2. Hunter
Chapter two
Hunter
Over the past couple of years, Greg talked about his daughter constantly. She’s his holy grail of topics—and given that she never bothered to visit him, I haven't formed the fondest view of her up until this point.
She's the sole piece of his past he ever shared, always reassuring me she's as sweet-hearted as the career she picked over him. I don't think I'd heard him say a single bad thing about her in the time we'd known each other, despite the circumstances.
The stubborn bastard could’ve at least prepared me a little better if he planned on dragging her up this mountain. A few photos of her bakery’s pastries on social media didn’t do a damn thing to prepare me for Juniper.
If he’d shown me even one picture of her smile, proving that sweetness he claimed, maybe holding a conversation with her wouldn't have felt like trying to catch my breath underwater.
Now I’m useless in my own home, pacing my floor, restless as hell because I can’t stop worrying about whether she’s alright over there in that old cabin by her lonesome.
I saw the wisps of smoke curling from her chimney throughout the hours of the day, and even more once the sun had set, so at least she’s figured out the fireplace enough to survive through her first night.
But that’s only scratching the surface.
Greg’s old cabin is drafty, outdated, and practically begging for a heavy snowfall to knock out the power. For a woman like her to show up out of nowhere in the dead of winter... It’s a miracle I haven't marched through the snow and demanded she let me help in some way.
Greg would probably rise from the dead and haunt me if I didn't look after the one person he cherished most—though right now, I'm pretty sure my own heart is doing most of the pushing.
He'd also kick my ass if he knew what kind of thoughts were going on in my head.
By now, I shouldn't be thinking about her, let alone worrying about someone who isn't my problem.
Cursing under my breath as my eyes fall onto the blinds I've purposely left parted to see through, my gaze lingers on that cabin. From here, I've got a pretty good view of who's on the porch. It's how I caught her trying to get in the first time.
Juniper hasn't stepped out in hours. What is she doing inside of there, anyway?
Does she plan on moving into that cabin, making it her own? Greg would've wanted that.
I don't know if I can handle having a new face hanging around so close, especially one that's so pretty that I lose focus on everything else.
It's a miracle I haven't driven myself crazy with worry.
One whole day has gone by. Surely, if I saw her again, I'd be able to act right, wouldn't I?
Driving myself crazy without an answer, I can't sit back and watch for a minute longer. Getting up, I let my body take charge this time. It moves all on its own.
A man my age should know better, but I'll be damned if I can admit that I have any say in this matter.
Moving toward my front door, I shove my feet into my boots, grab my heavy flannel coat, and step out into the bite of the mountain air. My hands find my shovel before my head can talk me out of it.
Clearing a path from her cabin to that ridiculous little car of hers is just basic neighborly courtesy.
That's what I tell myself, anyway. That sedan had no business surviving the drive up here in the first place, and if she tries to take it back down the mountain, she'll slide straight off the ridge.
If she needs to leave, I'll drive her in my truck. I'll make sure she's safe. It's practical. It's necessary. And if it gives me an excuse to hear her voice again... well, Greg doesn't need to know that part.
I throw myself into the work, letting the rhythm of scoop, lift, and throw take over.
The snow is wet and stubborn, going so far as to continue falling around me as I work, but I push through it, carving a clean, wide path through the drift.
Ten minutes in, the bite of the winter wind doesn't feel so cold anymore.
A burning heat spreads across my shoulders, and a line of sweat trickles down the back of my neck, clinging to my shirt beneath my thick flannel coat.
I pause, leaning on the handle of the shovel to catch my breath, and glance up at the cabin.
There—a soft flutter behind the front window pane. The blinds flutter shut so little, I almost miss it. Without realizing, I've been watched.
I hold my breath, watching the front porch next, hoping there will be more movement. The door stays firmly shut, but an involuntary tug hits the corner of my mouth. It’s fine that she doesn’t come out. She doesn't owe me a conversation or even a glimpse of her beauty again.
Hell, I'm willing to bet she has her hands full right now to entertain me in any sort of way.
I tighten my grip on the handle and dig back in, driving the blade deep into the white powder. If all I can do for her today is clear her path, then so be it.
Once I'm numb to the touch and shuffling back toward my cabin, I happen to glance toward the side of hers. Before I can even cross the property line, I stop and stare at the few logs left over and the axe that had been left out and long forgotten.
I wouldn't be surprised if the blade is long rusted and dull. No one has needed to chop wood for the cabin in weeks.
She wouldn't be able to cut any wood with a weapon like that. Does she even know where to get wood? Rather, how much will she need? Do I need to make a call to get her stocked up for the rest of the season?
That'll take too long with all of this snow. For now... I've got plenty to give.
What she currently has won't be enough to survive through a second night.
Without thinking twice, I return home to swap out my shovel for a few chopped pieces of lumber. Sharing is caring, and it guarantees that I'll be able to sleep through the night without worrying about her teeth chattering.
By the time I've given her a decent chunk of my stash, I'm finally feeling exhausted enough to settle inside my home.
Hoping that what I'd done will be enough to help her get by, I'm abandoning everything to lie back on my couch.
Seeking a little relief by taking a nap, sleep comes easily the moment my eyes slide shut.
Unfortunately, peace is the last thing waiting for me. My mind immediately drags me back to her—to the flash of her pink lips, the mouthwatering curve of her hips, and the soft, maddening look in her eyes.
I try to pull back, telling myself she’s off-limits, but my subconscious doesn't care about honor.
She haunts every corner of my sleep until I’m burning up in my own skin and fighting a battle I'm already losing.
It's the sudden knock at my front door that brings me out of my sleep. Wondering if I'd imagined it, seeing as my list of people who would visit is now nearly empty, I hear it again. Another string of polite knocks that's impossible to deny.
Stumbling to my feet in a daze, it's a miracle I don't trip over my feet by the time I reach the front door. I pull it open, and a cool breeze clashes with the heat radiating from my skin.
Juniper is standing on the other side, the tip of her nose and cheeks pink from the cold air. In her hands, she's holding a tray of what looks like cookies.
"Sorry to bother you, but I saw what you'd done. I don't really have much to return to show you my appreciation, but there were enough ingredients to make some of these cookies." She bites her bottom lip like she's nervous.
Did I startle her that badly during that first conversation?
"If it's not strange or anything..." Releasing her lip and wetting it with the swipe of her tongue, she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. "I'm used to repaying favors with sweets where I come from. They should be pretty good, despite how limited I was."
She continues rambling, revealing something new about herself. The plastic wrap crinkles under her grip as she clutches it tighter.
Looking at the platter, at the cookies that look like they've barely had enough time to cool off from the steam clinging to the top, I swallow thickly.
"You don't have to—" I start but pause when I notice the soft fall of snow suddenly drifting from the sky. The way the small flakes cling to her dark strands has me swallowing hard. "That's kind of you. I've heard good things about your baked goods."
Taking the platter from her hands, I feel its warmth against my touch.
"But don't worry about going out of your way. I was happy to help. I would've done it for your father." Trying to pull away from the force that's keeping my eyes on her and failing terribly, a new thought crosses my mind. One I shouldn't entertain.
Yet, once it's there, the damage is already done.
Without thinking twice, my next question slides right off my tongue.
"Would you like to come inside?"
Her brows lift in surprise, but she doesn't immediately shake her head. Instead, she wraps her arms around herself and nods. "Yeah, I could use a break anyway."
With that, she steps inside, promising me the next few minutes, or even an hour, to be incredibly difficult and more than a man in my shoes deserves.