Page 4 of Mountain Wood

Ugh, it doesn’t matter because he is so off limits. “Get your shit together, girl.” Patting my cheeks, I pace in the open concept cabin and try to make my pulse slow down.

Holy crap, the way his jeans hung on his hips. And the dirt on his boots.

The sweat glistening on his abs.

“Who the fuck am I?” I whisper in terror. Rugged mountain men arenotmy type. Nope, nope, nope. Not even a little.

Dean walks past the large window with his dog by his side.

Okay, maybe a little.

Maybe a lot, according to my aching pussy, who doesn’t have any sense at all.

I blame the flannel. It’s a nice flannel. And the jeans. They hug his perfect ass… perfectly.

OMG.

“Chill out, Grace. He’s just a guy.”

An irresistible hot guy with tattoos.

Inhale… two, three, four. Exhale… two, three, four.I work on the breathing exercises my yoga instructor taught me and none of it helps. I’m all flustered now.

“You’re not here to get laid. You’re here to find yourself.”

Self-discovery wasn’t going to happen in New York or anywhere else my family has a home, so I decided to hide in the mountains. I could only rent a cabin for two weeks online, but I’m hoping to extend my stay through winter. I’ll find the reservations lodge later and speak to a manager. Hopefully this getaway gives me time to learn who the real Grace Finch is because the woman I’ve been my whole life is who my shitty mother has forged from insults and trust funds and I’m over it.

This drastic move is my last-ditch effort to break out of my toxic life and start a new one, where I’m in charge and only what I want matters. Bear Creek is as good a place as any for that new life to start. Besides, look how pretty the trees are here. It’s like a pumpkin spice postcard and I’m in love already. Whether I find my true self or not, at least I’ll have great posts for social media content.

The cabin is super cute, too. Rustic, comfy, but definitely outdated. The kitchen is tiny, but it’s got the essentials, which are more than I know how to use. That reminds me, I have to go to the grocery store now that I’ve checked in.

Was that even a check in?

I don’t know the rules here. Any hotel or resort I’ve ever stayed at has full amenities and a conciergewho will bring me anything I ask for. I didn’t even research what they offer here because I was so enamored by the photos online of the landscape and fell in love with the views.

I don’t need a spa or restaurant. Or room service.

Or heated a pool or saunas.

Right?

Looking around, I should be grateful this cabin at least has indoor plumbing. I really swung in the opposite direction of my lifestyle, picking this place out.

Whatever.

If I’m being honest, I’d live in a cardboard box before I go back to my penthouse in Manhattan and submit to my mother ever again. So yeah, this cabin is perfect because it’s all mine for now and no one can find me.

The bedroom is adorable. Not my style, but it’s clean and cute. Peeking into the bathroom, I’m shocked to find a freestanding soaking tub and mosaic tile floor. Nowthisis my style. It’s like all the budget went to the bath, leaving pennies for the rest of the place. Maybe renovations are happening in stages? If so, there’s still a lot of work to be done.

Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror startles me. Oh. No. My outfit is completely ruined. Thinking fast, I grab my phone and head out to the wrap-around porch, hoping I can find that dog again. “Oscar!” I call out, my heart skipping beats because I don’t want Dean to know I need his dog back. “Oscar, come here, girl.” I whistle, hoping that will call her to me.

It doesn’t.

Okay, Plan B. I head out back and follow the sign that says, “Fishing Stream Green Trail.” Leaves crunch under my boots as I wind around the path, feeling a little excited about this adventure. My vacations have always been by the ocean, or overseas in a large city with plenty of shopping. I don’t do the woods. Even when my family goes to Aspen for skiing, I stick to the slopes and the cabin. There’s no venturing out in the great unknown because none of my friends like that sort of thing and my mother wouldn’t be caught dead walking in the dirt. The only time I’ve really enjoyed a hike is at the gym with my trainer when they put a wildlife scene on the big screen for me to pretend with.

So boring.

The crisp air bites my lungs in a nice way. The dead leaves smell fantastic.

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