Hawk Valley Mountain Men Box Set

by Mazzy King

  She wrinkles her nose at me. “Ha-ha. I haven’t decided you’re not a serial killer.” She folds her arms. Shit. There goes that. “But…I am starving. And that does smell marvelous.”

  I chuckle. “I think the last time I heard that word was when my grandma said it. You don’t look like an eighty-year-old woman.” I cut a glance at her to make sure she knows I’m teasing.

  Her pretty, pouty pink lips smirk. “I’m thirty-two.”

  “Ah.” I nod, peeking into the oven to make sure the cornbread isn’t burning. “So saying things like ‘marvelous’ comes naturally?”

  She shrugs. “I’m a teacher. I teach literature. I should have a large vocabulary, don’t you think?”

  A teacher? Interesting. I wonder what she could teach me…or what I could teach her.

  Okay, I know I’m an asshole for that thought, but I can’t help it. All those curves. Those thin, tight leggings. It’s getting hard to breathe.

  “What grade do you teach?” I cover the stew with a lid and head to the fridge. “By the way, want a beer?”

  She hesitates.

  I hold up a bottle of Mr. Morris’s special stuff. “It’s damn good. Do yourself a favor.”

  “Well, just one,” she says with a good deal of suspicion.

  I pop off the top and hand her the bottle. “You can have as many or as little as you want.”

  Another tiny smirk pouts up those lips of hers. “Few,” she says softly, taking the bottle. When our fingers brush, cool from the glass, I suppress a shudder down my spine.

  “What?” I murmur. Phew? Like she’s relieved I offered her beer?

  “‘You can have as many or as few as you want,’” she says, clearing her throat.

  I blink several times. “Did you just…correct my grammar?”

  She takes a sip of beer and holds up a hand. “You don’t need to thank me.”

  “Oh, you’ve got jokes.” I chuckle and swig my own beer, returning to the stove to give the stew a stir. “And good grammar, apparently.”

  She smiles. “I teach fifth grade, to answer your question. At a public school in the city.”

  I nod slowly, the mention of the city dimming the glow in my chest. Get over it. “I noticed your address when I checked your ID. But not to come stalk you later,” I add, glancing at her over my shoulder.

  She rolls her eyes. “Sure. I’ll keep that in mind when I’m lying in bed with a frying pan on my nightstand.”

  “I’m sure you’ve got a man around who would do anything to keep you safe.” I return my gaze to the pot. Then something hits me. “Shit. You got someone waiting on you? My cell signal’s still knocked out, but maybe we could head down to the—”

  “No,” she says tersely. “There’s no one waiting on me.”

  The snap in her voice gets my attention. “Are…are you sure? It’s no troub—”

  “I said I don’t have anyone.”

  I lift my eyebrows and my hands. “All right. Sorry I overstepped. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Stephanie sighs, then turns away to scratch Sadie’s ear. “I’m sorry for raising my voice,” she murmurs to my dog. “He said you don’t like that.”

  Sadie whines a little, her brown eyes huge and staring up at Stephanie. She’s completely in love, I realize, a little pang of jealousy and wonder hitting my chest.

  “Stew’s ready,” I tell her, hoping to cut the tension. “Why don’t you have a seat at the table and I’ll bring you a bowl.”

  “Thanks,” she tells me softly, glancing my way, then heads to the round table in the small dining area beside the big picture window. Sadie follows on her heels.

  I spoon up two generous bowls of stew and top them with two equally large, square pieces of hot cornbread. Carefully, I balance the bowls with spoons stuck inside them in both hands and carry them out to the table. Thoughtfully, Stephanie has pulled a couple of napkins from the holder in the middle of the table and set them at each of our places. It’s a tiny thing, but it catches my heart anyway. Beth wouldn’t have bothered. She expected to be served. And it’s not like I have anything against serving and doting on a beautiful woman I care about—that’s the standard with me. But when you start to notice a lack of appreciation after a while, that makes you want to not fucking bother.

  I snap out of it and set Stephanie’s bowl in front of her. “I’d rather overfeed people than underfeed them,” I explain. “By all means, don’t feel obligated to finish all of that. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she asks, spooning up her first bite. She inhales deeply. “This is the best thing I’ve ever smelled.” She takes a bite and moans, then taps the butt of her spoon on the table for emphasis. “Oh my God. So good.”

  I beam with absurd pride, digging into my own bowl. “Thanks.”

  “Mmm,” she coos again after another bite.

  Her sex noises while eating make my cock hard, so I focus on my meal instead. And, well, not to brag or whatever, but it is pretty goddamn good. Thank you, Mrs. Morris.

  “A man who cooks this good,” Stephanie says, more to herself. “How has no woman snapped you up yet?”

  I splutter on my stew, then hack into my napkin. Stephanie looks up at me in alarm. I hold up my hand, struggling to get my shit together. With a sip of beer, I’m able to breathe again.

  “I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I—I assumed… Maybe I assumed too much. You do have a girlfriend.”

  I shake my head, clearing my throat.

  “A…wife?”

  I shake my head again.

  She reddens. “Oh—I guess I assumed way too much. A boyfriend, then?”

  This, plus the resignation in her voice, makes me roar with laughter, which brings on more coughing. I can’t help it.

  “Sorry, what’s so funny?” she asks, and now she sounds annoyed.

  “I’m not gay,” I rasp. “Just single.”

  “Oh.” Now she sounds relieved—and that intrigues me. “Then why did you freak out when I said that about a woman snapping you up?”

  I sigh, toying with my spoon. “It caught me off guard a little. I was engaged, actually. But we broke up a couple years ago. You’re the first woman who’s been in my home since, unless you count Mrs. Morris.”

  “Who’s Mrs. Morris?”

  “Woman from town. She’s kind of like a mom to me.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear about your fiancée,” Stephanie says, dragging her spoon through her stew.

  I shake my head, meeting her gaze across the table. “Don’t be. It was for the best. Truly. Besides, Sadie didn’t like her. And she didn’t like Sadie. How would I ever make that work?”

  Stephanie nods and her lips stretch into a polite smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “About…before. When you asked if I had someone waiting.”

  “Yes?” I set my spoon in my bowl and rest my hands on the table, watching her carefully.

  “I was in a relationship too. It ended about six months ago. He’s sort of the reason why I’m here.”

  Puzzled, I ask, “How’s that?”

  She casts her eyes down to the table. “He was always telling me about the ways in which I’m lacking—mentally, in the body department, emotionally. I’m not street-smart enough. I’m not practical. I’m not thin enough. I’m too sensitive. He really tore me down, but I never realized it—never admitted it to myself—until after we broke up. I was supposed to stay with a friend at her parents’ cabin this weekend, then she cancelled because her son got sick. I decided to come by myself anyway, even though I’ve never driven out here alone and I haven’t been to her parents’ cabin in years. I don’t remember where it is. But I wanted to prove to myself—prove to Brent—I was smart enough, brave enough to make it on my own.” She gives a little laugh that has little humor in it. “Instead I proved him right.”

  Instinctively, I drop my hand over hers. “Don’t do that,” I say, shaking my head. “Don’t be mean to yourself like that. Brent sound
s like a fucking loser to let go of someone like you. I just met you and apart from knowing you’re stunning because I have eyes, I can tell you’re a wonderful person.”

  Her brows crinkle in doubtful amusement. “Can you? How?”

  I smile softly, then incline my head at Sadie, where she lays with her head on Stephanie’s knee. “Because of Sadie. She loves you.”

  Stephanie blushes, gazing down at my dog. She sets a gentle hand on top of Sadie’s head and smooths her ears back. “She’s a good girl,” Stephanie says, then looks at me. “And…thank you. For everything—the sweet words. The delicious meal. Your bed. Saving my life.” She glances out the window and shudders. “I’d still be out there, helpless, probably freezing to death, if it weren’t for you. I’m sorry I called you a serial killer and tried to kill you with your grandfather’s lamp.”

  “And corrected my grammar,” I add gently.

  She tips her head back and laughs. The sound is a beautiful, sweet melody. Sadie wags in response. “That too. I can be an asshole like that, sorry. I think it’s funny. Very few people agree.”

  I chuckle. “You’re forgiven. With you around, I might stop sounding like some wild brute.”

  She smiles at me. This time her heart-shaped face is full of mirth and her eyes sparkle. “You’re a pretty sexy wild brute.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “I sure hope that’s not the bump on your head talking.”

  Stephanie blushes, looking out the window. “Brent always said I sucked at flirting.”

  “Not at all,” I say in a low voice, taking her hand again. “I just wanted to make sure I heard you correctly. The charms of a woman like you are bound to go over my wild, brutish head.”

  She giggles softly, then withdraws her hand from underneath mine and picks up her spoon. Without looking up at me, she says, “You forgot sexy.”

  I smile down into my stew. “I was trying to be modest. Besides—and I hope you’ll forgive my lack of manners—but between those leggings, that sweater, and the noises you make when you eat something good…you’re the living definition of sexy.” I bite my tongue to refrain from adding I’d like to eat her something good. Just the thought of her in my mouth causes my cock to stiffen to an almost painful level. I’ll bet this cabin and my store she’s sweet as fruit and just as juicy.

  Stephanie presses her fingers to her mouth. “I’ve been told I should lose weight.”

  I stop with my spoon halfway to my lips. “By fucking who?” It comes out angrier than I intended, but, shit. That’s bullshit. She’s walking perfection.

  She shrugs her brows, stirring her stew. “Take a wild guess.”

  I already know, of course, but I can’t help the rage that rushes through me. “He’s clearly a stupid son of a bitch. Had the most beautiful woman in the world and let her go? Stupid as fuck. Lucky for m—”

  Stephanie snaps her head up, eyes bright.

  “Some man who will cherish you,” I finish. Whoa. Where’s all this possessiveness coming from? I hardly know this woman.

  And yet…the pull I feel toward her beats strong in my heart. It’s undeniable.

  I want her.

  5

  Stephanie

  I don’t think I’ve ever blushed as much in my life as I have during one meal with Asher Hillsong. His compliments have been outrageous, but they echo sincerity. He’s not bullshitting me when he says I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. I know in the bottom of my soul he believes what he’s saying.

  I’ve never been complimented like this before. It’s scary and wonderful and makes me feel a little uncomfortable.

  Like I don’t deserve it.

  Fuck that.

  I gaze at Asher across the table. If he thinks I’m the most beautiful woman in the world, he’s a shoo-in for sexiest man alive, and damn what People magazine has to say about it. His blue eyes are dark but clear and piercing, and even under his scruff of beard, I can see his jaw clench as he tenses it.

  Suddenly, it feels like the temperature has shot up to a hundred degrees in this cabin.

  Asher slowly rises from the table and stands at my side. “Finished?” His voice is brushed velvet, and it makes me want to shudder. I nod. He takes my bowl and carries it to the kitchen. When he returns, he heads to the fireplace against the back wall of the cabin and throws some logs on, then strikes a match. It’s a real fireplace, not an electrical one, and when the cheery blaze is going strong, he turns off the lights, gesturing out the window.

  “I like to sit by the fire with the lights off when it snows,” he says. “There’s something hypnotizing about watching the snow fall, and I often lose myself in my thoughts.”

  I want to lose myself in you.

  I press my thighs together at the rush of tingles that erupt between them.

  He sits on the sofa that faces the big picture window, then glances over at me. “You’re welcome to join me.”

  I smirk, rising from the chair. “Is this the part where you tell me you won’t bite?”

  He mirrors my smirk. “Only if that’s what you want to hear.”

  “Hmm.” I fold my arms as I cross the room to the sofa, then sit a safe distance from him. Two cushions between us. “Are you in the habit of telling women what you think they want to hear?”

  Asher glances away. “No. I much prefer the truth. But that hasn’t gotten me very far, and it sure as shit hasn’t done me any favors.”

  I scoot one cushion closer. “It got you away from a toxic person, didn’t it? Just like it did in my case.”

  He sighs, studying me out of the corners of his eyes, tilting his temple against one finger. “He didn’t deserve you, you know. I hope to God you know that. And maybe I don’t have the right to say that to you, since we just met. But fuck that. Honesty.”

  I smile. “I appreciate that more than you know. You’re right. He didn’t deserve me. And it sounds like she didn’t deserve you, either.”

  He heaves another sigh, and at the sound, Sadie comes padding over to rest her head on his knee. Pure adoration glows in her big browns as she gazes up at him, and he rubs her ear lovingly in return. It’s a sweet, silent moment full of love that actually makes my eyes burn a little. Their bond transcends words.

  “We were together for a few years,” he says in a low voice, lifting his eyes from Sadie’s to the snow as it practically pours from the sky. “Met in undergrad. She was a city girl, I’ve always been a small-town boy, a mountain man, at heart.” He lifts his shoulders. “My grandfather left me the hardware store. I thought I could have a nice little life, make her my wife, have a couple of kids, run the store. She told me she wanted the same things. If she’d ever said otherwise, I would’ve never pressured her to move here.”

  He sounds sad, but not in a way that makes me think he misses her. He sounds sad about the entre situation, that either one of them had gone through what they had.

  “Did you ever think about moving to the city?” I ask.

  “Sure. I would’ve gone, found a good halfway point between these two places. I’d drive an hour to run the shop each day if it meant I could be near the mountains, make sure his cabin and his store were taken care of. I’m not an unreasonable man. I believe in some instances you can have your cake and eat it too. But I have to know the truth—there’s that honesty thing again.” He shakes his head. “She wasn’t honest. And then the lies snowballed until I found out the hard way she’d been seeing someone else for a while before we officially called it quits.”

  I nod slowly. “Sounds like our relationships ended in similar ways.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says softly.

  “Me too.”

  “You miss him?”

  “Hell no,” I say with quiet vehemence. “Do you miss her?”

  “Hell no,” he says, and we laugh. After a moment he adds, “There are things I miss about being in a relationship that have nothing to do with her, though.”

  “Like what?” I scooch one cushion closer until we’re sit
ting on side-by-side cushions.

  He angles his body toward me but leans back into the corner of the couch. “I miss taking care of someone. Cooking for a woman after a long day. Rubbing her shoulders. Little things like changing the light bulb in her reading lamp before she asks. Bringing her a cup of coffee in bed every morning. Watching movies and holding her close. Killing spiders, even.”

  I shiver a little. Do men actually treat women like this? “You shouldn’t kill spiders,” is what my brain makes me say. “They’re very important for the ecosystem. You should take them outside.”

  He grins at me. “Goddamn, you’re adorable. All right. I’ll take them outside.”

  I clear my throat, embarrassed. “So all the things you miss about relationships is doing things for your lady? No selfish needs at all, huh?”

  He gives me a slow, wicked smile. It’s the only thing on him that moves, besides his eyes, which travel down my body. “No. I have selfish needs. I am a man, after all.” He leans toward me. “I haven’t been with anyone since Beth left. I shut myself off from the world. And then when I came back to the world again, I just wanted to be alone. I had nothing left to give any woman.” He eyes me. “I’m starting to reconsider that.”

  I hold my breath. What’s happening? How am I actually having a conversation like this with a stranger?

  But Asher doesn’t feel like a stranger. It feels like I’ve known him for years. He makes me feel comfortable. He seems to care about what I have to say. A little thing, but a thing I haven’t had in so long.

  Another thing I haven’t had in so long?

  I let my own eyes wander down Asher’s handsome face, pausing on his lips, and down his body. He wears a heavy red flannel shirt rolled to the elbows and jeans, but it’s clear he’s built under those mountain man clothes. And I want to see everything underneath them.

  I haven’t had sex in over six months. I shut Brent out before we broke up officially. The sex between us was not what I’d call good. It wasn’t even a means to an end—my end, that is. Brent never treated me with any tenderness, any interest in bringing me pleasure. If it wasn’t for my own nimble fingers, I probably would’ve lost my shit long ago. But…I was so brainwashed by my “love” for him that I just needed to hold on, I told myself. He’d come around.