Page 5 of Mail Order Mountain Man

“What are you going to do with all the extra space?”

He shrugs and makes his way to the back of the cabin. “I figure someday I’ll have a family here. If not, then the resale will be better with three bedrooms and two baths. Right now, it’s just a one bedroom, one bath situation. It’s fine for me, but it wouldn’t suit most people.” His voice gets louder, and I hear him rummaging through something. He’s probably looking for the ropes to tie me up. I’m such an idiot for following a stranger back to his cabin.

“That’s very… proactive of you,” I say, stiffly studying the lines of the walls. I know construction pretty well since I’ve grown up around it. My dad was the first to call someone out on lazy lines or poor craftsmanship. He says up here on the mountain, people hire folks that aren’t afraid to build details into their work. I see now why he hired Cole.

“You built everything yourself?” I turn toward him. He’s changed into a fresh flannel, and he’s brought me one as well.

“Figured you’d like to dry off. And yes, all of this was built by me… at an incredibly slow pace.” He lets out a small chuckle under his breath. “I just finished that bookshelf this year with wood from Whiskey Falls. They have great balsam up there.”

“And the books? You read all these?” I drag my finger across the shelves, noting the treasure trove of names. Hemingway, Stephen King, Cormac McCarthy, James Joyce, Jack London.

Impressive.

“That’s my collection. Do you read often?” As he talks, he pulls two steaks from the fridge.

I tuck behind the plastic drape and peal the wet dress off me, replacing it with Cole’s oversized flannel. It smells like pine, and it swallows me up.

“Oh.” I clear my throat, and step back into the main living space. “I think I’ve read all my life. My friends make fun of me because I get sucked into these romance novels for days on end. It’s a mess.” I meet him at the butcher block counter. Even the kitchen is done with detail in mind. “Is this local wood, too?” I swipe my hand across the surface.

He nods, staring toward me in his shirt before redirecting back to the dinner he’s preparing. “Right here on this property. I got that pine down by the river. Bears like congregating down there this time of night or I’d take you for a stroll.”

“This is a dream spot! The mountains, the water, privacy. Ugh. I’m jealous. I’ve been renting a cabin up on the east corner of the mountain. It’s off grid, so that part is nice, but there’s a family of raccoons that live in the attic, and I’m pretty sure they’re chewing their way down to the kitchen. I hear them scrambling up there all the time. That and my woodstove is all messed up. Last night I had smoke in the cabin and spent over an hour clearing it out.”

He laughs, seasoning the steak with pepper. “Yeah, I was off grid for a while too, but I upgraded to a few newer power sources last summer. It’s been much easier living. I’d be happy to come help you with the raccoons and the woodstove.”

“Thanks, but I think maybe the raccoons are keeping me company. I’ll let you know if they chew through the walls.”

He laughs and pulls two potatoes from the bottom cabinet of the pantry. “Are baked potatoes okay?”

“Perfect. What can I do to help?”

“Just keep me company. You’re welcome to look around and find all the faults you can about the place. It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone in here critiquing me. I could use the opinions.”

That’s a new one. A contractor thatwantsopinions on his work. I laugh to myself at the thought, then go back to wandering the cabin. On the wall hangs fish trophies and a few antlers. He’s a hunter and a fisherman. I imagine him up in some blind, holding a copy ofPride and Prejudicewhile he waits for his dinner to cross the field.

Why does that turn me on? I’m not a fan of killing animals for a trophy, but there’s something about a big, strong, capable man who can find his own dinner that turns my clit into a sopping mess.

In the newest section of the house, there’s a large piece of drop plastic separating the rooms. I peek behind to see more custom shelves and a few carved wood pieces that look to be misplaced sculptures.

“Please tell me you don’t do these too?”

He laughs, steaks sizzling on the indoor grill. “Sure do. That’s what I do for clients. It’s my side job. If you want a bear carved out of wood, I’m your man.”

“The detail is incredible. How do you do it?”

“Chainsaw, but there’s some finer detail work I do with knives that really brings out the features.”

I sigh. “You make me sound lame for just doing my one job.”

“Not true.” He says it with enough sarcasm that I’m a little taken aback. This man knows nothing about me, other than I like spilling coffee all over myself. Why is he acting like he does?

“Why do you say it like that?”

“Your profile online had some pretty interesting things tagged.”

“You can’t see my profile, so…”

“I can’t… except for your kinks. I guess those could be deal breakers for some. You got mine too, right?”

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