FLINT

by Kate Tilney

  Her brown eyes sparkle. “I’m willing to try anything if it means saving the lodge.”

  Wait. How does she know about the lodge? Shawn’s the only person who knows. Well, Shawn and . . .

  Lila cringes. “Sorry. It just sort of came out.”

  Shaking my head, I fight my annoyance. Lila always was a bit of trouble. I wish that didn’t make me want her even more.

  “Okay,” I say at last. “We can try opening the kitchen. I’m sure you have some sort of plan for getting the word out.”

  “I do!” Lila clasps her hands together and does a little dance, showing off her shapely ass and hips. I may need another shower. This time, a cold one.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d also like to make a few changes to the dining room.”

  “Like what?”

  “Maybe . . . declutter.”

  I stare at her. “You want to get rid of the deer heads and antlers?”

  She pulls a face. “I know this is a lodge, but it’s not very appetizing.”

  “I’ve been saying that for years,” Dorothy agrees.

  And now I have two pleading faces staring at me. Hell. I was in trouble before I even set foot in the kitchen.

  “Do whatever you want.”

  Lila hugs Dorothy and then, before I can brace myself, she runs around the island to throw her arms around me too. Unlike yesterday, I can’t stop myself from lifting my hands to her waist. I breathe in deeply. It’s a mistake. She smells like vanilla and pancake mix.

  Pushing back, I pick up my fork to shovel down my breakfast so I can get out of here. Fast.

  I just need to get through the next two weeks. Shawn will be here then. He’ll take Lila home. That moment can’t come too soon. The longer she’s here without her brother or parents as a buffer, the harder it’s going to be to keep my dick in my pants.

  And I really have to not fuck my best friend’s sister.

  Lila

  I spend the rest of the day giving the dining room a makeover. With Dorothy’s help, I have the room taxidermy free—plus the wood walls freshly polished—before dinner. I don’t see Flint again, but Dorothy assures me that’s normal. Having cut back on all but the essential staff—namely Jacobs and herself—Flint’s taken on most of the work. That means cleaning the guest rooms and cabins, making minor repairs, and leading guests on excursions not to mention crunching numbers, placing orders, and making reservations in his office.

  While the guests eat, I take note of the clientele. According to the information my brother gave me, most of the people who stay at the lodge are regulars who come for hunting and fishing. I don’t want to alienate them with any of the changes we make. This is their home away from home. But I definitely think we could tap into a bigger market by showing off all there is to see and do in the Bitterroot Mountains—without being a hunter or fisherman.

  All the while, my brain runs through ways to share it with the world. I shoot off an email to my brother who gives two thumbs up to my proposal. Along with the advice to act first and ask forgiveness later.

  I wake the next morning stiff from pushing around furniture and running a rag back and forth across the walls. My stomach rumbles. I’m ready for breakfast. According to the menu I designed with Dorothy, we’re having crunchy French toast.

  Stepping into the dining room, Dorothy flashes me a grin and motions me toward a table.

  “Good morning,” I say to her and a couple of the guests still lingering at the table.

  The other woman places a heaping plate in front of me before I can sit. “You know I’m going to gain ten pounds in a week if you keep this up.”

  “A woman should own her curves.” Dorothy winks. “Besides, I don’t think the boss minds the ones you have already.”

  My cheeks flush, and I eat my breakfast in silence—and fast. Speaking of the boss, I wonder where he’s gone. I ask Jacobs later and he directs me to a cabin.

  “Stick to the path,” he warns. “These woods are full of things.”

  My eyes widen. “Ghosts?”

  His sun-tanned, leathery face crumples with humor. “Bears and wolves. We have plenty of real dangers without the supernatural.”

  Masking my embarrassment, I follow the path. It’s not too far from the main lodge, but I stay alert. You know, because of the bears and wolves. I hear loud banging, like a hammer to wood, the closer I get to the cabin. The door is open, and I find Flint on a ladder, pounding away at a wall. There’s a tool belt slung low on his hips, and he’s tossed his flannel shirt aside.

  Butterflies take flight in my belly. “What are you doing?”

  He starts, but grips hold of the ladder. A scowl sets on his face. “How did you get here?”

  “I walked.” Does he really think I rented a car to walk a couple hundred yards?

  “By yourself?”

  “Of course.” I quickly see that was the wrong answer.

  His jaw tightens. “Do you have any idea what’s out there?”

  “Bears and wolves.” I move closer, drawn by the way his undershirt clings to his skin. My panties instantly soak. “Jacobs watched me the whole time.”

  That seems to help. He gives a short nod and turns back to his work.

  “You didn’t answer my question.” I stop at the foot of the ladder. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m making repairs.” He goes back to hammering. “I put a new roof on last week. Now I’m just taking care of a few little things inside.”

  “You’re doing it by yourself?”

  “There’s no money in the budget to hire a crew. Besides, my granddad taught me everything I need to know about running this place.” His tone takes on a hard edge. “Except how to get people to come here.”

  Glancing around the room, I can see the care and effort that has gone into restoring this cabin to its former glory. Though Flint would probably be embarrassed if I said it, there’s a lot of love in here too. I can see how he protects what he cares about.

  I wish I was one of those things he cares about.

  “This place means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

  He lowers the hammer and slowly turns toward me. “This place is my life.”

  His words clutch at my heart. “How can I help?”

  “Aren’t you doing enough with your social media and web plans?”

  “Those are in progress.” I pick up a hammer perched on a sawhorse. “But I can see your vision with this place, and I’d like to help you make it a reality.”

  He stares at me, and I suddenly feel naked. If only.

  “Besides,”—I wiggle the hammer—“the more you have done around here, the more I can sell to prospective customers.”

  A slow grin spreads across his lips, and I’m in very real danger of throwing myself at him and begging him to take me.

  “Go ahead and hang that painting wherever you like.” He gestures to a picture of a cow propped against a wall.

  Okay, that’s not exactly what I had in mind. I thought maybe I could help with drywall or something. But he seems to have that all pretty well covered. I hold the picture up in different places around the room, trying to decide where it would look best. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I’m almost positive Flint sneaks glances in my direction.

  When I find the perfect spot, just over a bed, I jump up onto the mattress, the springs squeaking under me. Pursing my lips, I hold the nail in place with one hand and swing with the other. And completely miss the nail, bashing my thumb instead.

  I cry out. I’ve barely dropped the hammer when I’m swept off the bed and pulled into Flint’s arms.

  “What’s wrong?” He brushes the hair away from my face and swipes a tear from my cheeks. “Are you hurt?”

  I nod and hold my thumb to him. Releasing his grip on me, he grasps my hand in both of his, turning it every which way to examine it. He’s so close, his warm breath tickles my cheeks. He’s so close, that if I moved just a few inches he could kiss me. I wish he would.

  “It’
s not broken.” He runs his own thumb gently over it, and I wince at the mix of pleasure and pain at his caress. “I don’t even think you’ll lose the nail. But you should maybe leave the rest of this to me.”

  My heart sinks in disappointment. I nearly protest. But then he raises my hand to his lips and kisses my thumb. I can’t breathe let alone speak.

  “There’s a lot out here that could hurt you.” He traces a circle on the back of my hand. “This isn’t Seattle. It’s not a fancy resort or a four-star hotel.”

  That reignites a spark inside of me. “Thank God. If I never go to another black-tie gala at a swanky hotel, it’ll be too soon.”

  Flint arches an eyebrow. “That guy must’ve done a number on you.”

  He has no idea. I shake my head. “It’s not about him. This is about me. I’m not as weak and helpless as you think I am.” Hammers aside. “What do I have to do to prove I can survive here?”

  Releasing my hand, he steps away. I suddenly feel very much alone.

  “You want to prove you can make it in the Montana wilderness?”

  “Absolutely.” I hope my stance is every bit as set as his.

  “I’ll show you tomorrow. Until then, you might want to get some ice for that before you try typing on your computer.”

  Chapter Three

  Flint

  The next morning, I pound on Lila’s door before sunrise. I can’t help but grin, imagining her lying in her bed, sheets tangled around her legs. Her sleep shirt scrunched up around her waist. All the while cursing me for getting her up at this Godforsaken hour. My dick twitches at the thought of that smooth skin.

  “Come on.” I thump the door again. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty. We’ve got ourselves a Montana adventure.”

  The door flies open. On the other side, Lila’s long brown hair falls loose from a bun. Her blue eyes are droopy, but there’s no mistaking the annoyance in them.

  “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  “Sure do.” I step inside without being invited. “Here in Montana, we call it morning.”

  She grumbles something indecipherable, but I think it has to do with where she’d like me to shove the morning.

  Masking a yawn, she undoes her hair. It falls in waves over the curve of her breasts. It’s then I notice the hard nipples poking through her sleep shirt. What I’d give to throw her on the bed and take her now. Those are dangerous thoughts.

  “What’s the plan for today?”

  I blink, bringing my attention back to the agenda. “Put on something comfortable and hiking boots. You do have hiking boots, don’t you?”

  “Of course I have hiking boots.” She rolls her eyes at me. “What kind of person goes to the mountains without hiking boots?”

  She’d be surprised how many city folk show up without the basics. I open my mouth to ask if she has compression socks, but she bends over and I catch the curve of her full ass. My mouth waters, imagining one of my hands running over the smooth skin, the other cupping her crotch. Tasting her. Stroking her. Making her want me every bit as much as I want her.

  Shawn would kill me if I so much as lay a finger on his sister like that. But as she stands, arching her back as she does, I have to wonder if probably death might not be worth it for just one taste of her body.

  I turn around and focus on a painting of a bear on the wall. I need to get ahold of myself.

  She taps on my shoulder a moment later, and I turn to find her dressed in skin-tight leggings, a T-shirt, and a flannel shirt tied around her waist.

  “Will this work?”

  In more ways than she thinks.

  “We should head out.” The words come out gruffly. “I have our packs ready downstairs.”

  “You aren’t even going to give me a hint of what we’re doing today?”

  “We’re going to have a mountain experience. What more do you need to know?”

  She just shakes her head, her eyes more alert now.

  “Show me the way, I guess.”

  Oh I’d like nothing more than to show her the way. But I don’t have a death wish. At least not yet.

  Lila

  We hike through the trees for what must be an hour. Though I’m slow to start out, once I’ve had the thermos of coffee Flint brought along, and some water, there’s more pep in my step. When we get to the stream, my breath catches.

  “Flint.” I grip onto his hand. “It’s beautiful.”

  He squeezes my hand then releases it. “Come on. Time to see just how much of a mountain woman you are.”

  My interest piqued, I follow his lead and slide the backpack off of my shoulders. Opening it, I stare at the contents in surprise. “Waders?”

  He nods. “And a collapsible fishing rod.”

  “Fishing rod?”

  There’s a hint of mischief in his eyes. “What could be more wilderness adventure than fly fishing?”

  I can think of more than a few things. I’ve never gone fly fishing before. Oh, my dad and brother have taken us out on the water while they fished. Mostly my mom and I would trade gossip and sip mimosas while the guys did their thing. But I’m a quick study. And I have everything to prove to Flint.

  He’ll see that I can fit here in this mountain world of his in no time.

  Then the man in question winks at me, and I lose all sense and reason. It’s not fair that he’s so good looking. I’ll never be able to pay attention long enough to figure out what’s what. He rambles on about leader lines and rings, but it’s all a blur in my head.

  Enough is enough. I’ve waited five years for a chance to be with this man. I’m not waiting another second.

  “Maybe you should just show me.”

  “Show you?”

  I hold up the rod. “Put my hands where they’re supposed to be. My feet how they’re supposed to set. How it’s supposed to feel.”

  With any luck, once he’s standing behind me, his hands on mine, Flint won’t be able to deny the spark that seems to ignite every time we’re together.

  Hesitating only a moment, Flint grabs my hips and angles them into position.

  “Stand like this.” His low voice rumbles in my chest. Then his hands slide up and cover mine. “You’ll need to give enough line and let it drift.”

  My eyes flutter shut, and I drown out the instructions, savoring the way his firm chest feels pressed against my back. And, if I’m not mistaken, I feel something else pressing against my butt. The line catches, and I’m jerked forward. My eyes fly open, and Flint grabs hold of me. But it’s too late. I fly forward into the water, taking him with me.

  Shaking my head, I feel around for the fishing pole. My hand connects with the rod, and I’m plucked out of the water by two strong hands.

  Flint cups my cheek tenderly when we’re back on dry ground. “Are you okay?”

  “Just a little wet.” He has no idea just how wet I am. How wet I was before I lost my footing.

  His chest is rising up and down, concern in his eyes. “Are you hurt?”

  I shake my head, my own breathing labored. I can’t take it. Not a second longer. I grab his face and pull it towards mine. My lips touch his, and everything explodes. Something seems to fire in him too. He grabs my hips, pulling me closer against him, his hardness pressed against my heat. He angles his face, taking our kiss deeper and deeper until I fall overboard.

  It’s even better than our first kiss. Five years ago. On the balcony of my parents’ house overlooking Lake Washington. The kiss that sent him running and left me waiting.

  This time, I won’t let him run. This time, I won’t wait.

  Chapter Four

  Flint

  Regaining my senses, I pull back. Lila’s breasts are pressed against my chest. Neither of us seem able to draw a breath.

  This is a mistake. Even as I tell myself that, I don’t believe it. She feels so good, so right in my arms. Even though I know what’s at stake, I’m tired of fighting the inevitable. I’ve spent the past few years trying to put as much
distance between us. We can’t fight it anymore.

  I rest my forehead against hers. “We shouldn’t do this.”

  “Why not?”

  “Your brother will kill me if he ever finds out.”

  “Then we’d better make the next hour worth dying for.”

  One of her hands inches up my chest and the other lowers to cup me through my wet jeans. My dick springs to life, and it’s clear it will be making the decisions from now on.

  I nuzzle the curve of her neck. “Baby, you’re fooling yourself if you think we’ll only be at this an hour.”

  My hand cups her ass. I press my cock against her, the friction of fabric teasing us both.

  Her hand grips my shirt. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  I suck on her neck, pulling a moan from her. “Go on.”

  “I’ve never done this before.”

  I freeze. She doesn’t mean what I think she means.

  I pull back to study her face. “You’ve never done what before?”

  “I’ve never been with a man before.”

  How is it possible that someone so sexy and sensual could be untouched? “Why not?”

  “I’ve never wanted to.” She chews on her bottom lip. “Not with anyone but you.”

  Knowing I’ll be the first man to have her—the only—fills me with primal desire. But it also fills me with a need to make this perfect for her.

  “Your first time should be in a bed.” I plant kisses over her face, my hands running up and down her arms. “With candles and flowers.”

  “I don’t need candles, flowers, or a bed. I just need you.”

  Then she squeezes me. I hiss in a breath. For being a newbie, she’s off to a good start. I grab her wrist, removing it from my dick. If she keeps that up, this will be over before it begins.

  “You may not need the extras,” I say between labored breaths. “But we’re going to take this nice and slow.”

  Reaching her waist, I tug the flannel shirt off and toss it aside. I reach for the bottom of her shirt and pull it up over her head, followed by her bra. She’s bare from the waist up. Her hands fly up to cover herself.