“No. They did advise me to take the main path, but I read about the secondary path online, and I figured I could handle it. My mistake, obviously.”
“You could’ve died back there,” he says sternly.
I feel like I’m being reprimanded. “Yeah, I kinda figured that one out, maybe a bit late.”
“We’re almost there,” he says, smiling brightly again.
I’m fascinated by how smoothly he navigates through a vast emotional spectrum. By the time we reach his cabin, I know little yet strangely enough about him. Daley Fontaine, emancipated early and a mountain man since he was sixteen. Hunts and grows his own food. Likes cats and dogs in equal measure. And that’s about it.
“It’s so nice,” I hear myself say as he helps me up on the tall front porch.
The cabin itself is much bigger than I had imagined it. Then again, given the sheer size of Daley, it shouldn’t come as such a shock.
Built on two levels, it sports a front and back porch, along with a small balcony upstairs which is currently loaded with old, empty ceramic pots. The roof is solid wood, the outer walls logged from top to bottom—with a rocky base of about three feet above the ground. It was built on relatively steep but solid land, held tightly by the forest around it.
There’s a clearing in front of the cabin, wide enough to let good sun come down and feed the garden of vegetables I see he has fenced off to the right. Across the clearing, I see the open workspace with its wooden roof and lateral covers. My guess is Daley likes working outdoors. There’s a piece he’s working on. It looks like some kind of decorative table. Wood chips and sawdust are sprinkled all over.
Jax sits next to me, and I could swear that he’s smiling. I’d rather be on his good side, though, given how big his fangs are. I can’t even imagine anyone coming all the way up here to do something. It’s too far from any traveled roads, I soon realize, noticing the path at the bottom, where Daley’s truck is parked.
He comes back from inside the house with a pack of ice and a tin box, while I put my foot on the bench, stretching my leg in the process. Groaning softly, I relish the sensation, wishing I’d done this sooner.
“How is it?” Daley asks.
“Hurting more and more,” I reply. “This puts a dent in my hiking plans. I was going to head over into the park today.”
“Give it some time,” he says and hands me the ice pack.
I take the boot and the sock off, surprised by the swell on my ankle. It’s bruising fast, but somehow I imagine it could’ve been much worse. I wiggle my foot just enough to understand how much mobility I have left, but there’s no pain from such motions, which is a good sign.
“It’s a sprain,” I tell him as I put the ice on. Chills rush up my leg, and I shiver slightly.
“Hold on,” Daley says and fetches a woolen blanket from inside. He wraps it around my shoulders and sits next to my foot, eyeing it carefully. “Try to ice the area around the bruise, as well. It’ll help.”
“Seriously, I can’t thank you enough.”
“Don’t worry about it. I appreciate you trusting me, though. I know you city girls are always suspicious and ready to fight back.” He chuckles.
I’m supposed to find it funny, and I can see why, but I’ve had to knock the teeth out of a mugger or two in my life, so yeah, I’m strung out and then some with complete strangers.
“Meh, I figure you would’ve just brought me here at gunpoint if you wanted to do something untoward.”
“That’s true. But you have my word, I would never.”
I peer into his eyes again, and I believe him. There’s something in the way he speaks, this genuine sense of self that I’ve never observed in other men. It must stem from his living all the way up here, away from the rest of the world.
“Don’t you miss the town?” I ask. “You said you used to have a home in Dickinson.”
“Yeah, I sold it and moved here,” he says, and I see a shade of pain briefly fluttering across his gaze.
“Lucky you. Living off the land, then.”
“The land and the shopping street in Dickinson,” he replies, then unscrews the lid from the tin, and a powerful smell hits me. “Yeah, it’s quite something, sorry.”
“Ugh, what the heck is that?” I smell mint and something else that I can’t put my finger on.
He takes a whiff, clearly accustomed to that mind-numbing fragrance, and shows me the content—a milky, half-transparent pomade with various bits of herbs and some kind of tree bark.
“It’s a Fontaine family recipe. Better than ibuprofen and a family secret for over three generations.”
“It reeks.”
“Well, it does the job. I’m gonna have to slather this all over your ankle, I’m afraid.” He glances down and takes his time as I remove the ice pack. “Hm. It’s not a good idea for you to use this leg until tomorrow, I reckon.”
“Whoa. What am I going to do, then?”
“You’re welcome to stay here until you recover,” he says. “Lucky for you, I went into town yesterday, and there’s enough food in the fridge for the both of us.”
A cat jumps on my lap, and I almost scream, not expecting the sudden fluffball.
“Yeah, meet Spark. And Felix just curled up behind you,” Daley adds, holding back a chuckle.
I’m already melting, and not because I’m surrounded by fluffy animals but because I’m in the company of a dashing man who wants me to stick around.
If I say no, I’ll be rude. Besides, where the hell am I going to go with a creaky ankle? I’ll become dinner for Amy or revenge brunch for Lou, I’m sure. Unless Ol’ Skittle gets to me first.
“Okay, I’ll stay, but as soon as I can walk, I’m getting out of your hair,” I tell him. “You’ve been more than kind, already.”
“It’s not often that I have guests, and the people I’ve had to deal with lately are utterly bothersome. I’ll admit that you, Michelle, are a breath of fresh air.”
He means it. I can see it in his darkening eyes.
“I could say the same thing about you,” is what I’m able to utter.
The sun begins its descent into the west. Soon enough, it will be swallowed by the mountain, and my guess is that I’ll be having dinner with this man, hopefully under the stars.
Daley starts smearing some of the pomade on my ankle, and I suck in a breath. His hands are big, with calloused fingers, but they feel warm as he firmly massages the Fontaine remedy into my skin. He takes his time, working the muscles around the affected area gently.
For a guy his size, Daley is remarkably tender.
It sparks a variety of ideas in the back of my head, and I wonder if maybe there’s even the slightest chance that he might feel the same way.
Chapter 7
Daley
I’m not sure what to make of this encounter, but I’m wondering if there really is such a thing as fate, because only fate can explain Michelle sitting on my porch and somewhat in my debt.
Should I even bring up my land ownership issues? No, she’ll think I’m crazy or worse. I barely got her to come all the way up here for some ice and rest, let alone marriage. I’ll keep that to myself.
She’s on the phone with someone. My guess is family, as she mixes Spanish and English in rapid conversation.
I was honest earlier; Michelle most definitely is a breath of fresh air. I only wish this would lead somewhere good because I am at my wit’s end. None of the local lawyers want to get involved because they’re also on Cline’s payroll, and out-of-town legal advice is ridiculously expensive. Besides, what I need right now is not a representative in court. The Bachelor Amendment cannot be contested. I need a damn wife.
“Mama, for the millionth time, I’m fine. It’s just a sprain!” Michelle snaps.
I smile to myself, stirring vegetables into a simmering stew. It looks amazing. I think I’m just gonna take the skillet out and set it on a wood block in the middle of the table. I’m told the rustic style of dining is quite the
trend for city folks, so I might as well give this lady the full experience.
Once she sees me, she tells her mother they’ll speak later and hangs up, a huge grin splitting her beautiful face. Those big brown eyes make me feel naked, somehow. Inquisitive and discerning. Curious. Fearless. That’s Michelle in a nutshell, and she doesn’t even have to tell me herself. It’s written in her smooth features. Her lips beg for kissing, but I wouldn’t dare. Maybe. Not yet.
“That looks amazing,” she says as I put the skillet on display.
I’ve already brought the bread and the water out, so we’re pretty much ready to eat.
“You said that’s venison?”
I glance at the stew. “Have you ever had it?”
“No. Chicken, pork, and beef has been my range for as long as I can remember. Well, that and the occasional fish.”
“There’s good trout down the river, a mile north of here, just outside the park,” I say, trying to focus on the topic and not on how I’d rather run my fingers through that long, midnight-black hair of hers. It looks like liquid silk, pouring down one shoulder of her yellow hiking jacket. She doesn’t strike me as one of those laughable amateurs, but she clearly hasn’t been on difficult trails before. My mountain can kill you if you don’t get to know it first.
I realize I need to finish my thought. “If you want, I can reach out to one of the local boys and see if I can buy us a decent-size piece for dinner?”
“Oh, don’t bother! Besides, I’m curious about this,” she says, nodding at the skillet. “Like I said, it looks amazing. It smells good, too. Cumin?”
“And just a pinch of tarragon. It works, I guess. I’ve been making this for years,” I reply.
We eat and talk, and the more I listen, the more invested I become. It’s strange, as if I’m watching myself from the outside as I become entangled in her web. She’ll take my breath away if I’m not careful.
I haven’t felt like this in… I can’t even remember when someone had this effect on me. I’m not the old grump kind of guy, but solitude can make me harsher toward people, so I’m pleasantly surprised to see myself interacting with an actual stranger without itching for my rifle.
“So, how long have you been living here, Daley?” she asks, definitely enjoying my stew.
“Since I was sixteen. A little over twenty years.”
It feels like much longer, sometimes. Solitude is my way of life, but it does weigh me down, stretching time and turning days into weeks, then months and years. Maybe I’ve been at this for too long. Maybe I’m tired, and it’s time for me to accept that I cannot do this alone. Not anymore.
“Wow, that’s…” She pauses, probably meaning to say that it’s a long time. “Don’t you get lonely up here?”
Jax sits politely at the far end of the table, eyeing us as we eat, while Felix and Spark keep twisting themselves into pretzels around my ankles, occasionally trying Michelle’s other leg, too, just in case she might have some scraps to spare.
“With these three on my case? Not really,” I chuckle. “As far as human company goes… I don’t know. I’m the solitary type, but I do stay friendly with friends and neighbors. There are people living all around this mountain, and we tend to help each other out, no matter what, so I do have a sense of community even up here.”
“That’s just so nice. In a way, I envy you for being able to live like this, at one with nature. What got you into this mountain life, anyway?”
“My parents had this cabin as a summer home. Then they died, and I wanted to get away from everybody,” I tell her, matter-of-factly. It’s been eons, but the pain is still there, dull and taking up too much space in my heart.
Michelle immediately picks up on it. Her hand finds mine across the table, and she gives me a gentle squeeze. “Oh, gosh… I’m so sorry,” she says.
All I can think about is how soft her fingers feel compared to my lumberjack paws. Tender and warm. I’ll bet she’s got a fiery side, too. I can easily imagine embers radiating heat from her eyes when she’s angry.
“It’s okay.”
“I can’t even imagine what that must’ve been like. I have a big family, and they’re constantly on my back with one thing or another. My brothers look to me as some kind of savior when our parents get too far on the micromanagement side of things… What was it like, living without them?”
“Honestly, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. They both taught me plenty till they… you know. But I missed out on a lot of things. I have had to learn some lessons on my own, the hard way. I was lucky to have a handful of friends in and around Dickinson who helped me emancipate and stay out of the foster system.”
“You don’t have any relatives?”
“It’s just me, myself, and I, Michelle.”
I decide it’s time to change the subject. She isn’t ready to hear the proposal that’s currently brewing in my head. If I open my mouth now, she’ll start running and tumbling down the mountain, desperate to get as far away from me as possible.
“How’s the ankle?” I ask instead. “The pomade should start doing something in the next ten to twelve hours. I’ll apply some more before you hit the sack.”
“Hit the sack where?” she asks, suddenly confused.
I’m pretty sure the stew just got stuck in her throat as she begins to evaluate the few options she has at this point, and I need to make sure she stays here and listens to what I have to say—ideally tomorrow. It’s not every day that a woman practically falls into my lap exactly when I need her.
“Here. I have an extra room,” I tell her, smiling gently. “No one disturbs us here. It’ll be safe and quiet.”
She looks around. The view from the front porch is pretty, I’ll admit. Not a morning goes by that I’m not grateful for being able to call this place home.
“What about the bears?”
“They don’t come down here. It’s too close to the forest road, and Jax is very good at protecting his territory.”
“What if the bears gang up on him?”
I know she’s trying to make light of what is clearly an uncomfortable situation for her, but I need to turn this moment into a win for us both.
“Ol’ Skittle ain’t a teamwork kind of guy, don’t worry.” I offer her more bread from the basket, and she takes a piece, slowly nibbling on it with the rest of her stew. “This is a clean and good home,” I add. “The doors and windows are modernized and secured. The house is insulated to withstand an Arctic winter if need be, and I keep a rifle by the bed, too, just in case.”
She nods. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m awkward, Daley. I don’t usually do this.”
“Me neither. Yet here we are. I cannot, in good conscience, let you limp out of here with a bum leg, Michelle. And there is room in my world for one person, especially one as sweet and as gracious as you.”
She can’t help but smile, and I get the sense that I’m making some kind of progress. A proposal still sounds hilariously insane, but here’s to hoping it’ll sound better tomorrow.
“Okay, I’ll stay the night. Truth be told, I’m afraid to go out like this, too,” she says.
“I promise, you will be comfortable here. Hell, you might not even wanna leave anymore.” It was worth a shot, if only as an innocent joke.
Michelle avoids my gaze, but I know she isn’t immune to my presence, and I’m certainly not immune to hers. Something sizzles beneath the surface, and the more I think about it, the more enticed I become.
“Bears don’t know how to open doors, though, do they?” she replies, holding back a smirk.
“None can pick these new locks I put in. Only once did Amy make her way down here, but she never came into the clearing,” I say, patting Jax on the back of his neck. “My good boy here kept her away. He’s big for a dog, just the right size for a wolf, but still quite small when compared to a grizzly, but Jax is strong and fast enough to tear some bear flesh if he has to.”
“Wow, that sounds so… brutal.”
> “Life in the wilderness, I suppose. It comes in shades of gray.”
She thinks about it for a moment and purses those full lips. I’ve noticed that she does that just before she’s about to crack a joke, and there’s a dimple at the corner of her mouth that only appears when she laughs or smiles, making my chest tighten every damn time.
“What if I do decide I don’t want to leave this place?” she asks.
“There are options on the table,” I say, trying to entertain the joke while also wondering how many hours it will take me to convince her to play along and help me just until I get rid of Cline and his stupid lawyer. “I’m single.”
There it is. That laughter. That vibrant sound of pure joy and unadulterated pleasure. At least she’s enjoying my company, so I have that working for me. I take the plates and skillet away, eventually, and come back with a bowl of fruits for her to choose from while Michelle pours us more water.
“So, what is it you do for a living?” I decide to ask. “You know so much about me, yet I have almost no idea about you.”
“Gosh, you’re right,” she says, picking up a short knife and getting to work on an apple.
“I’m not gonna let a complete stranger into my home.”
“Oh, go figure.” She giggles. “I’m a lawyer from Minneapolis, and that pretty much sums it up, I think.”
My ears perk up. The universe cannot possibly be this generous to me.
No. This isn’t happening. I’m dreaming. I must be dreaming.
“You’re a lawyer,” I hear myself say.
“Defense attorney, to be specific. State appointed, mostly, but I am being groomed by a big firm, so I might go more high profile soon enough,” she tells me with a glimmer of pride in her eyes.
I will definitely need her input. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, first thing, I’m cooking the greatest breakfast anybody has ever seen. I need a shave, too. There aren’t any wildflowers left, but I bet I can find her a pretty fern to put into a pot and offer it as a gift, instead of flowers.
The Fake Bride Loophole - A Mountain Man Romance Page 5
