3. True
three
True
Something isn’t right. I sensed it when I first pulled up to my cabin, and the feeling only gets worse the closer I get. Being a former military man and retired bounty hunter, I know trouble when I feel it.
At thirty-eight, I’ve seen the worst of the worst. That’s what drove me to live in the mountains, away from the evils of the world.
Luckily, my neighbors and the little town at the bottom of the mountain, Temptation Ridge, are good people who would all give you the shirt off their backs if you needed it.
That’s why I take the occasional tracking job to help locate lost loved ones or hikers lost in the woods.
Unfortunately, the job I’m returning from shifted from search and rescue to search and recovery—the hiker had taken a wrong turn and fallen in a secluded part of the mountain, making him harder to find.
At least he didn’t suffer, as the accident scene and the position of his body indicate he died on impact from a massive head injury.
His body was found in a rocky area that even wild animals couldn’t reach, which is also why it took so long to recover it.
Normally, the thought of coming home to my quiet cabin in the woods is something I crave, but after this tragedy, being alone no longer sounds like a good thing. Coming home to a wife and a cabin full of children sounds like the ideal scenario.
Maybe it’s time I sign up for Aspen’s mail-order bride service after I deal with whatever is waiting for me behind my front door.
I twist the door handle only to find that it’s locked, which is interesting. I always keep my door unlocked in case a neighbor or a lost hiker needs something. I might have seen the worst in people in my lifetime, but I refuse to add myself to that list.
The first thing I notice when I walk into my cabin is the first rays of the morning sun shining through the window, bouncing off of mason jar after mason jar filled with wildflowers placed all over the living room and kitchen.
The next thing I notice is a paperback book with a shirtless man on the cover, standing in front of a mountain range, titled Craving the Mountain Man.
The rest of the cabin looks cleaner than when I left ten days ago, making me even more curious about the squatter living in my cabin who likes wildflowers, reading about half-naked mountain men, and keeping things neat and tidy.
Even though the person doesn’t seem like a threat, I’ve had more than my fair share of run-ins with people you would never believe capable of committing the crimes they committed, so I proceed to my bedroom cautiously.
Carefully, I push open the bedroom door and pad across the room, making sure not to make a sound.
The human-shaped lump in my bed, covered in my blankets, puts me on high alert, ready for anything.
Except I wasn’t ready for anything when I notice a waterfall of golden curls sticking out of the covers, looking just like Goldilocks, the fairy-tale character she’s impersonating by sleeping in my bed.
I step closer, needing to pull the blanket away from her face to see what she looks like.
Before I can do that, she shifts, and the blanket slips from her face to her shoulders.
My breath catches as I’m overcome by her beauty.
Not only is her hair golden, but so is her skin, as if she’s been out in the sun recently.
Her long lashes kiss her cheeks as her lips pucker, as if she’s waiting for a lover’s kiss.
I’m tempted to oblige her, but instead I place my hand on her shoulder and give my little Goldilocks a gentle shake to wake her.
She shifts, rolling onto her back, but still doesn’t wake up, so I shake her shoulder a little harder this time. But to my surprise, she still doesn’t wake up. I’m just about to shake her a little bit harder when I hear your mumble.
“Naughty mountain man. Do you want me again?”
Fuck.
My cock instantly goes hard at the thought of crawling into bed with her and showing her my answer—until I realize she might not be alone. Hell, if she were mine, I’d keep her in bed every chance I got.
“Come on, Goldilocks,” I coax, shaking her shoulder a little harder. “Or should I call you Sleeping Beauty?”
Her eyes flutter open, still foggy from sleep, as she reaches out to me with a soft smile, “Come back to bed, mountain man.”
“As tempting as that offer is, I’d like to know the name of the woman who wants to bed me.”
Her eyes fly open, and she screams in surprise, sitting up in bed and pulling the covers to her chin. “Who are you?”
“I asked you first, Goldie,” I tease, watching her eyes widen in surprise as they run up and down my body. I’m a big guy. I make no excuses for it. My size scares a lot of people. Maybe that’s why I’ve never dated—I haven’t found anyone who isn’t afraid of me.
She visibly relaxes as her eyes land back on my face, “I’m Journee. You must be the owner of the cabin.”
“I am. Names, True.” I keep my responses brief, keeping her on her pretty little toes.
“I’d like to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
I almost swallow my tongue imagining the offer she’s referring to because if it’s her, she’s right, there’s no way I would refuse. “I’m listening.” I take a seat in my favorite chair next to the bed and cross my arms over my chest waiting for her offer.
She clears her throat, her eyes dropping to my forearms before returning to my face.
She shifts in the bed, pushing the blanket out of the way and scooting to the edge until she is sitting across from me.
I notice she is wearing my favorite flannel shirt, and damn if she doesn’t look good in it. “I’d like to buy your cabin.”
“Excuse me?”