The Mountain Man’s Paradise (Fixated #1)

1. Barrett

BARRETT

Istep out of the hotel shuttle and into wet heat.

Then I just stand there with my duffel bag in my fist and the sun beating down on my shoulders, trying to figure out how the hell anyone calls this paradise.

The air is thick with salt and flowers and some sweet drink sweating in a glass somewhere nearby.

People move around the resort in linen and swimsuits, laughing too loud, smiling too much, every one of them looking comfortable with palm trees, blue water, and sand tracked across polished stone.

I look down at my boots.

Wrong choice.

Not that I own the right choice for this place.

Back home, I know what to wear because the weather will try to kill you if you get careless.

Heavy socks. Good boots. Layers that hold up against wind, snow, rain, mud, and every other damn thing the mountain decides to throw at you.

Here, I’m wearing jeans and a black T-shirt, and I already feel sweat gathering between my shoulder blades while a guy in a resort uniform asks if he can take my bag.

“I’ve got it,” I say.

His smile doesn’t shift. “Of course, sir. Welcome to Maui.”

Maui. Jesus.

I nod once and follow the signs toward the open-air lobby, keeping my duffel bag over one shoulder and my eyes moving.

Old habit. Entrances, exits, staff doors, stairwells, blind corners.

I don’t know how to enter a place without taking stock of it.

My brother says that’s because I spend too much time alone in the wilderness and not enough around normal people.

I say normal people are too comfortable ignoring everything around them.

This resort proves my point in under thirty seconds.

A woman almost backs into me while trying to take a picture of a cocktail.

A kid runs straight across the walkway with no shoes on.

A man in white pants leaves his suitcase unattended beside a column while he kisses a woman wearing a floppy hat.

Nobody notices a goddamn thing except the view.

I should be home.

That thought has been sitting in my chest since I boarded the plane, and it gets heavier with every step I take across the lobby.

My cabin is quiet. My tools are where I left them.

The west trail needs clearing, the porch rail needs tightening, and the stack of split wood beside the shed won’t finish itself.

Up there, I know what I’m doing. Down here, I’m a six-foot-five problem in a place built for bare feet and tan lines.

“Barrett!”

I turn toward the voice and see my younger brother crossing the lobby with his arm raised.

Noah looks happier than I’ve ever seen him, which is the only reason I’m here instead of three thousand miles away where I belong.

He’s tanned already, hair lighter from the sun, wearing a short-sleeved button-down covered in little green leaves.

I would give him shit for it if his fiancée weren’t walking beside him, glowing so hard I keep my mouth shut.

“There he is,” Noah says, stepping in to hug me. He slaps my back hard, but it still feels careful. Everyone is careful with me. “You made it.”

“I said I would.”

“Yeah, but you also said destination weddings were a crime against guests.”

“They are.”

His grin gets wider. “And yet you’re here.”

“Don’t get emotional about it.”

“I’m getting a little emotional about it.” He turns and pulls his fiancée closer. “Mindy, you remember Barrett.”

“Of course.” Mindy gives me a bright smile and reaches up to hug me. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot to Noah.”

I bend down and return the hug gently because Mindy is half my size and marrying the only person who could drag me to an island full of strangers. “Happy for you both.”

Noah’s expression softens before he clears his throat and looks past me. “We’re doing welcome drinks in about an hour. Very casual.”

I glance down at myself. “This is casual.”

Mindy’s mouth twitches, but she doesn’t laugh. Smart woman. “It’s fine. Most people are still arriving.”

“Great,” I say, because that means more strangers.

Noah angles toward me. “Try not to look at everyone as if they’re trespassing on your land.”

“They’re not on my land.”

“That’s the only reason they’re still alive?”

I stare at him.

He laughs and claps my shoulder. “Come on. I’ll get you checked in, then introduce you to a few people.”

“I don’t need introductions.”

“You’re the best man.”

“I’m aware.”

“Best men meet people.”

“Best men stand where they’re told and hand over rings.”

Mindy laughs and loops her arm through Noah’s. “Let him breathe for five minutes. He just got here.”

I like her for that. Noah chose well.

I let them guide me toward the desk, where a woman in a white blouse hands me a key card and tells me about the pool, the spa, the restaurants, the breakfast hours, the beach path, the fitness center, the luau, and at least six other things I have no intention of using.

I take the packet because refusing it would make Mindy fuss, then tuck it under my arm without reading a word.

I just need to get through this hour, then dinner, then whatever wedding thing comes next. Rehearsal. Ceremony. Pictures. Reception. Forty-eight hours from now, this weekend will be over and I’ll be on my way home.

Then I see her.

She walks in from the terrace with a garment bag over one arm and a clipboard tucked against her chest, talking to an older woman while she points toward the hallway near the elevators.

Her dress is the color of a ripe peach, soft against her sun-kissed skin, fitted over full hips and a rounded ass that makes every thought in my head stop cold.

Her dark hair is pinned up with loose pieces around her face, and when she smiles at something the older woman says, the entire goddamn lobby seems to tilt toward her.

I go still. Noah is saying something beside me, but I don’t hear him.

I watch the woman shift the garment bag higher on her arm, watch the ample curve of her waist, the smooth line of her bare shoulder, the way she moves with purpose without rushing.

She looks warm. Open. Comfortable in this bright, loud place in a way I will never be.

Then her eyes land on me.

Her steps slow.

It’s only a second. Maybe less. But she looks me over from my boots to my shoulders to my face, and her smile changes into something…

different. Something private enough to put heat low in my gut.

I don’t smile back. I don’t know if I remember how.

I just stand there holding my duffel bag, staring at a woman I’ve never met while my body decides she matters.

Fuck.

Mindy follows my line of sight and lights up. “Oh, good. Rosalyn’s here.”

Rosalyn.

The name settles in my chest. Hard.

Mindy waves her over. “Roz, come meet Barrett.”

Rosalyn says something to the older woman, hands off the garment bag, and walks toward us.

Every step makes me more aware of my hands, my size, my sweat-darkened shirt, the fact that I probably look as out of place as I feel.

She doesn’t seem bothered by any of it. If anything, her smile gets brighter when she stops in front of me and tips her head back to meet my eyes.

“You must be the mountain brother,” she says. Her voice is soft, but there’s humor in it.

“Barrett,” I say.

“I’m Rosalyn. Maid of honor.” She holds out her hand. Her fingers are overshadowed by my own, but her grip is steady. “Mindy told me you live somewhere with no cell service and actual bears.”

“Some cell service.”

“So the bears part is true.”

“Sometimes.”

Her eyes warm with amusement. “That’s very reassuring.”

I should let go of her hand. I know that.

We’ve completed the introduction. Normal people release each other and move the hell on.

But her skin is soft, her nails are painted pale pink, and she smells clean and sweet from the sun.

I loosen my grip before I do something stupid, and her fingers slide out of mine slowly enough to make my jaw go tight.

Noah makes a sound beside me that I ignore.

Mindy steps in. “Rosalyn has been saving my life all morning. The welcome bags got delivered to the wrong conference room, the florist called about the arch, and my aunt is trying to reorganize the seating chart.”

“I stopped the seating chart crisis,” Rosalyn says. “For now.”

“See?” Mindy looks at me. “Hero.”

Rosalyn lifts one shoulder. “Low-stakes hero.”

I look at her mouth. Then I force my eyes back up. “Still counts.”

Her smile slips for half a breath, and the air between us changes. I see how she notices it too. Her fingers tighten around the clipboard, and she glances down for the first time since she walked over.

Good. I’m not the only one.

A woman calls Rosalyn’s name from across the lobby. She turns, and irritation hits me fast and unreasonable. I don’t know this woman. I have no claim on her time. I have no damn reason to hate the fact that someone else needs her.

But I do.

“I have to fix one more thing,” she says, looking back at Mindy, then at me. “I’ll see you at the welcome drinks?”

“Yes,” Mindy answers before I can say anything.

Rosalyn’s eyes stay on mine. “Try not to escape before then, Barrett.”

“I wasn’t escaping.”

“No?” Her smile deepens. “You were thinking about it.”

Noah coughs into his fist.

I hold Rosalyn’s gaze and tell the truth. “Not anymore.”

Her lips part a few millimeters before she pulls herself back into motion. She gives me one last look, then turns and walks away toward the woman calling her name.

I watch her go. I know I shouldn’t, but I do it anyway because I’m not a saint and I’m sure as hell not blind. Her dress moves around her curvy legs, her hips shifting with each step, and every protective instinct I own wakes up.

It’s insane. It’s too fast. This isn’t how I live my life.

Rosalyn disappears around the corner, taking the only thing in this whole resort I want to look at, and the countdown in my head changes. I’m no longer counting the hours until I can leave.

I’m counting the seconds until I see her again.