Chapter 3 Thorne
THORNE
I grit my teeth when I hear the knock at the door.
Goddammit.
I was just about to head out into the forest. Got a big order to fill for some fresh timber, and I’m already late getting started. Since dawn, I’ve been fixing things around the cabin: thawing pipes, clearing the frozen chimney flue, shoveling snow off the porch.
Feels like I spend my whole damn life fixing up this cabin.
This place wasn’t meant to be habitable.
When my dad and his buddy built it back in the seventies, it was just a logging shack.
But after I left the military, I decided to fix it up.
It was a big job. I redid the plumbing, added electricity, and extended the shack into a proper cabin. Been living here ever since.
The forest is my home now. Just me and the fir trees, towering up like cathedrals, making everything feel far away. All the shit I saw in the military. My past as a sniper. The wilderness doesn’t give a shit about any of it. Out here, I don’t have to answer to anybody. It’s isolated. Off-grid.
The kind of place where I shouldn’t have to deal with people knocking on my damn door.
With a grunt of annoyance, I head toward the sound.
I figure it must be Clay. He’s the closest thing I have to a friend out here—a fellow veteran.
We both joined the military young. Both know how broken the world feels after you leave.
Neither of us ever learned how to live as civilians.
Hell, we never really tried. We keep to the forest, crossing paths occasionally, helping each other when necessary.
We don’t ask questions. Don’t push for details.
I pretend not to notice his prosthetic leg.
He pretends not to notice my missing fingers.
When I open the door, a blast of icy wind floods into the cabin, snowflakes tumbling through the trees outside. I’m expecting to see Clay with his axe slung over his back.
I’m sure as hell not expecting the young woman on my doorstep.
Our eyes meet, and my mouth goes dry as I take her in.
She’s beautiful.
So fucking beautiful.
Her pretty face is soft and rounded, cheeks ruddy from the cold.
I see her plump lips part as we stare at each other, golden brown eyes blinking up at me, thick-lashed and doe-like.
Her hair falls to her chest, shining like ink against the red wool of her coat, and I can’t stop my gaze drifting down to her body.
Holy shit.
The way she fills out her clothes sucks the breath from my lungs. The fabric hugs her plump curves tight, sending all my blood rushing downward. One look at this woman and my cock is already swelling in my boxers, thick and heavy against my leg.
“Hi,” she says.
I can’t speak. My tongue feels frozen, jaw slack.
The fuck is happening to me?
“Who are you?” I ask roughly.
The girl swallows hard. “Uh…you’re Thorne Dalton, right?”
“I know who I am,” I grit out. “I’m asking who you are.”
There’s a beat of silence as the girl looks at me warily. Probably debating whether to turn around and run away. Little Red Riding Hood running from the Big Bad Wolf. Hell, I wish she would. I can’t handle her staring at me with those pretty brown eyes.
“My name’s Aria Lawson,” she says eventually.
The surname is familiar.
“You related to Bonnie?” I ask.
“I’m her granddaughter.”
There’s a hint of an accent when she speaks. New York. Hell, Aria has city girl written all over her. Expensive coat. Unscuffed boots. Neatly polished nails. Bonnie’s son, Frank, moved to New York back when I was just a teen. This must be his kid. Which means…
Shit.
The pieces fall into place with a jolt of realization.
“You’re here about the cabin.”
My words are a low growl—a statement, not a question.
“Yes.” Aria bites her lip. “I’m here to talk about it.”
When my dad left me this cabin, I knew it was only half mine. The other half belongs to Bonnie’s son, Frank Lawson. But he’s never shown any interest in this place. Hell, why would he care about some tiny log cabin? The man is busy making serious money in New York real estate.
I don’t give a damn what the paperwork says.
This place is mine.
It’s taken years of hard work to make it a home, and now some pampered princess thinks she can show up and take it from me.
“Can I come in?” Aria asks.
“No.”
Her face falls. “I just want to talk, Thorne.”
Hearing my name in her sweet little voice loosens something in my chest. I know I’m being an asshole.
This girl is half my age, half my size, and looks intimidated as hell.
But I can’t help feeling pissed. She doesn’t need this cabin, and neither does her dad.
Hell, the man’s a multi-millionaire. They must live a life of luxury back in the city.
What could they possibly want with my tiny little cabin?
“Listen, princess,” I say gruffly, “if you want to talk, get your dad to call me. Doesn’t need to send his kid to do his dirty work.” I start to close the door on her.
“My dad’s dead.”
My hand freezes on the door handle, ice slipping down my gut. I look at Aria. Her mouth quivers, but she meets my gaze without wavering.
“I’m sorry…didn’t know.”
I barely knew Frank Lawson. Only met him once or twice before he moved to New York when I was a teenager. But I feel my chest tighten in sympathy as I look at the daughter he left behind.
“He had a heart attack three months ago,” she says, blinking hard. “He left me half this place in his will. That’s why I’m here…” She tapers off with a shiver, an icy chill cutting through the surrounding forest.
Don’t do it, Thorne.
Don’t invite her in.
Bad fucking idea.
But then she shivers again, hugging herself against the cold.
“Guess you better come in,” I mutter, the words out before I can stop them.
“Thank you.”
She brushes past me as she enters the cabin—the slightest contact—but it’s enough to make my breath catch.
I shut the door and follow her into the living room, already regretting inviting her in.
Being around this girl is making my head spin.
Having her on my doorstep was driving me crazy enough…
and now she’s in my home. The same home she thinks she has a claim to.
Definitely a bad idea.
I gesture to the fireplace and Aria stands in front of it, warming her hands. My living room is too small for two people, and I feel like the walls are closing in as I face Aria, crossing my arms.
“So…” she says. “Like I said, I’m here to talk through our options.”
“I only invited you inside to warm up for a minute. You’re not staying.”
“But—”
“You want to talk options, princess? Get your lawyer to call me.”
Aria frowns, defiance flashing in her eyes. “Two things. One, I’m not a princess. Two, I don’t need a lawyer to tell you I have a fifty-percent share of this cabin. We both know I do.”
Goddammit, I swear she looks even prettier when she’s all riled up. I shouldn’t notice. She’s too young. But fuck, it’s impossible to ignore Aria’s beauty…even if she’s just a spoiled city girl trying to take my cabin.
“Listen, princess—”
“Stop calling me—
“I said listen—”
“No, you listen, caveman!” Aria snaps, crossing her arms to mirror me. “See? Nicknames can go both ways.” She sucks in a breath, trying to calm herself. “Like I’ve said a million times, I’m just here to talk. I want us to sit down together and discuss our options.”
I know she’s being reasonable. Sensible. Hell, she’s barely into her twenties, and she’s acting more mature than I am right now at forty-two. I should man up. Sit down and talk to her like she asked.
But I can’t.
My resolve is crumbling every time I look at Aria.
I can feel my control coming undone, my body aching for her.
I’ve never felt this way before. My pulse is thudding in my ears as I look into those pretty brown eyes, clenching my fists to stop myself from reaching out.
Pulling her close. Kissing that sweet mouth. Touching her soft curves.
Fuck, this is dangerous.
I need her to leave. Right now. Before I lose my mind completely.
“Thorne?” she asks, still waiting for me to speak.
“I need you to go.”
“But—”
“Get your lawyer to call.”
Aria purses her lips, frowning at me. “I can’t go.”
“Why not?”
“My grandma dropped me off. I’ll have to call her.”
I wave off her words. “We’ll take my truck.”
I’m not prepared to wait around. The sooner this girl is gone, the sooner I can unscramble my damn brain. I’m already heading back toward the front door and into the forest, Aria hurrying after me.
It’s snowing harder now, with buckets of fat white flakes swirling around us.
“Thorne, for goodness’ sake,” Aria protests, struggling to keep up with my strides. “Is this really necessary? Would it be so hard to just talk to me?” She sounds almost hurt, and it makes my heart ache.
Fuck, she has no idea what she’s doing to me.
“Just let me get you home, Aria,” I tell her, trying to soften my gruffness.
I hear her sigh, but she doesn’t argue. Instead, she follows me through the trees to my truck. There are tire marks in the snow behind it, presumably where Bonnie dropped her off earlier.
I pull open the passenger-side door of my truck. As Aria climbs in, I catch the scent of her sweet perfume, breathing it in. It clings to me as I jump into the driver’s seat and slide my key into the ignition, turning it. The engine cranks, about to catch.
Then it stalls.
Scowling, I turn the key again.
This time, the engine flares to life. I ease my foot off the gas and the truck rolls forward. Then it shudders to a halt. Stalled again.
“God-fucking-dammit.”
I try again. And again. Sometimes the engine sputters. Sometimes it starts, running for a couple of seconds before it stalls again. I think back to a few days ago when my truck was buried by a blizzard. The cold must have damaged something.
“Maybe I could call Grandma,” Aria says hesitantly.
“No. I’m not asking Bonnie to drive up here in this.” My mind races with possibilities, running through what to do. But there’s only one option.
“You’ll have to stay for now,” I grunt, scowling bitterly at the snow falling outside the window.
“Jeez,” Aria says. “Maybe try to cool it a little with the excitement.”