Christmas With A Mountain Man (Rich & Rugged: A Hawkins Brothers Romance Book 5)

by Ellie Hall

  They’d spent plenty of time together but hadn’t kissed again. Not because she didn’t want to, but he seemed to finally be letting her in—or at least not hating her. She was patient and open to letting things develop like the flavor in a good tomato sauce that needed to simmer and was always worth the wait.

  She saw more in Rocky than a reclusive mountain man. He had a past that colored his present, but she’d find out in time. Not only that, but he had a good heart and took amazing care of the dogs. He was also extremely talented with his woodworking.

  Maybe it was because she didn’t have her usual work to keep her busy in the kitchen at the restaurant, but she was determined to make Christmas special for both of them. Like it or not, they were neighbors. No one should be alone for Christmas and she assumed he’d hole up in the cabin.

  After spending the morning brainstorming ideas with a notebook and some old recipe cards she’d found in the cabin, someone knocked on the door. The rumble of a truck came from the driveway.

  She opened the door to a clear sky and gray eyes.

  “Hey,” Rocky said slowly. His lips quirked as though he was thinking about the kiss.

  So was she.

  “Hi,” she said, feeling as though she’d stepped into a fog, pulled toward him like vapor over water.

  Another man appeared from the path around the side of the house. “Where would you like me to put the delivery?”

  Frankie’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

  “I noticed you were running low on wood when I came by the other night. Called in Fred to drop by a few cords. I’d share mine, but I’ll be needing it.”

  “Does this mean that you aren’t going to kick me off the mountain?” The comment reminded her of how she’d been evicted from her restaurant space, but it didn’t tear her up inside the way it had for the last few months. It wasn’t that she no longer cared, but hope had appeared in her heart. Whereas before she saw no way forward, no future, and had doubted her ability to figure things out. Now, she trusted that she would. She didn’t know how or when, but was certain that things would be okay. At least she hoped so.

  Rocky gave her a long look. “Even if I did, you wouldn’t budge.”

  “You got that right.”

  He smiled and brushed his hand along his beard. “Well, I better get to stacking that wood.” He turned toward the back of the house.

  “Wait, come over for dinner tonight. I also want to thank you for letting me sleep on your couch and saving me from the storm...and for the wood.”

  “No need. Thanks for, uh, well, for—” He blinked a couple of times as though not sure what to say or how to say it. “Thanks for being you.” Without waiting for her reply he turned and called to Fred, “I’ll catch you later, man.”

  Fred honked once.

  Frankie was going to help stack the wood but halted. His comment, thanking her for being herself must’ve been tough for him to admit, to say out loud. She figured it would be better to let it settle for a moment and not crowd him. And she wanted him to earn his dinner as well as work up an appetite because it would nearly be a feast.

  She went to the market then planned to spend the afternoon decorating, cooking, and baking.

  The cabin was cozy and clean after she’d donated so much to the families in need. Earlier in the week, she and Rocky had even brought ten freshly cut trees for the families the church had adopted for the holidays.

  Hawk Ridge Hollow was a winter wonderland, but in the last week, it had been transformed into Christmas central, which made a certain kind of sense since it was cold enough to be the North Pole. But Frankie enjoyed the carolers in the streets, the trimmings on the trees, the scent of chocolate wafting in the air—most likely coming from Mom & Lollipops. She stopped in to pick up the finishing touches for the evening with Rocky.

  “Hello, there,” Carol said in greeting. She wore a red and white apron. With her poufy white hair, rosy cheeks, and glasses, she resembled Mrs. Claus.

  “It smells divine in here.”

  “Smells like Christmas. My busiest time of year, but also my favorite. What can I help you with, dear?”

  “I’m making gingerbread houses. Actually, gingerbread log cabins.”

  Carol’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, that’s a first.” Her face brightened as though inspired and then said, “Hold on, have you become acquainted with a certain mountain man?”

  Frankie’s mouth slowly fell open as she recalled the conversation the two women had when she’d first arrived in town.

  “That smile on your lips is answer enough for me,” Carol said.

  Frankie’s shock must’ve unwittingly transformed into a grin. There was no denying it, she liked the mountain man. A lot. It was unexpected, unlikely, and wrong if they were to follow the rules of the family feud, but she wanted to watch him carve wood, hang out with him and the dogs, take walks in the woods, and spend Christmas together. Christmases, plural.

  “In that case, I happen to know he likes marzipan and ribbon candy, but his favorite are spice drops. Those little red-hot candies.” Carol led Frankie over to the old-fashioned candy display.

  “Spice Drops? Makes sense.”

  “He’s a fiery one, that’s for sure.” Carol guffawed.

  “When we first met, it was like he had a chip on his shoulder, but he’s softened,” Frankie said.

  “It was more like a puck, but that’s good to hear.”

  “What do you mean?” Frankie asked.

  Carol wasn’t able to answer because a flurry of customers came in and she had to tend to them.

  After returning to the cabin, Frankie cooked and baked up a storm. The scent of pesto polenta with thyme roasted garbanzo beans scented the air along with the swirled garlic herb bread she’d just pulled from the oven. It was a beautiful knot streaked with fresh herbs she’d picked up in town. She was also finishing off a lemon butter piccata recipe she’d never before tried.

  She expected Rocky any moment and didn’t have the warning the dogs gave him when she approached—or, as he’d commented, heard her melodious singing thundering through the woods.

  After quickly freshening up, she turned on Christmas carols, tossed a log on the fire, and set the table. Just as she pulled the piccata from the stove, a knock came from the front door.

  Once again, Rocky stood, filling the doorway with his massive frame. Instead of a scowl, he had the boyish look of a guy picking up his date for the first time. In his hands, he had a bundle of something green. He extended it to her.

  “Not flowers?” she said slowly, examining the thin green leaves. Little white berries were buried in the bunch that he’d tied with a red ribbon. A smile grew on her face. “It’s mistletoe,” she breathed.

  She knew what that meant. She had an idea of what they could be doing at the end of the night when he stood in that very doorway, just before leaving. They’d seal the perfect evening with a kiss and she looked forward to every second of it.

  As Rocky took off his coat and settled in, he went on to tell her about the plant species. He got a bit nerdy about how it was actually invasive in some areas, twining itself around a host tree. “However, it’s becoming rarer. I spotted this bunch earlier when I was out hiking with the dogs.” He paused as though trying to come up with the words for what he wanted to say.

  She helped him along. “And you thought of me?”

  He nodded and took a sip of the warm cider she’d offered.

  “There’s also folklore about mistletoe,” he added.

  “That you kiss your sweetheart underneath it,” she said.

  “Yeah and according to some folklore it’s a symbol of...” It was like the words were right there on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say them.

  “...It’s a symbol of love for anyone who kisses beneath it.”

  He nodded. The moment stretched, wrapping itself around them, drawing them closer. One step, two. Frankie lifted her chin to meet his gaze.

  A timer d
inged and she jumped. “Oh, the string beans should be done.” She put everything on the table and hung the mistletoe above the door.

  The apple cider seemed to warm Rocky up because conversation flowed easily at dinner. With him, it was like once the ice was broken, he wasn’t a man of few words at all. Mostly, it seemed like he enjoyed listening to her stories and asked her lots of questions in all of the right places—especially about cooking.

  “The other night, when you were writing a letter...”

  “Yeah, to Santa Claus,” Frankie answered around a laugh. “I promise, I’ve been a very good girl. Although my brothers would probably disagree.”

  “Were you writing them?”

  She shook her head. “No. There are six of them so that would take a while. We text a lot, but not lately since my service up here stinks.” She paused a beat. “How about you? Have you seen much of your brothers lately?”

  He stiffened and then shook his head.

  She remembered her strategy of dealing with guys and difficult to talk about subjects. “As you can imagine, growing up as the only girl, and the baby at that, was sometimes tough. What’s the order in your family?”

  “I’m the youngest too,” he said after a moment.

  “Remember your comment that first day we met? Something like who said I’m pretty? All six of my brothers and my dad. They tell me I’m beautiful all the time. They won’t let me forget.”

  A log popped in the fireplace. After a thoughtful moment, Rocky said, “You, your confidence. It’s rare. I don’t expect to hold a candle to your brothers or your family, but you are more than pretty, Francesca.” He took a breath. “You are exquisite. Everything about you, everything you touch. It’s beautiful. Delicious. Amazing. I’ve never met anyone like you. I wish I had the right words to express it.”

  Warmth enveloped her like a hug.

  She thought he was done. He’d already said so much, but he went on. “When I’m around you, life feels fun.” A smile split his face. “You’ve challenged me. Helped me open up. Fed more than my appetite.” He reached for her hands, hesitated, and then threaded his big fingers around hers.

  Their eyes met. The table separated them, but nothing else...except for whatever he wasn’t saying about his past. Whatever had kept him on the mountain and had made it necessary for her to come along and draw him out of it.

  “Remember I mentioned my restaurant? It was called Mangia Bella. Eat, beautiful. My father always said that to me. Anyway, there was a loophole in the lease. I lost everything. At least I thought I did. I came here and found...”

  That time, he finished her sentence. “You found me.”

  “Did I?” she asked, hopeful.

  A shadow crossed his eyes as though he knew that she wanted him to say more, but he wasn’t ready to open up and tell her what had caused him to become a hermit.

  For Frankie, it felt good to talk about her situation. She still didn’t know what her future held, but she hoped he could be a part of it.

  “My brothers knew what happened to the restaurant, but I didn’t tell my parents.” Liquid sprung to her eyes and her lip quivered. “I thought I had something to prove since I’m the youngest and the only girl. I feel strangely ashamed like I failed.”

  He got up from the table and lifted her to her feet, tenderly taking her in his arms. “You didn’t fail, Frankie. If I know you at all, I’d say you’re just getting started.” His chin fit on top of her head as he pulled her against his chest in a hug.

  It was a bit of relief to finally say that out loud. To hear his response. He believed in her. She knew her parents did. She just had to find the spark to light her inner fire again. In the meantime, she found comfort. Immense comfort listening to the steady drum of Rocky’s heart.

  When they pulled apart, he said. “I’m not exactly the star player in the family.”

  “But you were. Hockey, right?” she asked.

  “Yeah, then I quit.”

  “Why?” she asked softly as though approaching a scared dog. She didn’t want to frighten him off.

  He stepped away and toward the fire then let out a long sigh. “Anger management problems. Under control now. Dealt with the past by staying in the woods where it’s peaceful. On the other hand, my brothers are the ones who’re heroes.” His eyes lost focus like he was somewhere else and didn’t want to talk about either subject.

  “Tell me they’re not as crazy as my brothers.”

  His expression softened. “There’s a firefighter, cop, bodyguard, and a cowboy. I’ll let you decide. How do I even compete with that?”

  “When you put it that way, I’d say you don’t compete. They’re your brothers, but if you ask me, I think you’re alright.” She met him where he stood, intending her smile to tell him that she thought he was more than alright.

  “Well, you’re the only one,” he mumbled.

  “Sometimes that’s enough.”

  He tucked her long hair behind her shoulders. Taking her jaw in his hands, he kissed her lightly on the lips before drawing back. “You are more than enough.”

  Even though the kiss didn’t lengthen, the feel of it lingered on her lips.

  She didn’t want to press him about his family and hockey. He’d said so much already. She trusted she’d find out the story eventually.

  They cleaned up the dinner and he did the dishes, insisting she kick back and relax.

  As he stood at the sink, he called, “That was the best meal I think I’ve ever eaten. I’m happy to earn my keep around here.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to work for your dessert too.”

  After he finished cleaning the dishes, they settled in the living room where she’d set out all the gingerbread house supplies.

  “This is what you meant by working for my dessert? I have to build a house? Unfortunately, my woodworking capabilities don’t extend much beyond carving and joinery.”

  “And the furniture you’ve made and the repairs around the cabin, making this little project perfect. This isn’t a gingerbread house. It’s a gingerbread cabin.” Frankie had drawn lines of royal icing to make the walls of the house look like they were made of logs.

  They worked together assembling the pieces and then started decorating it.

  Rocky snuck a few of the fiery red-hot candies.

  “Hey, I saw that,” she said.

  Rocky’s expression turned sheepish.

  “But I suppose I can let it slide this time. We do make good neighbors after all. Plus, I did more than borrow a cup of sugar. I invaded your home, warmed by the fire, fell asleep. Messed up your couch pillows...”

  He ate a few more of the candies.

  She playfully swatted at him.

  They both laughed.

  To her list, he added, “You’ve also driven me nuts. Made me bring you to church, rammed into me with your shopping cart, and turned my dogs against me. They prefer you...”

  “Correction. I drive you wild.” She winked. “And you got to bring me to church, and as for the dogs, they adore me, but you will always be their pack leader. I’d never try to take their place.”

  “No, but you are the queen of this mountain.” His expression softened for a split second.

  She leaned back, surprised to hear him pay her a compliment, but just as quickly he scowled as though over the course of the night, he’d already said too much. He abruptly got to his feet. “I should go.”

  “Oh no, you don’t, mountain man. We’re finishing this log cabin. No rest until every piece of candy is adhered or eaten.”

  “I really should check on the dogs.”

  “The dogs can manage for a few hours. They’re warm inside, have food, water...” He treated them like kings and queens.

  He tipped back and forth in his boots like he was torn between staying or going.

  “Come on, it’s the holiday season. Be cheerful. Finish building this gingerbread cabin with me,” she coaxed.

  He shook his head and started toward t
he door. Just like that, it seemed like a switch had been flipped. His switch flipped her switch. The fiery red-hot candies burned in her mouth. As she spoke, she wanted the words to scorch. “Don’t you have feelings, Rocky?” It was like he’d been hibernating up on the mountain and just when he’d started to come back to life, he’d suddenly shut down.

  He turned from the door and his temple twitched. “If I had feelings at all, feelings for anyone, they’d be for you. But I don’t.”

  She found her way between the harshness in his words. “You’re lying. I know you have feelings. I’m not afraid to say that I have them. I have feelings for you, Rocky Hawkins.” She strode over to him. “Oh, and look. I didn’t explode. The world didn’t end. Nothing bad happened when I told the truth.”

  “The truth?” He shook his head. “Not yet,” he said in a warning tone. “Nothing bad has happened yet.”

  “You just won’t let yourself get close. There is no denying the spark between us.” She held his gaze, not backing down.

  He was the picture of conflict. Soft eyes, a wrinkled forehead, his lips on the edge of a scowl. But the part of him that sided with Frankie must’ve won because he leaned in and planted his lips on her mouth, silencing her.

  The kiss blazed straight to her heart. She was exploding. The world was ending. The world as she knew it. Because it was bigger, better, brighter with Rocky in it. Even though he was trying to push her out. To keep himself from enjoying what they were becoming.

  Her fingers dug into his beard, finding his face, trying to find him.

  His arms banded around her, pulling her close, closer.

  Her heart pressed against his and they both raced.

  His trying to run away from what was happening.

  Hers, keeping up with him.

  She paused and said, “I think this could work. You and me.”

  “Why’s that?” he asked, planting a kiss on her lips before and after each word. His hands tangled in her hair, drawing her head closer, but she answered anyway.

  “Because we’re under the mistletoe.”

  There was part of the folklore that Rocky didn’t mention. But they both knew it. Accidentally kissing under the mistletoe, instead of purposely standing under it to nab a kiss, meant only one thing. True love.