Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Willow
The sound of the birds outside wakes me up before the sun.
Obviously, we have birds down at our shitty little rental house, too. But there’s something different about being this high up on the mountain that makes the world feel quieter somehow. Like all the noise and ugliness from town can’t quite reach this place.
The scent of something warm and masculine is lingering in the sheets around me.
Cal.
My stomach tightens at the reminder of exactly where I am.
Still, I let myself sink deeper into the pillows for one more minute and listen to the peaceful sounds outside, because I already know the second my feet hit the floor, none of that peace is going to survive the day ahead of me.
For a few minutes, I manage to keep thoughts of the night before away, but then they start to creep in.
The Rusty Nail. Hatch. The dart game. The debt that only seemed to get bigger. And finally, the big, grumpy mountain man, who had never met me, came out of nowhere to win me, handing over a couple of thousand dollars before more or less kidnapping me to his remote cabin up the mountain.
Okay, he didn't really kidnap me. But I wasn’t left with much of a choice.
Now, I’m in his bed, and I still have no idea why he did it or what he wants from me.
But I’m not naive enough to think he won’t want something. Men always do.
There’s a creak right outside my locked door. There’s a pause and then a tentative knock.
“Coffee?”
“I don’t drink coffee,” I fire back without thinking, and immediately regret my sharp response when I hear his footsteps retreating down the hall without another word.
Guilt pricks almost instantly.
Fantastic.
He’s been nothing but nice to me. Saves me from the town sleaze, gives me his bed, doesn’t murder me in my sleep, and the first thing I do is snap at him when he’s once more trying to be kind.
Nice, Willow. Real nice.
I rub the heels of my palms into my eyes and stare up at the ceiling for another second before throwing the blankets back and slipping out of bed.
The shirt Cal lent me the night before hangs past my thighs, so I don’t bother with my dirty cutoffs for the moment as I crack the bedroom door carefully and step into the hall.
The cabin is quiet except for the low hum of something from the kitchen and the occasional creak of wood settling around me.
I take a moment to look around and take in my surroundings. Morning light spills through the windows, painting the room in a soft glow that makes the cabin look much…safer and warmer than the night before.
Making my way down the hall, I can’t help but notice how quiet it is. No television blaring with whatever sports game is on, no yelling, no smashing bottles.
Just…quiet.
And there, standing at the stove with his back to me, is Cal.
For a second, before he notices me there, I stare.
Because this man is honestly totally unfair to look at this early in the morning.
It’s not that I didn’t notice before, but I was preoccupied and not able to fully appreciate exactly how incredibly sexy my savior is.
And massive.
His broad shoulders stretch beneath a dark grey shirt with the sleeves shoved up enough to expose thick, tanned forearms. His dark hair is still damp from the shower, and even from across the room, I can smell his clean, soapy scent.
He’s annoyingly attractive. Beyond attractive, really.
If I were looking. And I’m not looking. I’m never looking.
Not for a man. Absolutely not.
For my whole life, men have been nothing but a major pain in my ass. No, thank you.
As if sensing me standing there, he glances over his shoulder. “I made you tea.”
A wave of gratitude and something else I can’t identify hits me. “Tea?”
“You said you don’t drink coffee.”
“I don’t.” I step forward and take the mug he’s offering me.
“I guessed.”
“Thank you.” I look down into the mug of black liquid and inhale deeply.
“There’s milk and sugar,” he says. “I wasn’t sure what. You—”
I take a splash of both and take a sip. “Perfect.”
And it is. I wrap my hands around the mug and let it warm me before I step toward the window and look outside.
I should be on guard, and I need to remind myself to keep my walls up. After all, I am in a strange man’s house, isolated from…well, everything. He hasn’t told me yet what he wants from me. But I have a few ideas.
Still, at this moment with a cup of tea in my hand, the birds singing in the trees and the blue sky outside, for a moment I let myself believe that my entire life isn’t totally screwed up and I’m not currently in the middle of the most messed up situation my family has managed to get me mixed up in.
And that’s saying something.
He doesn’t say anything while I take my time with my tea. It’s not until I turn away from the window that Cal says, “I made breakfast.”
It’s only then that I notice the plate of food on the counter. Eggs, bacon, and toast. The moment I set eyes on it, my mouth waters.
“What’s that?”
“Breakfast.” He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.
I tilt my head and narrow my eyes. “Why?”
Cal grabs a towel and wipes his hands. “Because it’s the first meal of the day.”
“But why did you make it?” My lips twist into a scowl before I can stop them. “For me?”
What do you want from me?
Is the real unasked question hanging in the air between us
“Because you need to eat, Willow.” He speaks every word slowly as if I might have trouble understanding. “That’s it. There’s no hidden agenda.” I narrow my eyes, but he ignores me and points to the plate. “Go ahead. I already ate.”
My stomach chooses that moment to growl, so I reach for the plate and immediately retreat to the solid wood table on the other side of the room. I sit with my back to the wall and dig in.
After a few bites, I wipe my lips and say, “You make breakfast for all the women you drag home from the bar?”
The words slip out defensive and sharp before I can stop them.
His shoulders stiffen for half a second.
“You always so prickly with people who’ve done nothing but save your ass?”
His retort takes me off guard.
“Only the ones who want something from me.”
His jaw tightens, and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. It’s only then that I notice the fine lines around his eyes and realize how much older than me he is. By at least fifteen or twenty years. He’s definitely closer to my father’s age than my own.
But he looks nothing like the gaunt, hollowed-out shell my father has become from years of turning to alcohol and pills in search of the life he’d lost when my mother died.
“I don’t want anything from you, Willow.” His voice is low and rough, rumbling directly to my core.
I have no reason to believe him.
Except, of course, for the fact that since rescuing me, he hasn’t done anything except be kind.
I’m not going to apologize. We’re not there. Not yet.
I turn back to my breakfast and stab a piece of bacon with my fork.
From where he’s standing across the room, he sighs and shakes his head. I pretend not to notice.
He doesn’t say another word until I’ve finished the food on my plate, and the second I do, he clears my plate before I have a chance to stand up.
“I could have done that.”
“I’m sure you could have,” he says without looking back. “But you don’t have to. You’re a guest.”
“Is that what I am?”
And just like that, the sharp defense mode is activated. I jump up from the chair and cross my arms over my chest.
When he turns from the sink and sees me, I don’t miss the way his lips twitch into a half smile, and he shakes his head like he’s trying, but failing to figure me out. I also don’t miss the way his eyes dart down to my bare legs before he meets my gaze.
Okay, maybe I should have put my shorts on.
“What game are you playing?”
“Sorry?”
“Game, Cal.” I don’t even try to keep the fire out of my voice.
“You’re obviously playing at something,” I continue.
“I just can’t figure out what the hell it is.
But I know it’s something because no one just buys a woman minutes before kidnapping her and hauling her up to his cabin in the middle of nowhere and doesn’t want something. So what is it?”
He takes one step forward before thinking better of it and stopping. “Maybe I just didn’t like the alternative.”
“That’s not an answer,” I say. “And it doesn’t make any sense.”
Something flickers in his expression, but it’s gone as quickly as it came before he says, “To be clear,” he says. “I did not buy you. I paid your debt.”
“My brother’s debt,” I interject.
“Whatever,” he shakes his head as if it’s not an important detail. “I also did not kidnap you,” he continues. “If I remember correctly, you got into my truck of your own free will.”
“It’s not like I had much of a choice.”
“You’re not a prisoner,” he says. “You’re free to go anytime you like.”
Those words should be all I need to get the hell out of here and go check on my dad. He didn’t answer when I called earlier, and all of my text messages have gone unread.
Still, even with Cal’s release, I hesitate because for one stupid second, I allow myself to forget what’s actually waiting for me down the mountain.
Real life.
A runaway brother. A drunk father. Ronnie Hatch.
Nothing good.
Still, is it really much better here in a remote cabin with a massive man who still hasn’t told me what he wants from me?
At least down in town, I know what to expect, and I can defend myself against it.
“Great. I’ll go change,” I say after a moment, set my tea mug down, and head for the bedroom and my clothes, before he can stop me.
Cal
The minute the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. Well, not entirely. After all, she’s not a prisoner, and obviously she’s free to leave. But the little that I know of this spitfire woman is that she’s impulsive, reckless and prone to making poor choices.
I still don’t think it’s safe in town, at least not until Luke’s back from the city and I’ve paid the rest of what I owe to Hatch. But I meant what I said, I won’t hold anyone against their will. That’s not how I operate.
I take my coffee and, with Murph at my heels, head out to the garage to wait for her. Maybe a few minutes of puttering on my latest project will help clear my head.
Ten minutes later, I’m elbow deep under the hood of the old Chevy I picked up last month, trying to focus on literally anything except Willow Callahan and the way her long, lean, bare legs looked standing half naked in my kitchen this morning.
I’m so lost in thoughts I have no business thinking, I don’t even realize how much time has gone by without her reappearing, until finally I pull myself out from under the hood, wipe my hands on a rag, and look at the time.
“Where the hell is she?” I ask the dog, who lifts his head with a whine in response to my question.
Surely, it doesn’t take that long to put a pair of shorts on?
Murph whines, looking toward the shop door and yard beyond.
Fuck.
“She left, didn’t she, buddy?”
I know it in my gut. God damn stubborn woman. I should’ve known better than to leave her for even a minute. Her complete mistrust of anyone doing anything even remotely kind for her is going to get her killed.
I slam the hood of the truck I’m working on and head out to the yard, half expecting to find that she stole my truck.
But no, she must have left on foot.
It’s a long walk. And a dangerous one, too, with wolves and bears frequenting the area. Never mind the very real risk of the group of assholes out there that are no doubt looking for revenge.