Page 253 of Mountain Men Heroes

“Do you live in town?”

“No, but not too far from here. I live on my family’s compound a little ways outside of city limits.”

I turned my head toward him. The words “family compound” set off an alarm in my brain. On one hand, I knew some wealthy families referred to their estates as compounds. But I was picturing something more like a commune out in the wilderness where you’d find groups of people waiting to suck down some Kool-Aid.

He glanced at me and grinned as if he could read my mind. “Don’t worry, beautiful. It’s not that kind of compound.” He chuckled. “I’m not the crazy mountain man with a wacky family. Promise. My family owns several hundred acres on this side of the mountain. Enough so we can live close, but not right on top of each other. It’s nice.”

The rest of the ride was pretty quiet. I spent it looking at the breathtaking scenery and praying I hadn’t made the biggest mistake of my life coming here.

“We’re here,” he said quietly as we turned off the main road onto a long paved track only wide enough for a single car.

I peered out of the windshield. There were several houses dotting spots along the tree line. But he had been honest. They weren’t right on top of each other.

He drove us for about a mile, past several homes—a couple of large log cabins, some low ranches painted in bright colors. He finally pulled into a driveway that led up to a sort of nondescript two-story home. The siding was beige and the shape was decidedly boxy. The back half of the house was lost to the forest behind it.

“Let me show you inside.” His voice was quiet, and I knew he was regretting his offer to bring me here.

But he hopped down from the truck and hefted my suitcase out before coming around to help me down. I glanced up at him and noticed his easy smile and the laugh lines beside his eyes were gone.

I sighed as we took the steps up to his front door. Obviously, my story hadn’t been as believable as I’d hoped.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment before I opened them again and followed him inside. How stupid could I be? The man was a trained Special Forces soldier, that much he did tell me. His instincts had been honed and harnessed in ways I probably couldn’t even imagine. And I’d hoped to tell my stupid, stupid story and get away with it.

“I’m an idiot,” I shared as we stepped into his entryway.

“Care to explain?” He dropped my suitcase near the door and gestured me to walk in front of him into the house.

I stepped through the entryway…and straight into something from a storybook.

Four

Gabriella

Istopped dead and held my breath. I felt like I’d walked into some magical kingdom. The entryway opened to a great room that took up the entire first floor of the house. The ceilings were high and the house comfortably furnished with oversized everything—big brown couches and plaid chairs, massive dining room table, extra-large coffee table fronting the ginormous stone fireplace. And a few things that screamed bachelor—newspapers and an empty coffee mug on the table, dishes in the sink, a few flannel shirts tossed over the back of one of the chairs.

No candles, flowers, or pretty throw blankets to soften the harder masculine edges.

I absorbed all those details as my eyes skimmed over the room. They weren’t what held my attention, though. What grabbed me was the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the entire back half of the house.

The home had been built into the surrounding forest. From the front, it looked like a boring old house. From inside, it was pure magic. The forest had continued to grow around the house long after construction on the place stopped. Lush green plants and massive trees created a protective shield while the carpet of soft pine needles invited one to step out and be taken in by nature.

Much like people wanted to live right on the beach, dip their toes in the sand the second they stepped off their back porch, Mac built his home just as close to the green vegetation for the same effect.

Light barely penetrated the canopy of branches so I couldn’t see too deeply into the forest. But I could feel it. It was palpable, like my beating heart or the blood thrumming through my veins. And here I thought I loved the sand and surf.

I took one step and then another, until I touched the cool glass, the magic of the place drawing me closer.

“Gabriella?”

I turned at the sound of my name, almost surprised to find Mac standing a few feet away.

“You okay?”

I nodded and turned back to the glass, placing a palm against it, longing to brush my fingertips over the wispy fronds of plants and to feel the softness of the pine needles under my feet. To grab Mac’s hand and find a beautiful place under the green canopy and make love.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” I kept my voice quiet. Anything louder felt disrespectful, like screaming in church. “I just didn’t expect this. It’s…beautiful.”

The word was inadequate, but it was the best I could do.

---