“I can’t do that.”
He leans against his truck. “Yes, you can.”
A shower would be nice, and something tells me Jack’s not going to take no for an answer.
“Okay,” I eventually agree. “If you don’t think they’ll mind.”
Instead of getting in the truck as I expect, he starts back for the lodge.
“It’s okay,” he says when he sees me hesitate. “We’ll go in the back way.”
We climb the stairs to a second-story balcony. Flowers grow in pots on the deck, and a grill that would make Dad drool sits next to a patio set. From the deck, there’s a view of the valley on the other side of the mountain.
Jack takes out his ring of keys and lets us in.
Halfway through the door, I turn toward him. “Your parents live in the lodge?”
“They own the lodge.”
For a fleeting moment, I wonder if they would cancel Hudson’s room. That would probably be bad for business, though, so I don’t ask.
“You’re sure they won’t mind?”
Jack shakes his head and leads me through a glass-enclosed sunroom. There are even more plants in here.
“You can use the guest bathroom. They won’t care.” He opens a door and ushers me in. “Take your time.”
I find myself in a bedroom. A bright quilt covers the bed, and it’s tucked into a natural-log bed frame. The walls are light beige and the floor is natural stone dotted with a few plush ivory rugs. It’s warm and friendly, classy without being pretentious.
Exhausted and heartsick as I am, the bed, with its big, overstuffed pillows, looks awfully inviting.
I turn away while I still have the willpower to resist it.
The first door I find opens to a closet. The second door leads to a bathroom done in more of the dark stone.
Feeling like I’m doing something scandalous, I turn on the shower and let the room fill with steam. The spray feels incredible, and for a moment, I just stand under it, letting it rain on me.
Then, in the privacy of a stranger’s shower, I lose it. I lean forward, clutching my stomach as I acknowledge the pain of Hudson’s betrayal. Tears run down my cheeks, joining with the water, and I sink to the ground.
How could he cheat on me? And is it my fault? If I’d just given him a little more—or a lot more—maybe he wouldn’t have wanted Amber.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Hey,” Jack says when I walk into the living room. “Feel better?”
He’s not alone. His sisters are with him, as is an older couple that I’m going to assume are his parents. Awkward doesn’t even cover it. I’ve just used these people’s shower, and I haven’t even met half of them.
“Yes, thank you.” I work up a smile.
The woman, who I recognize as the woman behind the counter of the general store, stands and greets me, clasping my hands in her own. “I’m Sandy and this is my husband, Allen. Jack says you’re staying in Richard and Elaina's cabin? That must make you Lynna’s daughter, right? You were no older than eight or nine last time I saw you.”
Her words surprise me, but I suppose they shouldn’t. Mom practically grew up here. Of course she would know people.
“That’s right.”
Her smile dims. “Your grandpa passed this last year?” I nod, and she squeezes my hands. “I’m sorry to hear that. He and your grandma were such nice people.”
I shift, a little overwhelmed by the attention.
She gives me a fond smile. “Your parents are selling the cabin, though? That’s a shame.”
“The memories are hard on Mom.”
Sandy nods and finally lets go of my hands. “I can imagine. Well, Kinsley, you are very welcome here. In fact, just come on by tomorrow. Jack says your water won’t be turned on until Monday.”
“Thanks,” I say, and I mean it.
“In fact…” Her eyes light up. “Why don’t you just stay with us the next couple nights? You can have that back bedroom. Once they’ve taken care of your water, and you’ve had a chance to wash the bedding and things, you can go back to your cabin.”
I’m about to decline her offer, but then I stop myself. She’s right—I have no way to wash the dusty bedding. And one night in my car was one night too many.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course!”
I slowly nod. Okay. I’ll stay with Jack’s parents for a few days. That won’t be weird.
“This’ll be fun.” Agnes elbows Shannon. “We have so many stories to tell you about Jack.”
The two grin Cheshire cat smiles at their older brother.
Jack rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t rise to their bait.
Ignoring them, he stands. “You hungry? The food at the cafe’s pretty good.”
Sandy frowns and says, “You two don’t have to rush off. You’re welcome to stay—” She stops mid-sentence and turns to her daughter, who is clearing her throat loudly, being extremely obvious. “Shannon, are you all right?”
My face must turn five shades of red as the girls share a look and start laughing. Allen, who has been pretty silent up until now, even begins to chuckle.
With a goodbye wave to his family, Jack pulls me out the door. “I’m sorry. They’re embarrassing.”
“Mine are too,” I assure him, and then I examine the zipper closure on my purse. “Is it going to be too weird for you if I stay here for a couple days?”
“No.”
His answer is so immediate and sure, I look up. It strikes me yet again just how handsome he is. And nice. Nicer than Hudson.
Not liking where my thoughts are straying, I look away. I don’t want to think about my ex.
I walk along the railing. Beyond the deck, the sun is setting, and the valley is gold in the light.
“You look too nice to take to the cafe,” Jack says.
I’m just in the clothes I changed into earlier. My hair is still wet, twisted into a quick, messy bun. I had enough makeup in my purse to give myself a little color, and I found a pair of earrings that I took off last week during a shopping trip.
It seems silly to decorate myself after what happened with Hudson, but still…
“Thanks.”
Jack steps a little closer. “Was that the guy you were talking about?”
I wait a moment before I answer. “Yeah.”
“He’s a jerk, you know.”
Not quite looking at him, I nod. “I know.”
We stand together, watching the sunset. Eventually, he nudges my shoulder. “Let’s get some dinner.”
***
We’re the last people in the cafe. I know they must want to close soon, but I can’t seem to make myself leave. Apparently Jack can’t either.
Scooping up another bite of pie, I ask, “So you’ve never considered it?”
“No.”
Jack snags a piece of apple off my plate before I can move it away. He had his own desert, but that hasn’t stopped him from eating half of mine.
I lean forward on my elbows. “Even with your name?”
He tries to take another bite, but I’m quicker this time and move the plate.
“No.” He gives me a wry look. “I’ve never considered becoming a lumberjack.”
His expression morphing to a grin, he reaches for the plate again. This time, I pull it off the table and hold it on my lap. I shake my head and give him a challenging smile.
It’s all the encouragement Jack needs. He darts from his side of the booth and slides into mine. I squeal—quietly, so I won’t get us kicked out—and hold the plate behind me. He reaches for it, stretching past me.
And here we are, face to face, close enough that if I were to shift forward ever so slightly and tilt my head, our lips would meet.
Jack seems to realize it at the same moment, and his hazel gaze drops to my lips. My heartbeat feels somehow distant.
“We’re closing, Jack,” our waitress says from behind us. “Don’t make me call your mother.”
Jack pulls bac
k as if he’s been shocked.
“Yes, Ma’am.” He slaps money for our check on the table and scoots out of the bench.
I dig for my wallet. “Let me help with that.”
Jack scoops the bill off the table and hands it directly to the waitress. “My treat.”
The woman, whose name tag reads “Edna,” peers at us from over her glasses.
Jack gives her a respectful nod.
She eyes us for a moment longer and then saunters back to the counter. The bells on the door chime as we make our escape.
As we cross the tree-lined parking lot, I cross my arms. Despite how chilly it was last night, I still forgot to bring a coat.
“It’s cold out here,” I say.
Immediately, Jack slips his jacket off, but I shake my head when he tries to offer it to me.
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
Not taking no for an answer, he steps forward, raises the jacket over my head, and slips it around my shoulders. For a split second, I’m pressed against his chest.
And what a lovely chest it is.
Jack steps back, but his hands stay on my shoulders. The night envelopes us, wrapping us in pine-scented privacy.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods, his eyes on my face. He wears an expression that makes the butterflies in my stomach take flight. I want to lean into him, tilt my lips toward him in invitation…
What’s wrong with me?
This morning, I fully planned on getting back together with Hudson and naming our future, career-minded babies.
I wrap my arms around myself, trying not to breathe in the scent of Jack’s jacket, and take a casual step away. “It’s a pretty night. You don’t see stars like this in the city.”
Jack clears his throat and looks up. “Yeah. I take them for granted sometimes.”
He must be freezing; the mountain air is cold. If he is, he shows no sign of it.
Shifting his keys in his hand, he says, “I guess we should get back.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of us moves for a few moments, but he finally opens my door.
“Ladies first.” He waits until I’m in my seat, and then he closes it.
That’s kind of sweet. Did Hudson ever open my door for me? I don’t think so.
We make small talk during the three-minute drive back to the lodge. I think our moment must have affected Jack a little because he seems as off balance as I am.
Maybe he is the sweet mountain boy he seems to be. But if that’s true, why hasn’t someone snatched him up?
***
When I join Jack’s parents in the morning, I wonder if it’s written all over my face I’m developing a bit of a crush on their son. If it is, they’re doing a good job of pretending they don’t notice.
“Come on in, Kinsley.” Sandy hands me a mug. “You want some coffee?”
She’s already pouring it in the cup before I can answer.
I take a sip. “Where are the girls?”
“They’re working the coffee bar this morning,” Allen answers.
He extends his mug when Sandy holds out the carafe, offering to top his cup off.
“We haven’t seen Jack yet,” Sandy says, answering my next question before I can ask it. “But he should be by anytime. He said there is quite a bit to do at your place.”
I nod and attempt to make a dent in the massive stack of pancakes Sandy slides on my plate.
With all the ice cream, fancy coffee, cafe food, and white flour-laden breakfasts I’ve been consuming, I’m going to gain weight if I don’t do something to work it off. How in the world do the twins stay so thin?
Unlike Liv and Ginger, I’ve always been curvy—which means I have a nice hourglass at the healthy weight I am now, but if I gain anything, it goes straight to my butt. And other areas, but that’s not so bad. Unfortunately, it’s all or nothing.
I hear Jack’s footsteps before he strides through the front room. I glance up briefly, smile, and then study my breakfast. Last night, while I was trying to fall asleep, my imagination got away with me. I kept thinking of all the things I should have said or done last night in the moonlight—like push him up against his truck and kiss him breathless.
Oblivious to my thoughts, Jack sets a disposable coffee cup next to my plate.
Sandy raises an eyebrow. “The girls didn’t think mine was up to par?”
“No, I just thought Kinsley might like one of Agnes’s, that’s all.”
My stomach flutters. He brought me coffee.
I finish the last sip from Sandy’s mug in one gulp, and then I take a taste of Jack’s. It’s probably fifty-thousand calories, but, oh my, it’s good.
I tap the cup. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He sits next to me and helps himself to an impressive stack of his mother’s pancakes. “Sleep well?”
No. “Yep.”
“Ready to get to work?”
Pointing to his breakfast, I say, “After you're done attacking that mountain.”
He pours a pool of hot syrup over the whole thing. “This won’t take me anytime at all.”
“That’s true,” Sandy says. “But the girls can give him a run for his money.”
I only shake my head and smile.
When Jack’s finished, we head to his truck. As if I wasn’t already flustered enough, he has to help me with the broken buckle again.
He really should get that fixed.
His hand accidentally brushes my leg, and I shiver, feeling ridiculous.
We drive down the road, and I try not to think of him sitting there, just a few feet from me.
Jack’s manner is warm and friendly, making me think he didn’t spend the night thinking about me—which is sort of a shame. He tells me about some of the local four-wheeling trails, and I listen, mentally marking off which ones I won’t set foot—or wheel—on.
“Why four-wheelers?” I ask. “Why not horses?”
Jack laughs, his eyes on the road. “I don’t have a lot of use for them.”
I grin. “Who doesn’t like horses? Isn’t that kind of like not liking puppies?”
He rolls his eyes, a good-natured expression on his face. “You only have to feed a four-wheeler when you want to use it. And you can shut it in a shed and forget about it until you’re ready to ride again.”
“I suppose you can’t do that with a horse.”
He grins. “It’s generally frowned upon.”
We turn the corner, and Jack’s truck rumbles to a stop.
The cabin is exactly how we left it. Though I would like to make cutting back the roses my priority, there are more important things to tend to.
While Jack scales the roof to fix the screen in the chimney, I venture into the house.
Though I know my monster was just a bird, I’m still a little spooked in here.
First, I’ll open all the windows and let the sunshine and breeze chase the shadows away. I go through every room, and in each one, I cringe.
This place is firmly stuck in the nineties. If we’re going to sell it, it’s going to need a makeover.
I find a vacuum in one of the closets. It’s old and heavy, but I wrestle it to the front room. When I switch it on, it roars to life.
Lugging it behind me, I suck up cobwebs from corners. It’s brainless work, and my mind keeps wandering to Jack. Unfortunately, when I think of Jack, I inevitably think of Hudson’s reaction to him.
Every time I think of Hudson, I get mad.
And every time I get mad, I end up knocking down one of Grandma’s knick-knacks.
Another one falls. I groan and shut off the vacuum. I kneel and pick up the truly hideous ceramic dove. I broke its wing in half.
Where did the piece go?
Peering under the furniture, I lean down. As I search for it, something runs across the arm of the chair, right in front of my eyes.
I scream before I can stop myself.
Jack’s rapid footsteps sound from the roof. Grimacing, I look
at the ceiling, imagining him up there. Only a few moments pass before he runs up the deck and throws the door open.
To get here this quickly, he must have jumped half-way off the ladder.
Jack scans the cabin. “What wrong?”
“There’s a chipmunk in the house. At first, I thought it was a mouse.”
A grin stretches across his face and he tilts his head back, laughing. “I thought a bear had you.”
“And yet you didn’t stop for your gun.”
His eyes shine with humor. “I was going to take it on with my bare hands.”
“That’s very brave of you.”
He shrugs. “You do what you gotta do.”
I dropped the dove when I saw the chipmunk, and now it lays shattered on the floor.
I stoop to pick the pieces up. “So how do we get rid of the chipmunk?”
“We’ll have to buy some traps.”
“Absolutely not.” I juggle jagged ceramic shards in my hands. “You can’t just kill it.”
Jack rolls his eyes and follows me into the kitchen. “You can’t live with it—they’re not pets. They carry diseases.”
I dump the pieces in the trash under the sink. “Still.”
There must be a broom around here somewhere.
As I look for one, Jack follows me, arguing about why we must kill the cute and fuzzy woodland creature. I find a broom and dustpan next to the ancient washer and dryer.
“Well, diseases aside,” Jack says. “Imagine it running along your countertops, sharing your bed.”
I shudder, and Jack smiles, knowing he’s just won.
“Can we trap it alive?” I ask.
He takes the broom from me and sighs. “We’ll see what we can find.”
Jack sweeps up the ceramic shards, and thoughts of rodents are forgotten. It’s the perfect juxtaposition of male hotness and domestic proficiency. If this very scene were captured on video, many a broom would be bought by housewives across the country.
I hold out the wastebasket so he can dump the dustpan.
“You’re in the wrong profession,” I say.
“Oh, yeah?” He grins. When he steps forward, the sunlight glints off his dark hair. “You think I should be cleaning cabins?”
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