Playing Cupid for the Mountain Man (Willowbrook Ridge Holiday Special #4)

Chapter 1

Gavin

Taking the long way down the mountain to reach the town isn’t the only reason my stomach feels like there’s a heavy weight inside. Resting next to me is a box, well-taped to make it out of the state. Inside, a pair of shoes and a few belongings of my ex-fiancé.

If that’s even what I want to call Rebecca. Referring to her as another failed example of getting a mail-order bride to stick around might be more accurate and realistic.

Now I’ve got the proof of her running away right next to me, ready to be shipped out. The only thing it’s missing is a label.

Making my way to the Hollow Oak to get free access to a computer without dealing with a bunch of people, I make it to the bar far quicker than I’m prepared for.

Feels like every time I go out in public, I need to talk myself into going through with it. Even when it comes to a place that’s a second home in a sense, I’m still getting warm beneath my clothing.

“Just in and out, like usual…” Muttering the words under my breath, I pop out of my truck and take a minute to enjoy the frigid air in hopes it’ll calm me down a bit before I head inside.

No matter how hard I try to get used to being in public, it never gets easier.

Entering the bar, I find Kinsley and Athena chatting it up at the bar. With only a few people taking up seats, I can’t blame them for trying to entertain themselves during the slow periods.

They’re chatting about what they’ll be doing later. Mentioning Valentine’s Day and realizing that the holiday is just a couple of days away, my mood sours a little more at the reminder that I will be spending it alone once again.

Guess I won’t beat myself up too much for not being able to buy overpriced chocolate and flowers.

Kinsley is the first to notice me in her peripheral vision, and that tip-earning smile is immediately locked onto her lips like it comes second nature.

Yet, as soon as she realizes it’s just me, that smile is gone, and she’s straightening up like she’s been caught with her hand tucked away in the cookie jar.

A little gossiping isn’t enough to get anyone in trouble. Not when these guys always do their best to keep their customers happy.

“Gavin!” Squeaking my name in surprise, Kinsley forces her smile this time, but it feels more unnatural.

Athena doesn’t even try to stick around for conversation. When she spins around on her heel, I watch her shoot for the back. I’d laugh if I didn’t understand that feeling well enough as is.

Suppose I can’t blame them for being nervous. The only time I ever come down here anymore is to watch an occasional game, go over numbers if something doesn’t add up, or get rid of someone.

Two weeks ago, I had to terminate a new bartender for stealing from the register. Had to involve the cops and everything. I’m confident I was the one who felt the worst during the whole ordeal.

Nodding as a greeting, I take a look around the bar to see how business is.

Always slow during the day, packed at night, especially on the weekends.

On a Thursday, I’m not surprised that most of the bartop is empty.

Some of the booths have small groups eating while deep in conversation, others watching reruns of games.

“Boss!” From the kitchen entrance, Kelsie appears. Now her smile is far more comfortable as she approaches. “You usually give me a heads up if you plan on coming down here. What’s the special occasion?”

Moving with her as I trek toward the back, I can’t help but notice the way she jerks her chin, searching for any issues herself, like she’s worried something slipped past her.

One unannounced visit, and everyone wants to act strange. By now, I should be used to it.

“Just came to use the computer.” Mumbling the words and pushing my way toward rich smells and deep laughter, I catch Emmett and Tony chatting it up at the food station. I give them a nod, and they return one, melting back into their conversation while they wait for their food to finish cooking.

Kelsie, the woman who actually runs this place and keeps it from burning down, walks with me and chats. Filling me in on anything that’s happened since the last visit, she grimaces when she talks about sales.

It’s cold out. Not as many people want to leave their house unless they have to. We’ll start picking up once spring comes around. It’s fine.

“Kelsie.” Making her straighten, I force a small curve on my lips to relax her.

“You’re doing a great job. Just keep doing what you’re doing.

” Reaching the office, I pause before she can follow.

“I need a few minutes to print something out, and we can do a small walk to see how things are going if it makes you feel better. I promise, I’m not here for anything else. ”

I’d have to close down the bar if this woman ever decided to step down. There’s no way I’d find someone who manages so well otherwise. Not someone who cares about this place as much as she does. Her job is secure, so she’s got nothing to panic about.

Visibly relaxing at my words, she nods and slips away, giving me the privacy I need to do what I’m here for.

Printing the package label is easy, but it’s the question of why that makes my skin prickle beneath my clothing. It’s not shameful that I’ve got to return Rebecca’s belongings; it’s just the fact that I’m the only one who knows about her.

These guys know me too well to believe I’d build a relationship naturally. I don’t act right around people unless I know them long enough to trust them. Rebecca defies that very concept.

They don’t know I’ve trusted Cupid’s Bloom Co. more than once to send me a bride who’d want to settle down at my side, or how many times it’s failed. No one wants to admit they need help, or that they can’t even succeed when they take the easy route and fail that way, too.

Grimacing as the printer whirs next to me, I log in to my email and check for anything important.

Hardly to my surprise, I’ve got a handful of them from the company itself. Every time a bride changes her mind, they send me their condolences and promises of another opportunity for a new fated match.

I think three times is enough. Fuck Cupid’s Bloom. I’ll just die alone, I’ve already made up my mind.

Scrolling through the emails, I spot one with survey in the subject line. Cracking it open, I’m happy to tell them exactly how I feel about my failed attempts and how I won’t be trying them again. Not in a damn heartbeat.

The company promises a ninety-five percent happiness guarantee. Well, they should hear from the ones who don’t get that happily ever after.

While I’m typing away an entire novel in their little box, I’m eventually disrupted by Kelsie. As soon as I hear her voice, my body moves on its own, closing out the website before I can even finish. Damn it.

Next time, I’ll really give it to them. It’s easier to complain in a chatbox.

“Are you expecting someone?” Looking over my quick movement, she lifts a brow. “Got a lady out here.”

The one time I come down, what’s the chance that I can’t just hop in and out?

“Is it a customer?” Grimacing at the thought of going out there and letting someone chat up my ear for more than five minutes makes my skin feel tight and hot. “They don’t want to talk to you?”

She shakes her head, much to my dismay. “Asking for you in particular. Got your last name and everything. Maybe someone you know who happened to recognize your truck?”

Knowing just how much I keep to myself, it’s more than doubtful.

Folding up the printed label and tucking it away, I postpone our stroll and make my way back out toward the front.

The air punches out of me the moment I lay my eyes on a woman sitting by herself at the bar.

Getting a little woozy, I’m wiping my hands off on the back of my jeans. Am I nervous? Not in the avoid all people kind of way, but… something else.

Kelsie runs straight into me, stumbling to look around my body to see what has caught my attention. “She’s the one asking for you.”

There’s no way. I’d know a face like hers.

This woman looks… soft. Everywhere. The word plump does a disservice to the reality of her. She’s all generous curves, a warm presence that seems to draw the flickering golden light from the bar’s lights and hold it close.

A thick sweater, the color of pine needles, hugs her frame, disappointingly hidden behind the bar, and I have the utterly insane, immediate thought of circling her so I can get a view of the whole picture. My fingers twitch, already pretending to know the softness of that top.

Her hair is a tumble of dark chestnut curls, escaping a loose braid to frame a face with cheeks rounded like ripe apples. And her eyes… In this light, they’re pure, liquid honey, pools of warmth fixed on me with an openness that makes my skin feel two sizes too small.

She’s noticed me, too.

It’s too late to flatten my hand down the front of my shirt to hide any wrinkles or suck in the small round of my stomach. As if someone like her would notice me in the first place, not without wanting something.

For a minute, it feels like everything freezes over as we look at each other. Nothing else in this room matters.

The only thing that distracts me is the start of what I feel manifesting in my stomach. It’s a hunger I’ve never known.

It startles me, the ferocity of it. It’s not just a stir in my blood. It’s a deep, yawning emptiness I thought I’d packed away with the failures of three polite, careful women who never once made my hands feel this clumsy, my throat this dry.

I’ve kept myself away from people for good reason. I know how to act. But my body is reacting in ways that I don’t understand. The heat growing against my skin isn’t from being around a stranger, but a silent demand to find out who she is.

“Gavin Little?” Her voice is higher-pitched, reminding me of the song birds up on the mountain. While my brows bunch together in confusion, hers shoot up in surprise as she tilts her head back. “Wow, you are anything but, huh?”

She leans in, and a hint of cinnamon and cold winter air wraps around me. That simple movement, the reduction of space between us, causes the heat to seep lower, tightening my gut and making my fingers curl against the bar top as I eliminate the space between us.

Confirming that we don’t know each other, there’s an invisible pull demanding I find out everything I can about her. So powerful that it leaves me dizzy, it’s a miracle I don’t crash into the other side of the bartop in front of my employees.

First things first, I need to figure out why she’s here and what I’m going to have to do to appease whatever she could possibly want with me.

“Not to be rude, Miss, but I don’t think I know who you are.

” I manage to speak, to be blunt, but the words feel thick and foreign in my mouth.

My voice comes out rougher than I intend, scraped raw from the inside.

The tips of my ears warm when she lets out a laugh, strangely amused instead of flinching as many have in the past. “How can I help you?”

Her bar stool scrapes against the ground as she moves to stand. Leaning against the bar to put less space between us, her mouth curves into a full smile. It’s a miracle I’m not knocked back onto my ass by it.

“Actually, I’m here to help you.”

While a few things naturally pop up in my mind at her words, I know it’s got nothing to do with why she’s really here.

Soon enough, I’ll figure out her business soon enough. I’ll learn she’s a curse, a beautiful complication sent to turn my quiet and peaceful world upside down.