by Marin Black
Table of Contents
Snowed In with a Mountain Man
Publication Information
Dedication
Praise for Author
Snowed In with a Mountain Man
About the Author
Also Available
Also Available
Thank You
Snowed In with a Mountain Man
Smoky Mountains Love
Book Three
by
Marin Black
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Snowed In with a Mountain Man
COPYRIGHT © 2020 by Marin Black
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by RJ Morris
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Scarlet Rose Edition, 2020
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-3202-4
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To those who have survived the maddening quiet of a snowed-in day and acted on a whim.
PRAISE FOR AUTHOR
Marin Black
“The author did an amazing job setting the scene…readers looking for a sensual and steamy read should find this definitely fits the bill. Relatable and sexy, this short story is a great, quick read. A fun and sexy read.”
~Long and Short Reviews
Snowed In with a Mountain Man
The electricity in my family’s cabin was out. That was a problem. Because I was snowed in and alone. In bear country.
Not that I was scared.
Okay, I was a little scared last night when I had to go out in the dark and gather firewood like a pioneer woman. But it had been beautiful outside, with moonlight glinting off the snow and a million stars in the sky. Like being in a snow globe before someone shook it. Picture perfect, with the log cabin and the silence.
Of course, that was also a problem. Silence. For miles. Over two feet of snow had dumped on the mountain in a freak snowstorm. As luck would have it, I’d decided to remain at the cabin after my family left at the end of our long weekend. I’d gone back to school at the ripe old age of twenty-five, so an extra night or two of peaceful mountain bliss and hitting the textbooks had been exactly what I needed.
Right.
What I got was snowed in. Alone, in the Smoky Mountains.
Stiff and sore from spending the night in a sleeping bag on the floor in front of the fireplace, I stretched as I sat up, blinking at the ultra-bright morning light. Automatically, I picked up the fireplace poker and stirred the fire, shivering as a flame leaped up. I piled on a few sticks for kindling—which I’d been fortunate enough to gather before the snow fell—and added one precious log.
My second day in the mountainous backcountry—okay, maybe that was exaggerating a bit, since there were neighbors a few miles down the road.
Hmm, what were my options for breakfast? The oatmeal I’d heated in a pan near the fire yesterday had scorched on one side, but the smoky flavor had actually been delicious if I avoided the blackened part. This morning, I was feeling adventurous. Like maybe trying bacon impaled on a stick, accordion style.
“Adventurous,” I muttered. “Right. What have I been reduced to, when cooking bacon is the only exciting thing in my day?”
Adventure meant hiking the peaks, skiing the slopes, not being marooned in the middle of nowhere, alone. What I needed was a good man to make being snowed in exciting.
But I didn’t have a man, because I played by the rules. Or maybe they were only my rules, and I was being too hard on myself. I’d long ago stopped going out with my friends to hit the bars. The only thing to find there was a hangover and some asshole who was probably married. Okay, that was a hang-up. Because that’s what had happened to me in reverse with my fiancé. He’d been the one going out for his bachelor party. Apparently that night hadn’t counted in his faithful relationship with me.
I sighed. I never would really move on if I didn’t get past that. He was a jerk who’d only looked like the perfect guy. I’d been lucky to find out before it was too late. That was also one of the reasons I’d stayed here at the cabin alone, to work myself through the tail end of that backlash. I’d given him his ring back over a year ago, and I hadn’t gone on a date since then.
I was horny.
And I needed a man.
Even though I knew a date or a boyfriend wasn’t a necessity to scratch that itch, something in me wouldn’t let me break loose from my own rules and just take what I wanted—what I needed. Maybe it was my conservative upbringing, or some ultra-moral gene I’d inherited from a bible-thumping ancestor.
Shaking my head, I said out loud, “I solemnly swear that the next time I’m presented with a desirable male who isn’t a total apparent asshat, I will strip down and take what I need.” I rolled my eyes at myself as I prepared the accordion-style bacon.
It turned out so fabulous that I put it on the menu for dinner.
Later in the afternoon, I took a break from studying in the gloomy light and went through the provisions in the pantry. Hmm, would my car make it out of the driveway, much less down the mountain? When would I need to think about rationing? How long until someone came along to plow the road? My cell hadn’t worked since the snow started dumping from the sky. What kind of priority would the cell tower near here have in the winter, to get it back online? Hopefully, it was kind of important.
A pit grew steadily in my stomach all day, a seed of fear that I might be in for more than just a little adventurous survival. Just as the sun was making the shadows fall long against the white expanse of snow, I heard it. A rumbling, from far off.
Yeah, right, just my imagination. I continued gathering blankets from the bedrooms. Might as well make my bed in front of the fireplace more comfortable. The rumbling grew louder, and I shrieked. An honest-to-goodness engine was nearby. A snowplow? A truck? I froze and cocked my head. I knew that sound. A tractor!
Dropping the blankets on the living room floor, I ran to the window. A green tractor with a cab bumped down the road in front of the cabin, scraping snow from the gravel in a clean path.
Pumping one fist to the ceiling, I whooped. If I could catch the driver, I could ask for the driveway to be plowed and get the heck out of here.
Diving for my coat, I plunged one arm into a sleeve.
The tractor stopped on the road and the window slid open.
Riveted—I hadn’t seen another human in a few days—I watched a dark-haired man lean out of the window. He looked familiar, especially his mannerisms, as he checked the wheels of the tractor for something.
During the summers I’d spent up here as a youngster, I’d made friends with the kids who lived in the area. Something in my chest twinged at his profile, though the scruff covering his jawline was unfamiliar, and made him look like a mountain man. Could it be him, the teenage boy I’d fancied myself in love with all those summers ago?
The solemn oath to myself echoed in my brain.
I solemnly swear that the next time I’m presented with a desirable male who isn’t a total apparent asshat, I will strip down and take what I ne
ed.
Dean Carlisle wasn’t an asshat—if it was Dean. No matter who this man was, though, he could be just the thing this adventure—and my whole musty life—had been lacking. Which was the whole reason I’d dared myself.
My heart started thumping fast in my chest.
The old me would have chickened out.
But the me who had roughed it in this cabin and was determined to recreate my life couldn’t chicken out. For my own sanity.
The man driving the tractor shifted gears and continued forward.
“Wait!” Of course, he could never hear me inside the cabin and over the noise of the engine. I snatched up my fur-lined boots.
The tractor turned into the cabin’s driveway, continuing to plow.
My heart thumped straight out of my chest. It was now or never.
I crossed my arms over my chest as I gazed out the window. The tractor cleared the driveway, piling the snow into a giant heap back by the shed. I was ready to go outside, coat and boots on. What was I waiting for? Was I a chicken?
Heading for the door, I came to an abrupt halt as the tractor parked and the dark-haired man jumped out with a snow shovel.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the hot, familiar figure as he plunged the shovel into the piles of snow. He’d changed a lot in the years since I’d last seen him, but only in a good way. Muscles bulged beneath his tan coveralls; even the thick material couldn’t hide the strength of his frame or the muscular curve of his thighs as he moved. He’d grown taller too, to well over six feet.
It was just like the Dean I knew from back then to pull up, unasked, and plow the driveway. Him shoveling the piles of frozen stuff away from my car had me glued to the windowpane. The storm that had turned the landscape into a glinting white wonderland had left me snowed in for more than twenty-four hours, longer than I’d ever gone without seeing another person. Studied out and a bit shell-shocked at the sight of him, I couldn’t have torn myself away from the window if the roof caved in.
Mercy, he was sexy, scooping up shovel after shovel of heavy snow. He’d gotten longer and leaner, had grown muscle in places I was soft—so much muscle that I wondered for a minute if it was really him, or a stranger who only looked kind of like him.
I caught a flash of his pale-blue eyes. Oh yes, this hunky mountain man was Dean Carlisle. As children we’d played together on mutual family vacations, as teenagers we’d graduated to sitting on a truck tailgate listening to music. Then he’d gone away to Harvard and hadn’t come back to his family’s vacation house. I’d heard he’d taken the helm at his family’s multibillion-dollar medical research company. What was he doing here now?
Nerves danced in my stomach. It had been so easy between us when we were kids. Now, I didn’t know him at all.
Hell, he was a stranger.
Granted, he was a stranger I’d once had a crush on, and had fantasies about, since the day I’d first caught a glimpse of him the summer I’d been going into the fifth grade.
I sighed and turned from the window, absently glancing over the cabin’s log walls, the moose motif, and the uncluttered kitchen, as I considered my options.
Did Dean have a girlfriend? It had been a long time since I’d gotten laid, and I’d forgotten to pack my vibrator. Plus, there was my oath. And watching all that manliness was just too much.
The muscles in his arms, and in his abdomen, had to be popping from the manual labor. If only I could take a peek underneath all that warm padding. He was probably sweaty under all those clothes too. I could practically visualize myself stripping him bare. Longing raced from my chest and downward, straight to my pussy.
How could I attract his attention? How could I let him know that I wanted to fulfill those fantasies that had kept me awake at night long ago? Every. Single. One.
Suddenly, my body temperature rose, and sweat popped out on my forehead in the cool room. I couldn’t stand it. I needed relief.
So right there in front of the window, I yanked my shirt up over my head, letting my nearly waist-length gold-streaked hair fall around me in soft waves. A shudder went through me as I stepped closer to the window, where at any moment he could glance up and see me standing there in my white bra with tiny, delicate rosebuds tracing an outline around my C-cups.
But he didn’t look up.
Pursing my lips, I took off my boots and peeled my leggings down my thighs and off. Then I pressed my body against the glass, and gasped—it was ice cold. But I was burning up watching Dean, who was so engrossed in his work. I thought about pressing my tits to the window and knocking loudly, but I didn’t know if he’d hear me, and that would be a little sluttier than what I was going for. I wasn’t aiming for an amateur porn film.
But what the hell. I’d damn well go after my fantasy. I’d been marooned by feet of snow on top of an almost-deserted mountain for long enough to go over practically every fantasy I’d ever had about Dean. Then, out of the blue, here he was. This had to be fate.
I reached back and unclasped my bra, letting the girls swing free. Cupping them in my hands, I pushed them up high and leaned into the window. My nipples touched the glass, and I screeched as they immediately hardened into tight little nubs. I pressed harder, smashing my breasts flat against the glass, sucking in a quick breath of air and feeling like a flasher.
No reaction from Dean. He was really focused on what he was doing.
I frowned and stepped back, rubbing my boobs to warm them. In my matching white thong undies, with tiny rosebuds adorning the elastic, I placed my hands on my hips and turned in a circle, trying to figure out what to do to get his attention.
My eyes shot wide when they landed on my furry boots. I laughed, low and sultry, before clamping my hand over my mouth and slipping the footwear on. The silence here had really gone to my head. If I didn’t talk to—or touch—another human soon, I’d go stark raving mad.
As I stood before the front door, my nerves sang. Hopefully Dean would love this, not think I was crazy. How embarrassing would it be if I did this and he turned me down?
Holding the doorknob, I paused, trying to calm my breathing. No single man would turn down the chance to be fucked instead of shoveling snow, would he?
Of course not. Right?
I was damn near desperate. So much so that tingles between my legs practically vibrated my pussy. I clamped my thighs together as I turned the knob and opened the front door.
A wave of cold air rushed over my bare skin, making my knees nearly buckle and goose bumps rise all over my bare skin. I resisted the urge to slam the door and huddle in front of the crackling fire or fold my arms across myself for warmth.
Instead, I stepped onto the porch, closed the door quietly behind me, and headed for the stairs. The trick was to walk to Dean as if I weren’t freezing, as if I wore clothes. As if I hadn’t a care in the world.
I lifted my chin high and fixed my gaze on the strong arms still tossing snow to the side of my car with a shovel. Putting one foot in front of the next, I began sashaying my way down the steps to the sidewalk. Once there, I lifted my legs high to step through the deep snow. But my boots didn’t make a sound on the snow-covered walk. I was halfway to the car before Dean looked up.
His mouth dropped open.
Blue eyes the color of a frozen pond widened and were drawn down my body. I was suddenly almost numb to the cold, his gaze on my breasts like a heated caress. His blue gaze dropped lower, sliding down my abdomen to my mound, that was covered only in gauzy white material. He let go of the shovel, and it fell with a bang on the side of my car.
He moved his head toward it slightly, as if distracted by the sound.
But his gaze stayed on me and went lower, down my legs to my boots before traveling back up again, stopping a second time at my most intimate of places.
I waited, inwardly both cringing and tingling. But I didn’t take my gaze from him. I cared more about the dreamy man in front of me than the possibility of a dent in my crappy car. Those gorgeous eyes—
the color of the sky reflected in ice—hitched at my breasts then slowly made their way up my collarbone, my neck, until they locked with mine. I could have sworn a zing went through the air, like the snap of lightning during thundersnow.
He breathed out my name, the sound a deep rumble. “Brie Wright…”
Dean Carlisle was no longer a boy. He was a man and…I glanced at the tractor parked in the driveway. And I suddenly had a new fantasy.
My heart beat faster and my breathing quickened until I could only take in fast, shallow breaths. To cover my excitement, I tilted my head and pulled a long lock of sunny-blonde hair through my fingers, laying it across one nipple to tease him. When his gaze followed my movements and he continued to stare, I stuck my left hip out and planted my hand there. “Dean.”
Snapping out of his lust-filled daze, he made long strides on powerful legs through the snow. My body heated with every step he took. Silently, he advanced, a hungry, predatory glint in his eyes. When he was a foot from me, he stopped suddenly, his breath heavier than my own, puffing out clouds of steam in the air between us. I couldn’t stop my lips from curling up in a smile.
“Brie. What in God’s name are you doing?”
I let the smile grow wider, showing off my high cheekbones. “Just trying to get your attention.” He was even more glorious up close, the muscles in his thick neck popping out from his exertion. I took a half step forward and placed my hand on his forearm.
His dark eyebrows shot up. “You want my attention.” He shook his head, his dark-brown hair glinting in the bright glare of the snow as he ran his fingers through his beard. “Baby, you got it. You almost gave me a heart attack.” Reaching out a hand, he quirked up a brow, as if to ask permission first.
When I gave him a flirty smirk and leaned forward slightly, his fingers grazed lightly over my collarbone and downward, across my left breast, running around its outer curve, then beneath, coming up and circling my nipple.
I gasped as heat blossomed low in my abdomen. I couldn’t believe I was doing this.