Page 22 of Snowed In with her Mountain Men
“Wow,” I said, and I meant it.
He paused to look at them, scratching his head. His expression was adorable.
“I mean, we know they’re bad. Some of them are even worse than bad. But this was his place. He was always proud of these crazy things.”
I shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t think they’re crazy at all.”
“Yeah, well you’re being generous,” he chuckled. “Anyway, Sarge was our mentor, our friend, our father in just about every way that ever really mattered. When we inheritedthe place, we saw these paintings as an extension of him. We didn’t see any reason to take them down.”
I felt a lump forming in my throat. I knew what it was like to lose someone, and hang on to the things they left behind. Absently, I found myself fingering the worn silver bracelet on my wrist.
“Are yousureI should stay in here?” I asked carefully. “I mean, Jaxon didn’t think it was such a good idea.”
“Jaxon’s a little stuck in the past,” Oakley sniffed. “If it were up to him, we’d still have Sarge’s hideous 1970’s furniture.” He scoffed. “Besides, Jaxon’s not in charge. None of us need his permission to do anything.”
“Still,” I countered, “I don’t want to piss him off. The couch was perfectly—”
“You’re a guest in our home,” he interrupted me, sternly. “This is your room. That’s your bed,” he pointed. “You’ve got fresh sheets and linens, even pillowcases. Ryder and I set them up this morning.”
Now it was my turn to blush, as I felt my heart swell. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone did anything for me, much less something this nice.
“You can set up your laptop right there on that desk,” he continued, “and write to your heart’s content.” He smiled amiably. “That window provides good natural light, and a great view. Maybe you’ll be inspired.”
The desk was perfect, if a little large. There was even a charging cord, already set up.
“The two of you did all this for me?”
He stepped closer, and his earthy scent washed over me. I could smell sandalwood. Spice. The leather of his belt. My mind drifted back to our kiss in the motel room, and what little we’d done there. And what more wecould’vedone… if only I’d been bolder.
“Play your cards right,” Oakley grinned, “and there’s a bright yellow toothbrush in the hall bathroom for you.”
I laughed. “Yellow, huh?”
“Can’t get it confused with ours, that way.”
“I’ll bet.”
“You’re lucky we didn’t go with pink. You didn’t seem a pink kind of girl, though.”
“Oh no?” I challenged. “Why not?”
“A pink girl would never give up the beaches of Daytona to hole up in some tiny cabin high in the Rockies. All by herself, no less. And with hardly any food. Even less firewood. Not to mention—”
“Alright, alright, I get it,” I poked him in the chest. “I’m a dumbass yellow girl.”
My poke, although playful, broke yet another barrier between us. His eyes drifted from my offending finger to the rest of me. I could sense him not just looking at me now, but drinking me in.
“I’ll leave you to get settled in,” he said, finally breaking eye contact. “Unless of course, you want to make out some more.”
He was half joking, half serious. The gleam in his eye told me so.
“Maybe later,” I flirted back. “After I’ve unpacked and cleaned up.”
“Fair enough.”
He turned to leave, the heaviness of his boot falls mixing with the musical jangle of steel and leather.
“You know where the fridge is, in case you get hungry,” he added. “And don’t be shy, either. Treat this place like it’s yours, because it is.”
