’m starving right now. I’m telling you, I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“Sounds like a you problem. My cabin, my rules. We don’t eat ‘til six.”
“What happens if we eat before six? Does the spell break? Do all your vintage trucks turn back into pumpkins?”
I scoff under my breath, hiding the bit of laughter that almost makes its way up my throat as I poke at the fire again, refusing to look at her. “You want dinner early, you cook it.”
A spark lights in her eyes. “Great. Where’s the garlic? I’m making pasta and summoning spirits.”
“What?” Is this some sort of joke?
“Yeah, spoiler alert, I’m not here for romance either, caveman. I’m doing research for a story.” She turns back toward the pantry and pushes boxes around until she finds what she’s looking for. “I’m a ghost hunter. I have my own blog.”
I blink at her slowly. “You’re a what?”
She pulls out a bulb of garlic like it’s a weapon and holds it up triumphantly. “Ghost hunter. Paranormal investigator. Spirit whisperer. It all depends on the day.”
I stare, unsure if she’s messing with me. “You came all the way up here to chase ghosts?”
Garlic flies from her hand and onto the counter with the box of pasta and a jar of sauce she found somewhere in the back.
“Your land’s got a reputation. Rugged Mountain itself has been flagged in three different databases for high spectral activity.
I couldn’t resist a place this close to the peak. ”
I lean back in my chair, arms crossed. “So, you’re not here for me?”
A smirk plays on her lips. “Please. I’m here for the dead people. You’re the bonus grump who keeps the lights on.”
I grunt, but there’s a twitch at the corner of my mouth I don’t bother hiding. “I don’t want to be in your blog.”
A dismissive shake sends her dark hair toward her back. “You really do think you’re special, don’t you?”
“No, I’m just not interested in being your punchline.”
She snorts and pulls a pan from beneath the counter like she put it there herself last night. “Please. You’re not nearly weird enough to be a punchline. You’re more like… the brooding side character who slowly grows a heart and eventually becomes the love interest.”
I feel a condescending grin cross my face. “That supposed to be flattering?”
“Not really. I just have a lot of opinions on the world around me.”
“Clearly,” I say, noticing how heavy the rain has suddenly gotten. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a storm heavy enough to shake the windows.
“I’m assuming you don’t have garlic bread?”
“No, but if you need some protein with that, there’s venison down below. Bottom drawer of the fridge.”
“Oh,” she grins and glances back, “I don’t need protein. This’ll be plenty.”
“I’d like protein, though.”
“Cool, you should come make it. Oh wait, you can’t. It’s not six yet.” She stirs the pasta into the bubbling water and pulls a single plate down from the cabinet above the sink. “You want some anyway?”
I realize this is some kind of power trip we’re on, and I usually like winning those at all cost, but dinner does smell good, and I hate wasting food. “Fine, I’ll eat.”
She smirks, like she’s just accomplished something. “Wow. Will you look at that? Compromise. I’ll be sure to write this down in my blog. Day one, the grump eats before six PM.”
I grunt, but the truth is, the cabin smells better than it has in months.
Garlic, steam, something vaguely herbal I can’t identify.
It’s probably one of her hippie-dippy ghost hunting ingredients.
With my luck, I’ll be passed out in twenty minutes, and she’ll strip the cabin of everything I own. Good thing I don’t have much.
“So… you never intended to come up here for romance? This is all a scam?”