CHAPTER THREE
ELENA
My legs hate me. That’s the only message that gets to my brain as I climb the stairs that seem to go on forever.
My hand trails the smooth banister that winds through what feels like the inside of a huge tree trunk—for all I know, that’s exactly what it is.
Why shouldn’t my mountain man also double it down as a tree god in his spare time?
And then I see the light at the top of the stairwell.
It’s a literal hallelujah moment. I could cry.
Actually, I could probably crawl.
My knees wobble as I lean forward, reaching for the glowy part that looks like opening at the end of the stairs.
I really am ready to drop and haul my body up step by step.
What I told Gabriel earlier—that I was sick of walking and ready to stay forever—wasn’t exactly a lie.
I do need to plant my butt and hiking was not my favorite thing.
My body is not made for exercise of any type.
Okay, maybe one thing. But that’s about it.
“Not just yet. You can make it, honey.” Gabriel’s deep tones wrap around me along with his hands as he physically hauls me up the next step and the next. “Six more to go.”
“It feels like an eternity,” I grumble. “Why can’t you stay on the ground like everyone else?”
“You’ll see.” He squeezes my waist, heavy, his thick fingers sinking into my flesh.
I bite back the moan that threatens when one finger slides over my hip bone and hits that freaking sensitive spot that leaves me all shivery and loose boned. The mountain man behind me huffs. Damnit, he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Drake warned me about this man.
Yeah, and I ignored those warnings because I need what Gabriel Decker offers.
“Don’t do that,” I mutter, because getting a breath in when he’s doing that and being near this man is damn near impossible.
“Help you, honey?” The laughter in his voice is barely constrained.
“You know what,” I mutter, slapping at his hands like his touch is offensive.
Spoilers: his touch is so far from offensive that I’m trembling all over, and we can both feel that.
He doesn’t stop his version of helping me, and he doesn’t let go.
“Three more,” he says quietly. “You can make it, honey.”
“Elena,” I pant, and not from exertion. “My name is Elena Markham.”
“Mmm.” he makes a low noise in his chest that might be approval at my giving him my name, or not. “Well, Elena Markham, welcome to my home. Sorry it’s not to your…liking.” He lifts me the last few steps and deposits me on the smooth, hard wood floor that forms an open canopy above the forest.
This is why my legs hurt. This is why they shake so badly.
We’re at tree height of the giant kind. Above the canopy, almost.
I can see the nearest neighbors, and we’re at the same level. And I can see them because…there are no walls. Well, one, if it counts. Behind me. The rest of the house is… open.
Gabriel Decker’s mountain home is one giant tree house complete with a huge lily pad style arched roof that looks straight out into more mountains than I have ever seen in my life.
I stare and stare with my mouth open. I think a little drool comes out.
A gentle hand closes my mouth. Gentle fingers stroke my jawline in a featherlight touch, so at odds with the bulk of the huge, rough-hewn man drawn from the side of the mountain that instead of staring at the vista laid out before me, I’m staring at him instead.
“Breathe, Elena,” he murmurs.
Hearing my name on his lips for the first time does strange things to my brain. I barely respond as he settles beside me on the floor, ignoring the wooden, hand carved furniture scattered about the enormous platform like room.
His shoulder nudges mine as he turns away to look out at the mountains beyond his, his jaw set in a determined line, the diamond hard quality visible even beneath the scruff of his beard.
Once more the desire to run my fingers through the mass of curly fibers slams into me. I knot my hands in my lap and press downward to prevent any unintentional groping.
“You said you need my help.”
Ah, negotiations have started. I didn’t expect him to do small talk but he really has gotten right down to it.
“You said you have coffee,” I counter.
“I do.” He turns his head to look at me, his arms slung loosely over his knees.
The sheer presence of this enormous man hits me again. I tuck my knees beneath me, squeezing my fingers together. Looks like that coffee isn’t coming any time soon. A shuddering breath releases from my chest.
“You were a sniper, right?” I check, but he doesn't seem to have brought his rifle up to the platform living area with him. Did you lock up below? I pray you did.
That conversation with Drake back at Hope Peak in Perfect Brews runs through my mind at double the speed it actually happened.
“What sort of help do you need, Elena?”
“The sort that will end a problem forever.”
Drake’s sigh as he looked me over hit me bone deep. It was a judgey sigh and I wanted to slap it out of him. “You’ve been like a sister to me since college, Lena. I hate seeing you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Doubting yourself. Fearing every shadow.”
I pressed a hand to my stomach over my shirt. “Shadows have claws.”
Drake nodded, sipped his beer. “Then I know a man. Someone you can trust in this.”
“Good. I can pay.” I had plenty of money. My career had seen to that.
Drake’s pensive assessment never faded as he watched me over the rim of his schooner. “Elena. Trust him to get the job done. But don’t turn your back to him. Not for one second. There’s a reason life made him the man he is.”
A week after that conversation with my oldest friend, one who still talks to me, I sit in Gabriel Decker’s house, a damn long way from anywhere. I’m begging a cup of coffee from him, and about to tell him why I’m here. Somehow, I suspect he’s as dangerous as Drake suggested.
And the one time my back was to him, he helped me. Touched me. I reacted to him in a way I’ve never reacted to a man before.
What does that say about him? About me?
The locks on his door remind me of Drake’s words. A shiver riots over my body.
“Cold?” Gabriel murmurs.
“Uncertain.” What is it about him that’s like a truth bomb in action? I can’t lie no matter how much I try.
“Fair enough.” He nods at my side, never looking my way.
I decide to go with the flow and keep blurting out the hardest truth that I couldn’t say when I was seated across from Drake that day in Hope Peak. Perfect Brews isn’t exactly the best place for quiet conversation if you want what’s said to go unheard.
“My ex is trying to kill me.”
The moment the words leave my mouth I regret them.
They hang in the air of Gabriel’s stunning home, shattering the sense of serenity he’s garnered in this quiet space away from everything and everyone out here.
I’ve brought my sense of unmuted chaos here into his home, and I have no right to do that.
No matter what scars this silent man beside me carries—and I’m sure there are many—he doesn’t deserve to be dragged into the bullshit I’ve brought onto myself.
I shake my head, pushing up on screaming thighs that can’t deal with a yoga class let alone a hike then the world’s biggest stair climber activity. “I shouldn’t have come here. This is wrong.”
The hand that wraps around my wrist closes like a manacle. Forest green and granite eyes meet mine, barely constrained fury blazing behind them.
“You came up my mountain seeking something, Elena Markham. You’ll stay until you get it.”
Shit, shit, shit. This is the part people don’t tell you about the bear in the woods theory.
Sometimes the bear is a little protective. Sometimes they’re a little mad. And something in me wants all that.
So, so badly.
But also, I’m scared that what I want might clash with what I’ve come to find. And that’s so much more critical that any want on my tick sheet from here on in.
But from the way that the mountain man holds onto my wrist and refuses to let go, there’s a different sort of trouble brewing.