by Anya Summers
“Sir, it’s Billie.”
He glanced over at the registration clerk and she waved at him with a smile. He shut the call off and walked over. Billie was their front-end manager and had been for going on five years. Cole had no idea what they would do without her. The petite blonde was a submissive member of Cuffs & Spurs, but she ran the registration desk and performed all the requisite duties inherent to the position, with the skills of a general set to launch an invasion.
“What can I do for you this evening, Billie?”
She gave him one of her everything’s wonderful, but… smiles that he knew she typically reserved for problem guests. “Well, our guest in cabin D just called. Apparently, the cabin lost power and I haven’t been able to get hold of your brother in order to get it fixed.”
Probably because once Mason and Emily made it back to the house, they were usually occupied with each other in the bedroom. Which left him to go deal with the maintenance issue when he could really use a beer.
Resigned that he had one more thing to handle this evening before he could venture home, he said, “I’ll go take care of it. Anything else?”
Not that he really wanted to know or wanted to have to take care of something more. He and Mason really needed to discuss bringing in a third partner to handle all the night shift issues.
“Nope, my relief should be here shortly. But I will hang around until I know that this matter is taken care of first,” she replied.
“Have I told you lately that you’re the best damn front-end manager?” Cole said.
“Not today. But I’m glad you think so, especially since I plan to ask for a raise at my next review,” Billie said with a quick wink and grin in his direction.
“Ha, well, you’re worth it. I’ll say something to Mason.”
“Appreciate it, boss,” she said and then moved into action when the phone rang. He nodded at her and strode past the desk, then went to the maintenance closet and grabbed one of the toolboxes.
He had more tools in his truck if need be, as well. He went out the back where he’d parked his truck and drove to the cabin. That way, he could head on back to the house once cabin D had been put back to rights, and hopefully not encounter his brother and Emily mid-coitus.
When he reached the cabin, he sighed, recognizing the vehicle. It was the city girl who had almost taken him and Oreo out earlier today. Damn stallion had nipped his shoulder after that to express how pissed he was at nearly being flattened by the luxury vehicle. With a shake of his head, he climbed the stairs to the cabin’s front porch and knocked on the door.
“Maintenance,” he said, loudly.
He heard a feminine squeak, followed by hands fumbling at the door before it was wrenched open. Earlier today, Cole had been more concerned with the safety of his horse than the damn fool city driver not looking where she was going. But the wide-eyed female holding her cell phone up as a flashlight made him reassess.
“You? Why are you here?” she said, glancing around. “Is this a joke? I called for maintenance.”
“And you’re looking at it. Do you want to have power tonight, Miss Evans, or would you like me to come back at another time?” he murmured, raising a brow.
Her brows scrunched together as she studied him and then said, “Fine. Come in.”
“Much obliged.” He stepped inside. Cole strode past her, pulling his own flashlight from his pocket.
“Can I ask what it was you were doing when the power when out?”
“I just turned my computer on over there on the desk,” she replied.
He swung the high beam over to the corner. “Yep, I see the problem. Likely overloaded the system with all those gadgets. Probably blew a fuse. I’ll go check the box and be out of your hair.”
The fuse box was in the hall closet in this unit, where the washer and dryer were located. Sure enough, when he looked inside, two of the fuses were blown, and one of the breakers. Cole replaced them and got the lights and power working again. They’d upgraded most of the cabins, including this one, but they had been built for people to disconnect from their plugged-in life. And most of their guests did just that. Now, they’d been upgrading because of that very same technology, but it still didn’t take much to overload the system.
He scratched a hand over his short stubble beard. He and Mason needed to look at maybe hiring the same contractors he’d employed to build his house, to add some extra electrical to all the cabins. More than he and Mason were capable of doing. But that was a worry for another day. For now, he had a city girl to placate.
“It was just as I thought, overloaded the circuits is all, Miss Evans,” he said as he entered the living room.
“I see,” she replied, glancing at the desk and ignoring him. It gave him a moment to study their newest guest.
She was an itty-bitty thing, in a huge, bulky sweatshirt that hid more than it revealed. But her legs were toned and lithe in her black pants that hugged her limbs, only to end in the ugliest pair of boots he’d ever seen. Her hair was piled on top of her head, a dark burnished chestnut copper that made her milky skin appear almost translucent.
She unplugged a laptop and a small tablet, leaving her main computer still plugged in before she pressed the power button on and the screen flickered to life. Cole almost smiled at her audible sigh of relief.
Then he asked, “What do you need all this stuff for, anyway?”
Miss Evans finally glanced at him and he was nearly swallowed up by her big, luminous teal eyes that dominated her face. She was beautiful, with full, pale pink lips and a straight pert nose. But it was her eyes that were the real kicker. They were haunted. There were dark circles beneath them, like pale dark smudges an artist carelessly used to tarnish his creation.
But it just made her seem wounded. And made him regret how terse he’d been with her earlier.
She shrugged. “Because my job requires it.”
“Doesn’t sound like much fun to me. You should build a fire. It will help with the chill in the air,” he said with a nod toward the fireplace. He was surprised she hadn’t already lit one; what with her tiny bird bones, the extra warmth would serve her well.
A rosy flush crept up her elegant neck and she said, “That’s great and all, but how? Without burning the place down.”
Cole refrained from shaking his head at her. She was a city girl through and through. “You’ve never started a fire in a fireplace before?”
“No. I’ve never lived in a place that had one,” she explained. There was an air of fragility and uncertainty around her. Maybe it was because most of the visitors to the lodge knew what they were about, but Cole couldn’t ever recall a guest making him want to protect them. Whereas this one was clearly out of her element. Anxiety rippled off her body in waves.
Cole strode to the fireplace and knelt down. He waved her over, trying to ignore that the Dom in him was rattling his cage, almost sniffing a female in need of a protector. “First, remove the front grate. In all the cabins, we have these long lighters to make it easy for guests. You’ll want to grab some of the kindling we have set aside in the metal box over here. Put it on the grate and arrange it almost into a teepee of sorts. Now, you might need to break up some of the kindling to form the conical shape.”
She knelt beside him and the scent of peaches tickled his senses. He handed her a few pieces of kindling. “Break those up a bit.”
She snapped a few of the pieces. He noticed how delicate and small her hands were, the nails perfectly formed and painted a pale pink. When she struggled with one of the thicker pieces, he put his hands over hers and was shocked at the jolt of electricity that shot through him at the innocuous touch. She stilled and looked up at him. Her sea green goddess eyes were solemn. There were flecks of gold smattered in their teal depths and Cole felt himself drawn into her gaze.
Releasing her hands at the unbidden stirring of lust as his dick twitched, he cleared his throat and said, “Some of the kindling pieces, the thicker ones, if you
can’t break them into smaller bits, then use them for the top part of the teepee, like this.”
He removed the piece from her hands and angled the small piece of wood on the grate over the smaller pieces already in place. He could have broken it, no problem, but he wouldn’t be the one building a fire here. He made a note that he would have to keep an eye on her. Merely to make sure she didn’t burn the cabin to the ground.
“See what we did here?” Cole asked.
“Yep. Make the teepee. Got it. What’s next?” she said.
“Okay, then you will want to put the logs on top. The best way to do that is lay them crosswise, like this, so that they don’t go rolling off the grate. I typically start with two crosswise and then put a third smaller log with a flat edge over the top. It keeps them in place a bit. Understand?”
She nodded, studying the logs as if she had discovered a new species.
“Okay, then take some of the newspaper we have stocked in the bin and shred it into small strips. You don’t need much, just enough to set beneath the grate and light so that the kindling will catch fire.” Cole demonstrated and put two good-sized handfuls of the shredded newspaper beneath the grate. Then he handed her the lighter. “Now, light the newspaper.”
She took it from his hand. Her grip tight, she leaned forward slightly, put the long neck of the lighter against the newspaper, and clicked it.
Flame leapt and caught on the newspaper. It flared bright, casting a golden glow over her milky, perfect skin. It made her appear even more hauntingly beautiful, if that were even possible. At the satisfied glimmer in her gaze and small smile tugging at her voluptuous lips, Cole had a startling image flash in his mind of his guest, her head tipped back, mouth parted around a breathy moan. Her body was bathed in the golden glow from the fireplace as he held her wrists and feasted on her creamy flesh.
Damn, he must be tired if the city girl was inciting his lust. She was a far cry from the submissives he bedded at the club.
He slid the screen back into place and then stood. He should have helped her up from her kneeling position first, was all he could think as he stared down at her upturned face. She was on her knees, her delicate hands folded in her lap, face tilted up toward his and her luminescent gaze, those huge, green orbs stared at him, the earlier suspicion gone and trust now shimmering in her eyes.
Cole sucked in a breath like Oreo had kicked him in the solar plexus. Before he did something—like instruct her to disrobe and then open her mouth to receive him—he held out his hand and assisted her back to her feet.
“I’ll bring in some more firewood for you,” he said and retreated. He strode outside and inhaled the frosty air, hoping to extinguish the sudden burning desire Miss Evans evoked in him.
Cole carted in two armloads of firewood and a third of extra kindling before he deemed that she was sufficiently stocked.
“I think you are all set for the night, Miss Evans. When you go to bed, just close the glass doors here and that will smother some of the fire enough while you sleep. Is there anything else I can help you with this evening?”
“Um, no. Thank you. Please call me Mia. I appreciate your assistance, um, I’m sorry… I don’t even know your name,” she said with a prim, flustered edge to her voice.
“It’s Cole, Miss Evans. You have a nice night now,” he said, tipping his hat in her direction and picking up his toolbox. And then he strode back out the front door, shutting it behind him. He waited until he heard the click of the lock before heading down the stairs to his truck.
With a last glance at the illuminated windows in the cabin, Cole left the wounded and far too delicate Mia, awash with a staggering need—for her. He drove down the back trails that led to the house and scraped a hand over his face. Maybe he was more tired than he realized and needed a week off up at his cabin. This wasn’t him, lusting after a guest, not to mention a guest who had innocence and inexperience written all over her porcelain features. Cole preferred subs who knew the rules, who took instruction without question, who didn’t ask for anything more than he was willing to give—which were a few good orgasms and subspace, but nothing more.
But that one, with her wounded gaze and delicate touch, aroused a protective, possessive instinct he hadn’t felt for more than a decade. Not since he’d buried his heart and soul in the cold, frigid ground.
The best course of action was to stay as far away from cabin D and Mia Evans as possible.
Chapter 4
Mia slept for nearly fourteen solid hours. She slept so deeply, she barely moved from the position she’d fallen asleep in late last night. It shouldn’t be surprising. After sexy surly cowboy Cole had left her cabin last night, Mia had done something she hadn’t allowed herself to do in ages. She had proceeded to drink her way through a bottle and a half of wine.
After he’d gone, she’d been struck dumb at the sheer animal magnetism humming in her system. Mia didn’t get hot under the collar where men were concerned. Even her ex had never inspired heights of pulse-pounding need. But Cole, when he’d put his imposing, broad-shouldered frame so close… the heat of him, and his woodsy scent, had enveloped her. Just the light contact of his hands over hers, she’d felt cleanly down to the soles of her Uggs.
Up close, sexy surly cowboy was drop dead handsome. Unapologetically masculine. She’d been fascinated by the way his generous lips moved and formed words. By his broad forehead and nose. By the way his soot-colored eyes were framed by some of the longest, inky lashes she’d ever seen. By the way his close-cropped, black beard framed a pair of infinitely kissable lips. She’d imagined herself sucking on that full bottom lip and the direction of her thoughts had veered as she wondered how those lips would feel on her mouth, on her skin, and even on her sex. Her fingers had itched to brush through his shoulder-length hair that was such a deep, rich sable that it was nearly black.
It wasn’t any wonder that, after he’d left her cabin, with unforeseen desire churning in her system, Mia had downed wine like a lifeline at the unfamiliar ache. Her body had throbbed with sexual yearning. She’d made full use of the big tub and indulged in a hot bubble bath with a glass of wine. And if she had masturbated to a fantasy of those lips moving over her body, she would never tell.
Other than the fact that her head felt stuffy and out of sorts, she had to admit she was more rested and at ease than she had been in a long time. Mia couldn’t remember feeling this relaxed. It made her want to burrow beneath the covers and stay there. After the months of strain and self-doubt, being plagued by the glowing white screen on her computer, thanks to just this small measure, the unfurling of the tightness in her chest, she felt like she was able to breathe again.
The only thing that made her crawl out of bed was the responsibility hanging over her head. She had to finish the book, so she grudgingly slipped out from beneath the covers. The cabin was chilly and she was glad she had socks covering her feet on the cool wood beneath them.
Mia ambled into the kitchen, yawning, and made herself breakfast while the coffee pot brewed. She was troubled by the structure of her book. That was part of where the block was coming from.
The first book, Following The Westward Train, depicted the lives of a fictional family, the Campbells, as they ran a mercantile style store in the tent towns that sprung up as the Transcontinental Railroad was constructed between 1863 and 1869. The story detailed the unmitigated hardships the family faced, the terror of living through Indian attacks, the danger of how easy it was to fall ill and die. The story had ended with the couple’s youngest son passing from a fever and the couple deciding to build their home in one of the towns that sprang to life along the completed tracks.
In the second book, Beyond Civilization, the story of the Campbells continued, this time with the original couple’s three children who survived to adulthood. That alone was a feat that was worthy of acknowledgement back then. It detailed the challenges they faced living on the edges of civilization, their interaction with the local tribes, and the
choices each sibling made. How the daughter, Mary, had decided to head back east to attend finishing school but on her journey back east, the train came under attack by bandits. She escaped and would have died if not for the Sioux brave who found her by the river. Mary never made it back east but ended up becoming Walking Crow’s wife and the mother of his children.
In what was to be the third and final book in her series about the Campbell family, Imminent Domain, one of the Campbells’ grandchildren joined the United States Marshalls to help keep peace in the Wild West.
But she had been struggling with it. Maybe she just needed to rethink the whole thing but it was halfway finished already. And the thought of re-working it, coming at it from a different perspective, just made her tired.
Mia lingered over her breakfast, delaying the inevitable. She had to plunk herself in front of the computer.
But she did it, albeit grudgingly. She knew the history of the time. It had been a tumultuous period in the United States, with robber barons and monopolies dominating business. There had been range wars with cattle ranchers. The United States Army had relocated and relegated Native Americans to the despicable living conditions on reservations, wrenching them from their sacred lands. The stage for the First World War was being set like chess pieces on a board in Europe.
But she had a hard time connecting with her character, Duncan Campbell, as he rode with the Marshalls.
She tinkered with her computer, admitting—at least to herself—that she’d been having a hard time with the book ever since her relationship with Joe had fallen apart. When his lies had been exposed, revealing him for what he truly was, a snake in the grass, she had spiraled.
Mia didn’t have a whole lot of experience with men, and dating in particular. She’d been shy growing up, more comfortable reading and immersing herself in her studies than thinking about boys. Not to mention, she had severe abandonment issues.
When she was five, her parents had left her with a babysitter while they went to attend some function at her dad’s job. He’d been the curator at the Adler Planetarium. They left that night and never came home. One minute her parents had been there and the next, there had been policemen taking her away from her home. They’d been kind to the frightened five-year-old, who didn’t understand why her mom and dad weren’t there and weren’t ever coming home again, until her Aunt Alice arrived at the police station and told Mia she was going to live with her now.
