Chapter 6
FLINT
Another sleepless night.
Feels wrong to sleep when I know Willa has been up all night working at Fireside Lodge.
When I woke her up from her nap earlier, shaking her softly awake, she was clearly still exhausted.
Her eyes were red as if she’d been crying, and she didn’t talk much when I walked her back to her car and watched her drive away.
Now, I sit up in bed and run a hand over my face with a groan.
My alarm clock says it’s after six. Willa will be asleep now, catching a couple of hours in the back room at the hotel.
I imagine her curled up on some dingy couch, dead to the world.
I could drive to Fireside Lodge right now.
Pick her up and bring her home with me. Tell her she’ll never have to worry again.
But Willa is stubborn.
The kind of woman who’d rather sell her own virginity than touch her best friend’s savings.
She’s wary, too. I saw that yesterday when I brought her to my cabin to sleep.
The way she looked at me, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Bracing for a blow. She’s strong as hell, tough as nails, but life has clearly broken her down, and I can’t risk spooking her.
Scaring her away. If there’s one thing I learned from her resume, it’s that she’s no stranger to skipping town, moving around.
I can’t risk losing her.
All I can do is wait for the auction money to hit her account.
She must have seen my bid by now.
I grab my phone from the nightstand and open First Encounters.
The auction closes tonight, and I’ve been checking the listing regularly, making sure my anonymous bid is still the highest. It’s a relief every time I see that $100,000 beneath Willa’s profile, but if someone bids higher, I’m ready.
I’ll pay whatever it takes. Hell, I’d sell my company. Sell my cabin. Whatever I have to do.
With a heavy sigh, I roll out of bed and take a shower. Once I’m washed and dressed, I head for the front door, pausing in front of the guest room where Willa took her nap. Something twangs in my chest, a deep longing that makes me wish I’d never let her go yesterday.
Fuck, this girl has wrecked me.
I need to head outside and chop wood. I’m already behind after spending all that time in the office with Willa. But my feet are moving of their own accord, instinct propelling me into the kitchen where I grab the keys to my truck.
It’s just before seven when I begin the drive down the mountain.
I arrive at Creekside Diner twenty minutes later, heart thumping as I pull up outside the sage-green, clapboard building.
I rarely come into town. I prefer to roam the forest than traipse around stores and cafes full of people, but right now, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
I spot her car as I head for Creekside—that rusted little Honda parked in the corner.
She’s here.
A bell jingles as I push open the diner door, and the smell of bacon and coffee hits me as I step inside. This place looks vaguely familiar: black-and-white checkered floor, chrome stools, red vinyl booths. I look toward the counter as I enter, but I don’t see Willa.
There are a few guys I recognize in here. Brewer Benson, a fellow lumberjack who I often bump into in the forest. A couple of tree fellers from my second crew—new guys who I only know by sight.
But it’s not them I’m here to see.
I take a seat at a booth near the counter, nodding over at Brewer. Then I wait.
Willa comes out of the kitchen a couple of minutes later and my breath catches.
She’s wearing an apron that wraps tight around her curves, with the words Creekside Diner stitched on the front.
Her dark hair frames her pretty face, her features tight with exhaustion.
Even when she’s barely holding it together, she looks like an angel.
She doesn’t notice me at first. I watch as she busies herself making coffee, serving a customer at the counter. Her eyes are bloodshot, lined with circles, but she still manages to smile as she hands them a steaming mug of coffee. Her gaze drifts past the customer and suddenly, our eyes lock.
Willa does a double-take, eyebrows lifting as she stares at me from across the diner.
Then she smiles, her face lighting up in a way that almost makes me come undone.
She says something to another server behind the counter, then makes a beeline for me, and everything else melts away.
The booths, the tables, the customers—gone. All I can see is Willa.
“Hi,” she says warmly, stopping at my booth. “I’ve never seen you in here before.”
“Figured I’d give it a try.”
It must be obvious that I’m here to see her. Hell, she must be able to see my feelings written all over my face—the urgent need that buzzes through me every time she’s near. But if she senses it, she doesn’t let on.
“What can I get for you?” she asks.
I’ve been too busy staring at Willa to look at the menu.
“You choose.”
She cocks her head. “How about the Creekside Special? You get bacon, eggs, hash browns—”
“Sure.”
I don’t care what I eat. I’m not here for the food.
“Coming right up,” Willa says.
She doesn’t leave straight away. She hovers next to the booth, holding my gaze for a beat too long. Then she drops her voice to a murmur.
“Thanks again for yesterday, Flint.”
My heart jolts, just like it does every time she says my name in that sweet voice.
“I told you. Don’t mention it.”
“I want to mention it,” she says stubbornly. “You didn’t have to do that. It was really kind…it meant a lot.”
She sounds so earnest, so damn grateful, that all I can do is nod, swallowing down the lump in my throat.
Then she turns on her heel and gets back to work.
I watch her while I wait for my food. She never slows down.
Never stops, even for a moment. She’s always moving: taking orders, bringing out food, making drinks behind the counter. This girl doesn’t half-ass anything.
As my gaze follows her around the diner, I think back to her conversation by the creek with her friend.
I still have so many questions. How did Willa end up with $80,000 of debt—the kind of debt that leads to threatening phone calls?
What did she need to borrow all that money for?
She’s so damn young…doesn’t she have anybody who can help? Parents? Family?
Or is this angel all alone in the world?
The thought gnaws at me. I know how it feels to have nobody.
I was still young when my mom died, and it changed me.
Forced me to grow up fast. Get used to relying on myself.
I see a lot of that in Willa, and I’m still wondering about it when she brings out my breakfast a few minutes later, setting the giant plate of food down in front of me, along with a mug of black coffee.
“Here you go,” she says. “The coffee’s extra strong with a teaspoon of sugar.”
I frown. “You know how I take my coffee?”
“I’ve seen how you make it in the office.” Her cheeks pinken slightly. “Do you want anything else?”
“No. Thanks, Willa.”
She heads back to the counter, and I try to ignore the thud of my heart as I take a sip from my mug.
So what if she noticed how I take my coffee?
It doesn’t mean anything, but it still fills me with warmth to know that she was paying attention.
I eat my breakfast, too focused on Willa to really taste it. Occasionally, she’ll meet my gaze and shoot me a quick smile, and my stomach will jolt so violently that I have to stop eating.
I’m so fucking tired of having to restrain myself.
All I want to do is lift Willa into my arms and take her away from here.
Out of this diner, out of this town and back to my cabin in the woods where I can take care of her.
I want to tell her she’s mine. That I felt it the moment I saw her, and that I’m going to protect her.
I want to tell her the truth about my bid—that it was me—and that I’ll never let another man put his hands on her.
That I’ll kill any man who tries.
Instinctively, I grab my phone and refresh First Encounters. My $100,000 is still the top bid. I’m winning this damn auction one way or another, which means Willa will find out the truth soon enough. Once the auction ends tonight, I’ll have to come clean. My bid will no longer be anonymous.
She’ll know her boss bid six figures on her virginity.
And she might hate me for it.