Page 2 of My Santa Mountain Man
Just because he and Cory Hammond had gotten into it at the Bear Den a decade ago didn’t mean Corbin was the same man he used to be. Cory had been a heap of trouble back then, and Corbin might have had a good reason to break his nose… and his arm.
Butnoneof that mattered. The reality was, this place was selling for sixty thousand dollars.
Real estate prices weren’t high on Red Oak Mountain, but even around here, that price was atotalsteal.
And also the only place I could afford. Until it came on the market, I was afraid it was going to take me ten more years to save enough to qualify for a decent loan.
Or I thought I’d end up buying one of the cabins by the logging camp. This place was a palace compared to them. Even if it was a broke-down palace with mice in residence.
Someonewould snatch this place up.
Someone with a vision.
Someone who could see the old, vintage farmhouse for what it could be.
Or… someone who was broke as fuck, like me, and desperate to have a place to call home. My nesting instincts had been in overdrive recently.
“I’ll take it,” I said as I glanced into one of the old bedrooms with a big antique armoire in it. The dust was even thicker in there.
My agent let out a deep breath, and I realized she’d been counting on this commission for Christmas. She had three kids at home and her husband had recently passed away, so I knew times had been tough for her.
It putmycircumstances into perspective.
“Full asking price?”
I swallowed hard. With another buyer in the mix, I wouldn’t be able to talk the seller down by five-thousand dollars like I’d been hoping to do. I did some quick mental math. If I spent nothing for the next two years and put the expenses for moving on my credit card I’d manage to live about as comfortably as that family of mice.
“Yeah,” I squeaked out. “Full asking price.”
I couldn’t risk letting this one slip out of my fingers.
EvenifCorbin Wallace was attached to the deal.
Chapter 2
Corbin
The icy gravel on the road splattered everywhere as I slammed on my brakes. My truck squealed and slipped on the ice as I came to a quick stop.
Who the fuck is that?
I watched as a plump little thing took a box out of the trunk of her car and carried it inside my house.
She couldn’t have been more than five foot three, her overalls and work boots dwarfing her.
I sat there with my truck idling and waited for her to come back out, while my dog, Hopkins, whined in the passenger seat. He was wondering why we’d come to such a sudden stop.
“Just give me a sec, boy,” I told him as I kept my eyes trained on the front door.
When she came back out, her winter coat was gone.
Her thick sweater, sturdy snow boots, and loose overalls proved that at leastthisnew neighbor was a sensible one, unlike the last couple that had moved in.
She had the fashion sense of a good, old, country girl, born and raised, and it tickled my dick to watch her work.
But I didn’t recognize her as a local of Red Oak Mountain.
With a quick glance over at my truck, she gave me a fast smile and a small wave, then got back to work.
