“The master bedroom is on the main floor, end of the hall, so leave that for your father,” I say, thinking of the room next to mine.
A few minutes pass and I wash up the dishes and am covering the rest of the cinnamon rolls when Tanner walks into the kitchen.
“Sorry about that,” he says, running his hands over his eyes. “It’s been a long three days in the car. Faith drove lots of it and everyone is spent.”
“Hey, no need to explain yourself to me,” I say. “I’m just here to clean and cook. Speaking of, can I get you something to drink?”
“In that case, I’d love a coffee?”
“Anything else?” I ask, moving toward the pot.
He chuckles. “Honestly, I’d love a few hours without the kids.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Oh, I can totally babysit.”
He shakes his head. “No, that’s not what I mean. The kids can handle themselves. They’re busy setting up their rooms, unloading the moving van with their gear, and settling into the Wi-Fi.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. “So, what did you have in mind?”
“Do you have a thermos we can put the coffee in?” he asks.
I nod slowly. “Why?”
“I need to stretch my legs after being cramped in a van so long. I could use a shower, but after... maybe it’s too much to ask, and I know you’re busy, but would you mind showing me the property?”
A smile spreads across my face. I’ve been so lonely the last few months, and the isolation only reminds me of when Bear and I were holed up in the woods at that tiny cabin, hiding from the Badlands. I was depressed and spent every day crying. Lately, I’ve felt a gnawing sensation that I might be spiraling back to the same place.
Maybe Tanner is the perfect distraction.
“I’d love to show you around,” I tell him. “In fact, we could impress Levi by sledding down that hill he mentioned.”
Tanner grins. “Really?”
“What, you don’t think I look like an outdoorswoman?”
Tanner shakes his head. “No,” he says slowly. “I was thinking it’s a miracle I ended up on this mountain. It’s just what I need.”
I bite my lip, hiding my smile. He has no idea what kind of miracles happen on this mountain.
While Tanner goes off to shower, I begin making the coffee, singing Jingle Bells to myself. I feel like an afternoon walk in the snow is the perfect way to get into the Christmas spirit. I pour water in the carafe, add coffee grounds in the filter. Then I move to the pantry to grab the thermos. I’m sure I stashed it somewhere in there.
After locating it, I grab a bag of red and green M&Ms -- maybe later I could whip up a batch of cookies with them. I turn around and drop the bag of candy. Tanner is standing there, wrapped in a towel. Nothing else.
Chocolate coated candies skitter across the old wood floor and my jaw drops.
“Sorry to startle you,” Tanner says, with a smile.
But it’s not his face that has me all spun up. It’s his body. Let’s just say it’s not a body that’s okay to come across unexpectedly. Because it’s a candy-dropping body. It is a ladder of muscles and so many taut abs that I feel weak in the knees when I look at him.
“Right,” I gasp. “No, I’m fine,” I say, dropping to the floor, scooping up the candy with my hands — anything to avoid looking at all that naked maleness in front of me.
“Hot water went out mid-way through the shower. I came out looking for a breaker box.”
“Right. It’s um.” I stand, stepping over chocolate. “It’s in the basement.” I step toward the basement door and open it for him. “I can go look.”
He chuckles. “I got it, Virginia. You’re busy here.”
I nod as he passes me. I lick my lips as I look at his bare back, his perfect butt. His perfect everything.
He looks over his shoulder. “Hey, not fair. I’m the only one in a towel.”
Heat rises to my cheeks as I reach for a broom to sweep up the candy.
And sweep my embarrassment under the rug
Chapter Three
Tanner
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like watching Virginia get all flustered at seeing me more than half naked -- it’s cute, the way the heat rises to her cheeks, the way she bites the corner of her lip. And the truth is, I'm all kinds of worked up too.
It’s been a long time since my heart stirred for a woman, and just from walking around Virginia’s farmhouse, I can tell she is special. Of course, she is gorgeous -- long legs and bright eyes -- but it's the details of her home that spread a warmth through me.
The house I shared with Savvy was all chaos and disorder. Nothing had a proper place. And that summed up Savvy in a lot of ways. A beautiful force to be reckoned with; she was a thunderstorm more often than a cloudless day.
This farmhouse tells a different story. It looks as if Virginia spent days, weeks, months putting everything in its place -- and not in an OCD way; in a way that says she cares. That this farmhouse means something to her. That it’s her home.
The kitchen is lined with dog-eared cookbooks and bowls of fresh fruit. The hardwood floors are polished, and a second coat rack has been hung at the eye level of a child, I already see Willa and Cash’s jackets hung up. They have a place. There are signs and plaques on the wall which in some homes, might be corny--Bless This Mess and Home is Where the Heart Is--but for some reason, they don’t sound like canned lines when hanging in this farmhouse. They sound like the heartbeat of this home, and Virginia is the heart.
When I find her in the foyer, I’m fully dressed this time and give her a warm smile. There is a blush to her cheeks, but also an energy between us.
“The shower warm up okay?” she asks, pulling on her gloves. They are pale pink, just like the gloss on her lips, and I feel my chest tighten as I look her over.
“Yeah, it was perfect, thanks. Shall we?” I ask, opening the door.
God, she looks good, she’s wearing a white down coat and wraps a fluffy white scarf around her neck, her long blonde hair trailing down her back. She looks like a snow princess -- a sexy marshmallow -- and I run a hand over my beard, wondering where these thoughts are even coming from.
It’s not like me, to be caught up like this, but the moment I saw Virginia my body knew. Knew her.
Outside, the air is crisp, and the sky is blue as we trudge up the hill past the farmhouse. Virginia walks a few steps ahead of me and I can’t help but enjoy the view. It’s been so long since I felt a spark like this; a fire growing inside me.
I miss it.
“See down there, the lake?” Virginia points. “I see people skating there, but I’m way too scared. If the ice cracked… I can’t imagine…”
“I’m risk-averse myself. I like a challenge, but I have a lot of responsibility. I don’t take that lightly.”
“I can understand that. I’m scared for the opposite reason. If something happened to me out here… it might take days before someone realized.
We stop as we reach the top of the hill where there is a rustic bench on the lookout. I set down the sled as Virginia spreads a blanket on the seat. Then out of her backpack, she pulls out the thermos of coffee. She hands it to me, then reaches in deeper for a flask.
“Are you a whiskey man?” she asks, her eyebrows raised.
I laugh. “I’m a songwriter from Nashville. I became a man drinking bourbon. So yes, I’d say so.”
“Good, because I’m a whiskey girl.” She pours the contents of the flask into the thermos. “Drink up, you deserve it after the week you’ve had. Driving across the country in the winter with that crew? You’re crazy.”
“They think so too.” I take the thermos from her, take a drink.
It’s good. It warms my bones. I feel lighter right now than I have in a long-ass time and I figure it has a lot to do with my company. Virginia is gentle and sweet, a whiskey girl who can make cinnamon rolls from scratch — a woman who isn’t intimidated by a house full of strangers.
<
br /> I wish I were in a different place in life — not that I don’t want my family. God, they are my whole damn world… but sometimes, like right now, I wish I were free. Free enough to forget the past and just be here, with a pretty woman who wears a pink smile, who only knows me for who I am today.
“Why’d you come this way?” she asks.
I run a hand through my hair, having known this was coming. “The kids and I didn’t want another holiday in the house in Nashville. Their mother, my wife, she died a year ago and… well, it’s hard to be there without her.”
Virginia’s eyes soften, but they still sparkle blue, matching the sky, lit up by the pure white snow. “You all must really miss her.”
“The kids have it the worst, I figure. I prepared myself for a long time for this. Savannah was sick for years. Her passing was a relief in some ways; we no longer need to see her in so much pain.”
“God, Tanner,” she whispers setting her hand on my arm “That’s so heartbreaking.”
My skin somehow prickles under her touch, even though I’m wearing, what? Three layers? There’s still a heat from her touch. God, it’s been a long time since anyone looked at me with the sort of tenderness I see in her eyes. My sister, my mother — good women, but they look at me with pity. Virginia looks at me with a depth. This girl has seen shit go down; no one can look at a man like she’s looking at me unless she has a past.
“So, why’d you come this way?” I ask her. “You’re not from here either.”
“How’d you know?”
“You look like you’ve been places is all.”
“Is that a line from a song you wrote?” she asks.
“It should be.”
She smiles, gives the slightest shake of her head. “My story isn’t a happy one either.”
“Who died?”
She exhales. “No one, really. Mostly it seems like I’m the one who died. Or at least the girl I used to be was buried somewhere.”
“That’s heavy shit for a woman your age.”
“You think you know how old I am?” she asks, twisting her lips.
“Old enough to run your own business, drink whiskey on a mountain; old enough to know that life isn’t easy.”
“It sure isn’t.” She presses her mitten-covered knuckles to her mouth. “Gosh, we were supposed to come up here and relax, get your mind off being a single dad with all those kids. I was supposed to show you a good time, Tanner.”
“I’m having a good time.”
It’s true. Sitting here, with Virginia, is calming. Peaceful. She isn’t loud like my kids — vying for my attention. She’s an old soul and I want to know her stories. All of them.
“So am I.” She says it so simply that I believe her. She’s not putting on a front. She’s genuine, through and through.
“Do you believe everything happens for a reason?” I ask her, our bodies close, sitting side-by-side on a bench, and we turn, facing one another. The question hangs in the air.
She blinks, and when she looks into my eyes I see the glistening of tears in hers. “I believe that things get harder before they get easy. I believe in second chances. But things happening for a reason?” She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. There’s as much evil in this world as there is good, and there is no reason for that. No reason at all.”
I swallow, hard. Her words take my heart to a whole new place. A place where possibility dwells. A place where futures might not be so broken as our lost dreams. A place where my story didn’t end the day Savvy died. A place where a new story starts. Here. On this mountain. With a woman I hardly know.
“I also believe in miracles, Tanner,” she says so softly it’s really a whisper. But I hear her. It’s out of character, my growing desire for her. The overwhelming need to touch her face, to kiss her lips. It’s not just the warmth of a woman I crave.
It’s her.
It’s impossible to hold back. And I don’t want to right now … and the way Virginia looks at me, I don’t think she wants me to hold back either.
I know it complicates things, but I want to ride this out. With her.
My palm cups her cheek and my mouth draws close to hers. She smells like cinnamon and Christmas. She smells like a new sort of home.
“I believe in miracles too, Virginia Sutton.” I kiss her then, my body unable to hold back. I kiss her then, craving the sweetness of her lips against mine. I kiss her then, knowing something that feels so good, so right, can’t be a mistake.
Snowflakes fall, putting us in the center of a winter wonderland; our own snow globe.
Her lips are soft pillows and her tongue is warm as it presses against mine. It’s a kiss I wasn’t expecting to find today — or any day. Ever.
It’s a kiss that leaves me wanting so much more.
Chapter Four
Virginia
The kiss takes my breath away. It’s like our bodies melted together even though we’re outside with the freezing air around us. When we pull apart, I bite down on my bottom lip.
I’ve been kissed before, sure.
But never, ever like this.
This kiss held time, held space, for Tanner and for me. I don’t know what that means for a man like him and a girl like me. But I want more of it. I need to say something.
“I wasn’t re—”
He cuts me off. “Shit, did I just go and fuck it all up? I’m sorry, Virginia, I just —”
“Shhh,” I interrupt. “I just wasn’t expecting that today is all.”
He closes his eyes; his broad shoulders fall. A smile fills his face. “Me either.”
I don’t know what to do with the jittery emotions running through me. It’s not the coffee that has me spun up. It’s him. A man so different than any man I’ve ever been so close to.
“Come on,” I say, taking his hand. “Let’s show your kids what you’re made of.”
He grins, pulling me to the sled. His thick beard and dark brown eyes and deep hearty laugh make me feel alive; make me feel like this moment on the mountainside really is special.
“Don’t worry,” he says, sitting down on the sled, tugging me between his legs. “You’ll fit.”
I gasp as my butt hits the sled, as his arms wrap naturally around my waist—holding onto me as we begin to glide down the snow. We laugh, shocked and exhilarated. It’s fun. The kind of fun you have as a kid. The kind of fun I haven’t had for so damn long.
As he squeezes me, I have a feeling he hasn’t had this kind of fun for a really long time either. Before us is nothing but snow and the farmhouse and the lake. It’s a glittering day full of bright sun and promise.
When we get to the bottom of the hill, his twins are running outside, cheering for us. Clapping their hands and asking for a turn.
“Of course, Clover,” Tanner says, swinging his daughter onto his shoulders. “Let’s go!”
I watch him run up the hill with his little girl. They are easy to see even at the top of the hill, next to the bench, and a flush of shame washes over me. Did his children see us kiss?
I press a hand to my mouth, scared at the thought. But then I remember no one was out here before we came down in the sled.
Tanner and Clover are down a minute later, and he hands the sled off to his son, Cash, telling them to have at it. They run off excitedly and Tanner hands me my thermos. “You forgot this up there.”
“Thanks,” I say, my fingertips brushing against his. “I guess I should go make my guests some dinner.”
“You want help?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, I’m sure you have some unloading to do. Thank you, though, for the offer.”
We stand there for a moment. I wonder what Tanner would do if it were just him and me at this house. Alone. If there weren’t six children within earshot.
He lifts his chin, running a hand over his beard. “You’re probably right. Should go check to see if the kids need help.”
I nod, watching him walk away, my stomach in knots. On my way to t
he kitchen, I pass Willa and Lily on the stairwell. They’re arguing about bedrooms, with piles of boxes littering the floor. In the hallway, Levi is groaning, his smartphone in the air as he tries to find reception. I weave past him, trying to maintain calm even though this arrangement is so new, on so many levels.
In the kitchen, I begin pulling out vegetables and a package of chicken breasts from the fridge. Focus, Virginia. Focus.
Of course, I can’t. All I can think about are Tanner’s lips against mine. How good it felt to talk to him, to laugh with him. To sled down the hill with our bodies tight together.
I fan myself, trying to remember just how long it’s been since I’ve been with someone.
Not since Ricky.
That’s too long. And at the same time, it’s not long enough. Never will be.
But Tanner is a widower… he has a whole tribe of kids. He has baggage and responsibility. What happened up there, with our mouths, was a one-off thing. Wasn’t it?
I pull out my phone, dialing Laila’s number. She doesn’t answer — she’s probably too busy having wild sex with her husband. I bite the side of my lip, wanting to process this with someone.
So, I call Grace, my brother, Bear’s, wife.
“Hey, Grace,” I say when she answers. “Everything going okay?” I ask, knowing she always has her hands full with a set of twins and triplets.
She laughs. “The terrible twos are no joke, but we’re hanging in there. I just finished dehydrating some apples and am debating what I should make for dinner.”
“What are your choices?”
“Meatloaf or lentil soup.”
“Bear’s gonna be eating this?”
“Yeah, why?”
I laugh. “Then meatloaf all the way,” I say. “Meat’s the way to a man’s heart.”
“I suppose you’re right. Especially the men on this mountain.” I hear a crying baby in the background, but Grace doesn’t miss a beat. “Sorry, just getting Abel in the highchair.”
RAISED: The Mountain Man’s Babies Page 2
