4. Corinne
Corinne
I’m finding it hard to think straight, but it’s not from fatigue, dehydration, or the general pain I feel everywhere, compliments of chipmunks and bear mace.
Well, maybe they’re playing a small role in my inability to concentrate, but the biggest reason is kneeling in front of me.
The man I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since I saw him earlier is tending to me. Caring for me. Touching me.
I don’t understand what it is about his hands that drives my body wild, but from the moment he threw me onto his shoulder, I’ve been all mixed up.
Tingles and a racing heartbeat. Flushed and then freezing.
Panic to calm. It’s like there’s a chimpanzee in charge of my body and emotions, flipping switches, sliding buttons, and turning knobs at random to ensure I have no idea what to expect next.
Maverick wrings out warm water from a cloth and then grabs my calf in one hand, wiping the mud and forest grime. My other foot soaks in the tub of warm water as I try to sink back into the chair and relax. But it’s hard with Maverick’s hands on me and not a wedding band in sight. Maybe I was wrong.
“So what brings you here?” He dips the cloth in the water again, and I shiver lightly as it caresses the arch of my foot.
I swallow. “A wedding.”
Immediately, the air shifts. His muscles tense. His grip tightens around my calf. It feels… possessive. Protective. I like it.
“Where’s your man?” he rasps, gruffly. It comes out less like a question than a demand. “He let you out here on the mountain alone in a storm like this?”
His grip relaxes, and then he removes his hand and scrubs his face. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Shouldn’t have?—”
“It’s fine.” Tingles dance along my skin as I smile. “It’s not my wedding. I’m the photographer. And I don’t have a man,” I add, pausing as I notice him perk up a little. Hell, even Hank chitters, running over and patting Maverick on his back.
I blush, liking his reaction far more than I should. His hands returning to my leg might be helping too.
“I saw the mountains from town, so I thought I’d take a little hike up here.” I want to mention the diner, hoping that maybe he remembered me, but I also don’t want to get my hopes up.
…or sound like a weirdo stalker. It’s not like I planned this.
Maverick grunts, setting my left foot down in the basin and turning his attention to the right. I cringe when he picks it up.
“I’m sorry,” Maverick blurts, setting my foot back down. “Didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I blink, sighing as the acute pain subsides. “It’s more tender than I thought, I guess. It’s been one of those days. But this is helping me so much. I feel like I’m at a spa.”
Maverick eases up, turning his attention back to my foot. He’s been gentle the entire time, but now he’s really being delicate with me, and it sends a fluttering sensation through my chest.
He laughs to himself, shaking his head.
I peer down at him curiously. “What?”
“Just thought you were kinda right with that spa comment. You’ve got the mud mask and everything.”
I snort, touching my face. It feels rough and soft and mushy, the mud in various states of hardness.
I should probably care more about the mess I’m in, but I don’t want to ruin this good thing I have going on.
Besides, if I looked insane, Maverick would tell me, right?
He’d be gentle about it. Here’s a warm washcloth for your face, sweetheart.
I’m getting chills, thinking about it. “I guess you’re right.
You know, you could charge a pretty penny for this kind of treatment. ”
“Mountain Mud…” he mutters. “Just need to teach Hank how to give a proper massage, and I think we’ll be in business.”
“You’ll have customers flocking here.”
But then I have a strange thought and an even stranger feeling.
I know we’re only joking, but the idea of Maverick rubbing other women’s feet sends a jab of jealousy through me.
Whoa. I really need to calm down. And eat.
I’m still starving, so that’s why I’m all over the place, thinking crazy thoughts about Maverick.
Hunger, exhaustion, and stress—it’s the wicked combo.
“I’ll have to shut down my woodshop.”
“Well, maybe wait until the money starts flowing. You’ll have to tell me what I owe you after this.”
Maverick’s holding the washcloth above the basin, letting it drip. The silence between us hangs longer than I expect.
“Only thing I want is for you not to go out on that mountain alone again.” His voice turns dark. Shadows on his face. “You don’t know what kind of danger you can walk into.” He looks at me seriously but then relaxes, smiling. “Chipmunks can get a little wily.”
I laugh as he begins working on my foot again. I’m pretty sure both feet are clean, but he’s being thorough. I don’t mind.
“That’s what started this whole thing. They ambushed me on a trail.”
“You met the Chipmunk Crew?”
“Have they terrorized you, too?”
Maverick nods. “We’ve got a truce. I make sure they’ve got a feeder full of nuts and seeds, and they leave me and Hank alone when we’re wandering through their territory.”
Territory? They are a gang.
“Which reminds me,” Maverick says, leaning back as he scratches his head. “I think I forgot this week’s supply.”
I snort. “So I can blame you for this one.”
Maverick smiles, and it sends a jolt through my core—the way it stands out from beneath his thick beard and reaches his kind eyes, a deep brown. Warm and inviting, like I’m looking into a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
“I’ll shoulder the blame. So now we’re about even.”
“About?”
“I need you to promise me not to explore the mountain on your own. At least, stick to the well-worn trails during the daytime. Deal?”
I shake my head.
“Oh?”
I slip my feet out of the warm basin. Maverick’s gaze dips momentarily, and I swear I hear him groan.
“I want you to show me around. I’m sure you know some of the best places to photograph, given you’re a real-life mountain man.”
Maverick lets out a rumbling laugh. “Is that what I am?”
My smile wobbles. “Aren’t you?” My voice is a little softer, more brittle.
He sighs and rests his hand on my knee. “I guess I am. Sure, why not?”
At least, that’s what I think he says. My mind is on his hand.
The weight of it. The feel of it. It’s like there’s a ten-pound dumbbell resting on my leg right now, and all I can think about is how it would feel elsewhere.
Everywhere. Slipping beneath the hem of my shirt.
Cupping my breast. Those fingers digging into my flesh.
Digging into my— ahem. I need to pump the brakes.
This is not how I usually am. I don’t feel this strongly about anyone so fast. I… shouldn’t. No one can, right?
I clear my throat, but Maverick takes it as my way of bringing attention to his hand.
He removes it from my leg. “Sorry.”
The only thing he should apologize for is not sliding it further up my leg. Yup. I’m definitely succumbing to my hunger and exhaustion.
“I can show you some spots tomorrow. So long as this storm lets up.”
“Are they usually this bad?”
He smiles, and again, I feel a jolt, a million little needles prickling all over my body.
“I’ve been through worse. Haven’t lost power, so that’s?—”
We lose power.
Hank chitters.
Maverick groans. I can hear him grabbing at his beard. “Shouldn’t have said that.”
I search for the basin with my foot, but instead I find Maverick’s leg. At least, I hope it’s his leg.
He lets out a guttural sound before readjusting himself. “I’ll get some candles. A fire, too. Should’ve started that earlier.”
There’s a different edge to his voice. I can feel it more than hear it. It rolls over my skin as the darkness heightens other senses.
“Okay.”
A few moments later, Maverick’s back with a couple of candles.
“Thanks,” I say as he hands me one.
He grunts as he turns around and heads for the wood stove. I watch in awe as he goes to work. Picking out different-sized logs and arranging them. It’s a shame it’s so dark. I bet his back muscles would look phenome— No.
I have a wedding I need to focus on. Very expensive equipment locked up in my car, which hopefully hasn’t been washed down the mountain or destroyed by a downed tree. A lump forms in my chest at the thought of it.
The lights flicker and then turn back on right as he gets the fire started.
“Figures,” he says, grinning over his shoulder at me.
I fight another wave of feelings.
“The universe has a sense of humor.”
He stands up. And up… I forgot how massive Maverick is. He’s well over six feet tall, probably a foot taller than me. And he’s as wide and thick and muscular as any professional football player.
“Must be having quite the laugh at us, huh?”
I swallow. I have no idea what he just said. I’m still focused on those tree trunk limbs. The way his callused hands felt on my skin.
“I’m sorry. I’m not used to guests. I’ll get you something to eat. How’s stew sound?”
I shake myself out of my daze. “Stew?”
“Big pot full of vegetables, meat, and broth. Good stuff, had it?”
I snort. “Yes. They do have stew in the city.”
“Not as good as mine.”
“Oh yeah?”
He dusts off his hands before extending one to me. “I’ll let you be the judge.” I take his hand, and he pulls me to my feet gently. “But first, I should get you cleaned up. Out of those dirty clothes and into something?—”
His eyes flare at what must be a ridiculous expression on my face. “I-uh-I didn’t mean it like that.”
He steps back, unfortunately, he steps on the basin of water, knocking it over and spilling water all over the floor.
“Shit,” he mutters, rushing off toward the back of the cabin as I try to keep it together, trying my best not to think about Maverick undressing me.
Why not like that?
He comes back moments later, cleaning up the water with a couple of towels, Hank sitting off to the side, chittering away with glee.
I bend over to help as Maverick glances over his shoulder at Hank. “Keep laughing, and you won’t get any stew.”
That silences him. Maverick glances at me, winks, and then smiles before he puts his head down, scrubbing the ground with one of the towels.
“How about that shower?” Maverick asks as we finish up. “I can get the stew going.”
“That sounds great.” I could use the moment to clear my head.
Maverick shoves the towels into the basin and then stands up. “Shower’s through the bedroom.”
I follow him, looking around. I only see one bedroom, and when I walk through it, I only see one bed. Uhhh… I’m not going to think about it right now. But I can’t help it because of how Maverick’s looking at me. He’s sizing me up from head to toe, and he’s not being subtle about it.
“Yup,” he says simply before setting the basin down on the bed and heading for his closet. “My sister visited a few weeks ago. Left some stuff here. I think it should fit you fine.”
It’s surprising how disappointed I am that he was actually sizing me up.
“Thanks,” I say when he hands me leggings, a shirt, and a cute, oversized sweater.
“Afraid I’m all out of underwear, unless you want some boxers.”
Maybe… no.
“They’d probably look like pants on me. Or a tent,” I add, bumping him with my hip. I inwardly slap my forehead. What was that ?
He smiles. “Guess there’s a little bit of a size difference between us.”
Little… There’s nothing little about this man. I’m not the smallest girl in the world, but next to him, I look like a doll. I stare at him. The breadth of him. I’ve never seen such broad, thick shoulders. Never seen a man as tall as him in real life. Never…
I’m staring. Hard. And he’s noticing that I’m staring, his smile growing wider as he folds his arms beneath his chest.
“Just a little bit.” It comes out squeaky. He laughs, and my face lights up.
“Shower’s there.” He gestures to the door behind me. “Towels too. If you need anything else, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
I nod, heading for the bathroom before I find a new way to embarrass myself. The bathroom is surprisingly spacious for a cabin, although I’m sure that’s out of necessity for Maverick. And?—
“ Agghhhhh— Oh my god!”
Anyone else in my position would scream too if they saw that reflection. And by that, I mean me. I’m completely covered in mud from head to toe. Twigs and leaves are plastered to my head, and my hair is an absolute abomination. I look like a swamp creature.
The cabin shakes as Maverick charges from the other room. “Corinne,” he shouts. “Corinne, are you okay?” The cabin stops shaking as he grinds to a halt outside the door. “Are you decent in there?”
I stare at the door, back at my reflection, and then at the door and laugh. It takes me a few moments, but I recover, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“I’m clothed, but I wouldn’t go as far as saying I’m decent.”
I push the door open. Maverick’s breathing heavily, confused and concerned as he stares at me.
“What?”
“Why didn’t you tell me I look like the Loch Ness monster coming up for air after a decade? I’m a mess!”
Maverick continues staring at me, relaxing for a brief moment before the air shifts and something ignites in his eyes. He swallows.
“Corinne,” he rasps, gruff and serious. “You look like a damn angel.”