by Brynn Hale
KAEDE
Diamond Ridge Mountain Men- 2
Brynn Hale
Copyright © 2019 by Brynn Hale
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contact Brynn at [email protected] for more information.
Acknowledgment
Thank you to authors Tarin Lex, Mazzy King, Kali Hart, Kate Tilney, and Lana Dash (and more :-)) for making this story and this adventure amazing and inspiring. <3 Brynn
Contents
Willow
Kaede
Willow
Willow
Willow
Willow
Kaede
Kaede
Epilogue
About the Author
Willow
“Oh yeah, well you’re a jerk! And you know what else? It’s the Goo Goo Dolls, not the Google Dolls! You eat hot dogs, boxed mac and cheese, and chicken wings weekly! You’re not a foodie! Stop wearing that beanie, you look like you should be on a fishing boat off the coast of Washington state! And… and…” I gasp for air as the interior of my car seems to close in. But back in reality, there’s no one else in here. Just me.
If only I’d said those things to Rod when he dumped me two months ago. I’m not running them through my head because I still love him. I don’t. Actually, I’m not sure I ever really did. I feel like I didn’t get…closure…or revenge. There’s a fine line.
I just stood there with my mouth open, but I don’t think I wanted to disagree with him. I wanted to stand up for me. Not us. We weren’t right.
But he made it clear that I wasn’t right for him. Fat. Needy. Easily appeased. The words still dig into me.
So I might have a little extra around my waist. And I do enjoy attention from the person I believe loves me. But I am not easily satisfied and he of all people should know that, considering I never let him satisfy me.
Deep down I knew something wasn’t right back then, but how couldn’t I see it? It was so wrong there wasn’t much right. Would I know right when it was right?
Google Dolls—who says that with a straight face? I shake my head and roll my eyes.
My GPS speaks and I refocus. The sun is setting quickly and although I kind of know the area, I also know that one bad turn and you’re not in the United States anymore when it comes to Montana.
The voice demands that I turn right. Thankfully, I know this road. I pass by the lane that leads to my best friend Daisy and her hubby Boone’s property. They’re the reason I’m out here. They’ve set me up in their friend’s cabin for the Christmas weekend as a gift. Their place is only one big open room, so I can’t even imagine staying with them, especially with their newest addition arriving about two weeks ago—Maverick Larimore. I sigh. Babies. I’ll get to see the little cutie tomorrow and it makes me so happy to know Daisy has her dream guy and is so crazy in love.
And maybe I’m just a little jealous.
I take a left as the GPS instructs and drive the four miles to a dot on the map, deep in the woods of the Diamond Mountains. As far as I know these mountains aren’t rich in the actual treasured gemstone, but I haven’t thought to look it up. As a website designer I live on the web. It’s basically my second home. But I’ll be without internet this weekend. A break from checking emails, Facebook, things that really don’t mean much to me. Just the way I want it.
The cabin comes into view and I inhale sharply. It looks like those Lincoln Logs my brother used to play with have been stacked, seamlessly and ornately. It’s not overly big, but it’s definitely bigger than I expected from Daisy’s description. It’s picture-perfect with the pine trees sprouting up like exclamation marks around it. And the wraparound front porch will be the place for watching the sunrise in the morning with a glass of French-pressed coffee steaming in the cold mountain air.
Maybe this dude will be going away in the spring or summer…
I glance at the GPS and it’s directing me to drive behind the house. Stupid GPS. The dot’s right here.
I close the app and sit with a crazy wide smile on my face. I’ve never been this excited for a few days of downtime. I work fifty or more hours a week, and I need to reset, to reexamine what I really want in both love and life.
Tiny flakes flutter like fireflies through the crisp mountain air as I climb out of the car. “Typical Montana.”
I’ve checked the forecast and what’s on the way won’t be bad until later next week. I’ll be back in Helena and sitting in front of my gas fireplace enjoying a hot cup of cocoa before it gets nasty again.
I open the trunk and giggle to myself. Daisy would totally laugh at the size of my suitcase. For a four-night stay I’ve got enough clothing for probably a week.
More.
And at last count, twelve pair of shoes. I’ve got to have options for all the neurotic tendencies of the Montana weather. Of course that’s something Rod always claimed was ridiculous.
He was ridiculous.
I shake my head. I’m done thinking about him. He was wrong. And not that I’m looking for Mr. Right, but maybe Mr. Right-Now wouldn’t be a bad thing. I shake my head. I’m not going to give my virginity to just anyone. The last guy taught me that you don’t always know someone. Even after two years of being friends first, I didn’t know Rod.
You said you were done talking about him.
“I know!” I scream at the voices in my head. There aren’t a lot of them, but the ones that speak, speak loudly.
I struggle to pull my wheeled suitcase behind me. Finally, I’m at the front door. I turn in a circle looking around for the key. It was supposed to be under a flowerpot on the porch.
“Daisy, there isn’t a flowerpot.”
I leave my suitcase and walk around the south side. Maybe she meant the back door. The large glass windows allow me to have a peek inside.
Ugh.
Daisy had prepared me. “Wyatt will change the sheets on the bed, but he’s a little messy,” she said.
Little?
What I see can be described as very, Daisy. Wyatt’s place has dust on everything I can see from here. I glance back at my car. I know it’s crazy, but as soon as she warned me, I decided to bring along a few cleaning supplies. Daisy isn’t a clean freak, like I am. When I go to hotels, I clean the bathroom before using it. That’s why I always carry baby wipes. Everywhere.
Plus, I like the smell.
But she also knows that I actually enjoy cleaning, so if this ends up with this dude making an effort to be a little more organized and tidier, my efforts won’t be for nothing. And if it doesn’t, I’ll still enjoy my time with a frosted cranberry candle and sparkling clean toilet.
The back door is bare of any embellishment and not a flowerpot to be found.
I walk to the car. I flip on the dome light to see as the sun is almost gone for the day. I grab the shopping bags and collect an item that fell on the floor. Two bags, one with the cleaning supplies and one with food. I have to have my favorites—mac and cheese, those red and green M&Ms, some seasonal flavored coffee, and a few other ingredients for quick and easy meals. This is my weekend not to think about diets, carbs and sugars, numbers on a scale, or how my leggings fit. If they emphasize every roll, I don’t care.
Daisy, Boone, and Maverick certainly won’t care. The animals in the woods don’t care.
“I don’t fucking care!” I scream into the night and an owl hoots in response.
I stare at the front door like it will magically open. How to get in since the owner didn’t leave the key like Daisy said he would? I examine the windows… way too big
to break. I consider the oval glass insert on the door. I could break it. Maybe I could break the door down and then claim it wasn’t my fault he didn’t leave a key.
I grab the knob, turn… and it opens.
Well, I certainly used more brain cells than needed to do that.
I flip on a light and I realize this place isn’t unrecoverable. It’s got a lot of great bells and whistles. Like the kitchen. I know who did this woodwork. Boone. It’s got all the same beautiful hand-carved wood lines as their cabinets. And granite counter tops that will be perfect for baking a pie to take for Christmas dinner.
This place is much more compartmentalized than Boone and Daisy’s cabin. It’s actually got doors on bedrooms. I like that.
I open the door. The bedroom’s the cleanest room in the place. I bounce on the bed. Reminds me a lot of my bed. Just right.
There’s a picture on the nightstand. I get closer. That’s weird. It’s a photo of people in military uniforms, and I recognize one of the guys. I don’t remember the guy’s name being Wyatt, but maybe that’s what Boone calls him. They all have nicknames and bro-names for each other. I shake off the thoughts to start my weekend.
I hang up my clothes and put my collection of bath supplies in the definitely remodeled bathroom. Local granite covers almost every surface and as cold as I thought it could be, I feel warm inside. Still needs to be cleaned, but I’ll get there.
This is what I need. Simplicity. I’m always going, going, going and I’m tired of being tired. I’m going to sleep in and not feel bad about it.
My phone buzzes.
Daisy: Did you make it?
Willow: I did. It’s definitely NOT clean.
Daisy: Hey, he works long hours and he’s a bachelor. Give him a break.
Willow: Donning my gloves to get dirty. Or actually to get clean.
Daisy: I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. Biscuits and gravy in the morning?
Willow: Hell, yes!
Daisy: Let’s plan on brunch, around 11am, so you can sleep in. And I can clean before you come over.
She gets me. I laugh and shake my head on the cleaning.
Willow: Don’t clean. Your home is lovely and you have better things to be doing with your time. Like snuggling with Maverick. Can’t wait to get me some baby smells.
Daisy: You need to find a man, my friend.
Willow: Nope. I’m done looking. He’ll have to find me.
I’m only twenty-four. There’s still time. No rushing.
Daisy: He will. Have a great night and see you in the morning.
Willow: Night. Hugs to Mav.
Daisy: Will do. <3
I turn off my phone. I’m not sure where my charging cord is in my bag, but I also said I wouldn’t worry about it. I know where Daisy lives, and I know how to get there.
I start cleaning. In two and a half hours, I have the place spotless. I stand back and look at what I’ve accomplished.
And how freaking tired I am.
I, technically, didn’t touch anything that was this guy’s. I maybe moved a couple of things to the back of the countertop and rearranged a few spices. Who doesn’t alphabetize their seasonings?
His desk is covered with pieces of leather and opaque plastic bins are packed to the ceiling on the left side of the desk in the corner. I didn’t open any of them. He could have human body parts in there as far as I’m concerned and as long as I get some rest and relaxation, I don’t care.
I take a long hot shower. The rain shower head washes away all the tension. I grab for my shampoo, but my hand lands on his. I decide to use it. If I can’t sleep with a man, I might as well smell like I have. It’s deep, earthy and woodsy. My uterus tremors in endorsement of the manly scent. I finish up and blow dry my hair before I put on my night gown.
I collapse on the overstuffed couch, but I know if I don’t head to the bed, I’ll be sleeping here all night long. I don’t need a crick in my neck in the morning. I want to feel refreshed. I turn off all the lights, locking the front door.
Flicking down the sheets, I make sure they get a little warm air. I swear they smell like the cologne version of the body wash I used, stronger and more concentrated. It could be just the scent that’s infused into my hair. But I want to believe it’s a nice touch left by the owner to remind me that a guy lives here.
My head hits the pillow, and I’m fading when my eyes pop open. I swear I hear the front door unlock.
I’ve never been in the wilderness on my own before. I’m sure it’s my mind playing with me, but I flip over to face the door.
Then I hear them. Footsteps. Big. Heavy footsteps.
I try to calculate whether I have time to run to the bedroom door and lock it. But there’s no time. The bedroom door swings open, and light floods the room.
“Who cleaned my house? And who the fuck’s sleeping in my bed?”
Kaede
I swear I’m seeing a forest pixie in the flesh. Her screaming is about as colorful as she is, with her spikey pink hair, tanned skin, a colorful tattoo over her shoulder and down her arm. She’s off the bed, pulling the quilt I bought from the swap meet last year to her chest.
“Just get out! I’ll… I’ll call the police.” She grabs her phone from the nightstand and waves it at me like I’ll be petrified at the sight.
If she’s five feet tall, I’d be surprised. And if her round flushed cheeks are any indication of how she looks under that blanket, she’s got curves for days.
I cross my arms. “This is my cabin and I don’t allow anyone in it. So you get out.”
“No. Boone and Daisy said that I could stay here.”
I still. “You know Boone and Daisy?”
She stops adjusting the blanket to cover ninety percent of her body.
My imagination can fill in all hundred percent, honey.
“Yes.” Her big blue eyes narrow in on my face and I feel like I’m being judged or assessed in some way. Like I’m not being truthful. And I don’t like it. I might be out of the military, but I still stand by the warrior ethos and core values that my Marine family and I took. Honor, courage, and commitment. A Marine is a Marine for life.
The woman tips her head and her voice softens. She looks at the bedside photo of me and my military buddies. “It’s you.” She turns back, those pink strands like fireworks from her head. “I remember you. You were at their wedding.”
I flip on the light switch as six months ago rushes back to me. “You were the bridesmaid who stepped on my feet a hundred times during the wedding party dance.”
“I did not.” The blanket drops, and I try to make no indication of what the vision is actually doing to me. I attempt with ineffectiveness to keep my eyes north of her collar bones, but the enemy is upon me.
And she’s wearing a fucking furry, pink teddy. And there is nothing left to my imagination, except if she’d be mad if I tore it off. Her breasts are pushed up and I feel like they are in my face. The white fuzz that outlines the dress swings side to side as she scurries across the room.
“You take that back. I had sixteen years of dance training.”
She’s only an arm’s length away, and I’m fighting every instinct inside of me to grab her and claim that sassy mouth of hers.
Her finger comes out of nowhere and she pokes me in the chest. “I am as light as a feather on my feet.”
“Don’t touch me.” I growl the words with a deep rumble.
“What?” She backs up a step, eyes wide.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.” As much as I want to touch her, I don’t like being touched without my permission. There are so many fragments of war that still worm their way into my head at unexpected times.
She backs up another step, and now I’m cursing myself for putting the distance between us.
“But Daisy and Boone said I could borrow Wyatt’s cabin.” She races around the bed and grabs the blanket again.
“Honey, that’s what I’m telling you. This isn’t Wyatt’s cabin.” I lean against the
doorframe. “Wyatt Chaston’s place is on the other side of the creek.”
She looks confused for a second, but soon she’s cringing. “Oh! That’s why the GPS wanted me to drive around the cabin.” The woman winces. “And that’s why there was no key under a flowerpot.”
I’m both relieved and a little upset that she’s catching on so quickly. Some part of me is starting to enjoy having her in my bedroom. She could be a little Christmas present brought to me by the man in the red suit. I’ve never received those kinds of presents before, so I won’t bet my Purple Heart on it.
I cross my arms. “Exactly. So, you’ll need to get going now. It’ll probably take you about forty minutes to get to Wyatt’s place. And there’s no driving behind my cabin. Unless you want to end up in the creek. So don’t even try it.”
“Oh, okay.” She goes to the closet. She glances back over her shoulder. “Do you really think I’m going to let you watch me get dressed?”
“It’s my bedroom.”
Her head tilts and she drops the blanket. “Out!”
I cringe at the volume. “Please don’t yell.” My heart races in my chest, taking me back to days I don’t want to remember. The screams never ended. But out here, in the woods, the silence calms me.
My eyes are clenched closed, but I feel the hand on my chest and as much as I want to tell her not to touch me, I realize I crave the moment. I put my hand on top of hers and when I open my eyes, she’s looking up at me, with those denim blue, sympathetic eyes.
“It’s okay. I won’t yell again.” The whisper brings me back to the present almost instantly and I’m stunned. Nothing. Nothing has ever done that. It’s mainly why I live out here and work out of my cabin.
“What’s your name?” I ask, gripping her hand tighter.
“Does it matter? I’m leaving.”
My gut is saying she should go, but my pounding heart says she should stay.