Page 22 of Mountain Wood

“Good morning, gorgeous. Were you warm enough last night?” Dean smiles at the camera, but Iswear he’s staring straight at me and only me. My pussy agrees. “Look at how perfect you are. Stunning… just like this view.” He slowly spans the camera to show off the mountains behind his house. Then he brings the camera back to him and cocks his brow. “What do you want to do today? Because I’m alllll yours…”

My heart gallops in my chest. This video just woke up my fucking ovaries.

He took the bait. YES!

He’s already got a dozen comments, too.

I want to get dirty with you!

I swear this man is the only reason I’d ever consider being a morning person.

Oh my lawd.

I’d let you split me like you do that firewood.

Respectfully, please turn me into a Twinkie or Toaster Strudel. I beg.

I want you to turn my throat into a daycare.

“Atta boy.” I heart the video and add a comment:Is the sun the only thing rising this morning? #woodfordays

Closing the app, I stuff my phone in my coat pocket and find a stick for Oscar. “Wanna play fetch, girl?”

A loud whistle echoes across the woods and Oscar takes off, leaving me and the stick behind.

I end up taking a bunch of photos and B-roll at the stream before heading back to my cabin. This morning’s walk in the brisk weather is just the thing to get my creative juices going, but I’m forcing myself to do the bare minimum for now. It’s too easy, as a content creator, to spend all my time making newmaterial. I’m not here for work. I need to relax and make decisions about my future.

If only I could stay here forever.

There’s something so peaceful and perfect about this place. I’m a little sad I didn’t discover it sooner. Last night, Dean asked why I wasn’t staying at a “fancy” resort, and what I told him was the truth, but not the whole truth. I don’t want to be anywhere I could be recognized, for one. But they were also completely booked out and likely had been for several months. This was the only place available, within the distance I was willing to go, and seeing how barebones it is, I’m not too surprised.

He needs help running this place and the cabins are in desperate need of updates. It’s obvious he’s working on it, but renovations will take forever if he’s doing them all by himself.

“It’s not your business, Grace.”

Stomping up my porch steps, I kick the snow off the bottom of my boots. Dean’s truck rumbles past my cabin and stops two doors down. I walk around the porch to watch where he goes and see Oscar running behind the truck like a goof.

He hops out and plays rough with her for a few seconds, getting her all riled up and happy, then lowers the tailgate on his truck. It’s filled with lumber, buckets, a cooler, and tools.

Dean stalls, mid-unpacking, and looks over at me.

I wave first, and he tips his head in response.

Okay. I don’t know how to take that.

Heading back inside, I go straight to the fireplace to warm up. Shit. I totally forgot to add more wood this morning and my walk was too long! Pokingthe embers, I figure if I’m fast, there’s still a chance I can resurrect the little fire demon lurking in there. I just have to feed it quickly.

Grabbing the wood container Dean left yesterday, I stride out my front door and straight to the massive pile of perfectly stacked wood and fill my bin to the max.

“Whoa, whoa, I got it.” Dean runs to me, white puffs leaving his mouth.

“No, I can do it.”

“It’s heavy.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious, I had no idea.” I lean the bin against my stomach and start waddling back towards my cabin.

“Are you always this stubborn?”

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