© Summer Donnelly, 2018
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement
For the awkward dreamers.
Maybe we’re all slightly out of our depth, doing the best we can. Let go of your fear and make your dreams a reality.
Her Lonely Mastiff
Summer Donnelly
Chapter One
Lacey
Lacey St. Claire stared at her GPS and frowned with displeasure. How could she be lost in a village the size of Silver Fells, North Carolina? From one end of the town to the other could be seen in her rearview mirror. Where in the world was Maxwell Mountain Resorts?
She loved North Carolina. Had grown up in Winston-Salem. Had cheered when the Carolinas got their first football team. Loved long weekends on the beaches and exploring the coves of the Outer Banks. But honestly, the Blue Ridge Mountains might as well have been in a foreign country. Switchbacks, snow, and bear tracks. Oh, my!
When her best friend Hadley had declared she needed a vacation, Lacey envisioned the Crystal Coast or maybe the warmer weather of Myrtle Beach. But the Carolina Mountains in February? Call her a cab because she wanted out!
She had to be near Maxwell Mountain. Right? She’d passed their lame Welcome to Maxwell Mountain sign at least a dozen times by now. It wouldn’t even have surprised Lacey if the locals had called the police on the out of town car endlessly circling the town square. Unfortunately, the more she drove in a circle, the more lost she became.
Just then the tires on her subcompact took a spin on some icy slush, and Lacey felt her car fishtail dangerously. “Oh, crap on a cracker,” she muttered as she steered into the spin. Or was she supposed to turn the wheel in the opposite direction? Maybe she should have paid more attention during driving classes all those years ago.
As her small car eventually righted itself back on the road, Lacey took a deep, calming breath. “‘Get away,’” Lacey said, mocking Hadley’s suggestion. “‘Relax. It will do you good.’” Lacey’s fingers gripped her steering wheel with white-knuckled intent. What she wanted was to go home, sleep in her own bed, and curl up with Zoe, her chubby rescue kitty.
Unfortunately, if she put her wants in one hand and spit in the other, guess which one filled up faster? At the moment, she had no home to go back to.
Meow.
“Oh I know, Zoe. Trust me. I’ll give Hadley a piece of my mind when I get home,” Lacey reassured her cat as the rescue complained from deep inside her kitty carrier. “Or at least once we get someplace quiet enough to call her.”
Lacey pulled over for the third time and tugged out the brochure Hadley had included with her vacation package. Lacey still wasn’t convinced there were rental cabins anywhere in this town or its outskirts. She was as lost as Alice down a rabbit hole and was tempted to call one of the chain hotels near Boone or Asheville before continuing home.
Tap, tap, tap.
Lacey startled and looked up in horror at the older man knocking on her car window. She rolled it down an inch, wincing when the biting cold air hit her car-warmed cheeks.
“Are you lost, ma’am?” he asked, his dark eyes not quite kind but not threatening.
“Uh, yes?” Lacey said. She deepened her native Carolinian drawl and decided to count on Southern Hospitality saving her. She passed the brochure to the man. “I’m trying to find Maxwell Mountain Resorts. I have a cabin reserved there for a week.”
The man’s nose flared as he inhaled and his eyes narrowed. Had he seemed almost kind before? Because now, he was definitely emanating dislike. “Maybe it’s best if you head home,” he said.
Lacey felt her shoulders stiffen beneath his dismissive attitude. “You know, if this is the way ya’ll treat tourists, it’s no wonder people prefer anyplace but here,” she said, eyes flashing with annoyance. “Now, can you tell me where the resort is? I have driven a long time to get here, and I’d like to settle in before full dark.”
Hiss.
The man’s gaze darted to the back seat where Zoe had taken a definite dislike to the stranger. Weird, Lacey thought. She was usually such a calm girl.
The man chuckled then, as though he’d just been let in on a joke. Lacey felt her fingers tighten on her steering wheel reflexively. This guy was giving her the major creeps but so far, no one else had offered to help.
“Take the first left just as you pass the old Hamilton place,” Creepy Dude said. “There will be a sign for Maxwell Mountain on the right. Keep following the signs. Can’t miss it.”
Lacey nodded before putting her car back into drive and pulled back out onto the main drag. As she rolled up the window she could have sworn she heard Creepy Dude saying something like “it’s your funeral” but that couldn’t be. Right?
Where in the world had Hadley sent her?
It was a picturesque town. Quiet. Quaint. Lots of cute shops and a little diner that looked like it would serve up a mean grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup combo if she asked nicely. Lacey’s stomach growled at the thought of food but she ignored it.
No matter how rude of the locals were, Lacey was determined to have a good time. She had traveled from the other side of the state to spend a week in a secluded, snow-covered cabin. And that was what she was going to do.
Hadley had put a lot of hard work and energy into planning this trip for her. Hadley Mills was a nurse practitioner who fostered several litters of cats from the clinic Lacey worked at. The two women had grown close as they worked together on a rescue.
And then, when their veterinarian had up and sold the clinic, they were all left without jobs. Lacey had stared at the vacation package Hadley had purchased at Christmas and made the impulsive leap into taking a week off from her troubles.
Lacey was a woman who had always colored inside the lines. Straight As throughout high school. Scholarships to all the right schools. Dating her high school sweetheart. Living with her parents until she was married.
But now her life lay scattered like a puzzle at her feet. Her job was gone. Her parents were looking at her to move out. And the boyfriend? Well, he’d left for more exciting partners.
But as Lacey searched for the corners and edges of her life-puzzle, she realized something else. Like living breathing clay, Lacey had the power to mold her life into what she wanted. Not what was expected of her. That both scared her and thrilled her. Who was she and what did she want? At twenty-seven, she felt like a kid again. The world was hers to explore. A week to herself for a new adventure on Maxwell Mountain felt like the right first step.
Lacey’s car fishtailed as she slid into the wrong lane after taking a turn on the road. Although the streets were coated with a fine white sheet of sand and salt, it was getting late in the day. Temperatures were falling and another snow shower would soon make the streets slippery again.
But as Lacey righted the car, she slowed to a stop in front of what she assumed was the Old Hamilton place. Right there, in front of her eyes, was a dilapidated sign telling her to make a right for Maxwell Mountain Resort.
Of course, the sign was right where it was supposed to be, Lacey thought. Hunger and fear were making her cranky, and all she wanted was to find her cottage and have a sandwich. Or two.
“The owners should fix that sign,” Lacey muttered to Zoe. “Or at least make it bigger so tourists could read it.”
Riding her brakes a bit, Lacey coast
ed down a steep, icy road. It wasn’t well traveled at all, and for a moment she wondered how her little car was going to make it back up. Eventually, the road let out into an open parking area surrounded by three snug cottages.
White, with black shutters and wrap around porches, they were the epitome of charming and quaint. Surrounded by trees and snow, all they needed was an oversized dog and a couple of kids throwing snowballs at each other.
Or maybe a threesome of musical pigs.
A giggle of hysteria bubbled up inside of her as she wondered which of the three cabins of big bad wolf would blow down first.
On the porch stood a giant of a man. Or at least a giant compared to her own five-foot-nothing frame. Or maybe it was all an illusion because he towered over all he saw from his elevated perch.
His dark hair was tucked under a wool beanie that clearly defined high cheekbones and a chiseled jaw. His hands were braced on his hips, boot-clad feet spread wide in an aggressive posture. His jeans were well worn and ... oh my. Mouth-wateringly well-worn in certain quite yummy places. His dark sweater clung to his body, defining each ridge of muscle on his chest, abs, and arms.
He wore no coat. No scarf. Nothing to protect him from the encroaching night or wind. It was like he was impervious to the winter weather.
His face was frozen as he stared down at her, dark eyes stormy and mysterious. Their gazes met through Lacey’s windshield and she gasped at the sheer perfection Mother Nature had granted him. His sculpted jaw had a hint of scruff that made him look like he had just crawled out of a woman’s bed after a long weekend of hanging from the chandelier style lovemaking. His nose was strong, broad at the base and narrowing slightly which gave her another place to look besides the sensual curve of his lips. Those lips she suddenly wanted to explore with every ounce of her being, especially now that she was a bad girl in training.
Lips that looked plush. Pliant. Seductive. Even when frowning at her. Which he was.
Nervously, Lacey waved up at him and cursed herself for smiling like a goofball. After putting the car into park and turning off the ignition, she took a deep, calming breath. She had this. She did.
“You go, girl,” she said to encourage her flagging confidence.
Lacey got out of the car, leaving Zoe meowing pitifully in the back seat. “I’ll be right back,” she murmured to the frightened cat. “I don’t want you out in the wind, okay? Stay warm.”
“Who are you talking to?” Muscles said.
“Eeek!” Lacey screamed. “Where did you come from?”
Muscles raised an eyebrow with disgusting ease. “From right on the porch. Didn’t you see me?” He frowned. “You waved at me. You had to see me.”
“Well, yes, I saw you there,” Lacey said, crankiness creeping into her voice. “What I didn’t see was you approach me. You’ve got some scary Ninja moves there, my friend.” Too bad Lacey thought Ninja moves were sexy.
“Who were you talking to?” Muscles frowned, looking for another person in her car.
“Uh, Zoe. My cat,” Lacey said, taken aback by his abrupt behavior.
“You can’t leave a cat alone in a car,” Muscles said, crossing his arms in front of his massive chest as another blast of wind shook the trees, her hair, and her car.
“Yes, I know that,” Lacey said, surprised by his concern over her cat but not her. “Now, I’m here for my vacation rental. Let me find the owner, get my key, and get settled.” She folded her own arms in imitation of his closed-off stance and glared up at him mulishly.
Muscles merely gave her an insolent look in return. With sudden insight, Lacey figured the sexy jerk of a hottie was probably the owner.
“I think you have the wrong place,” Muscles said. His voice was deep. Supple. A shameless invitation to do naughty things. Tempting her to explore all his forbidden lines and curves. Except he was inviting her to leave.
“Why does everyone say I’m in the wrong place?” Lacey demanded. “First that old guy in town and now you.” She pulled her reservation papers out of her pocket and thrust them right in the middle of Muscles’ downright delicious looking chest. “I traveled a helluva long way to get here. My cottage is paid for. You just show me which one of these three little pig huts is mine to call home, and I’ll get out of your way.”
“I’m not set up for guests,” Muscles said, eyes narrowing.
“I bet that works on everyone doesn’t it?” Lacey said, thrusting her chin further in the air. “Well, not on me.”
They stared at each other, tension rising between them. She watched while his nose flared as though… Was he smelling her? Please oh Jeeze, let her deodorant still be working!
When he continued to not say anything at all, she took a deep, calming breath and looked around. The only cottage that looked occupied was the one he’d come from. Well. Okay then. He could give her the silent treatment all he wanted. She had a reservation and the right to be there.
With a low sound of female distaste, Lacey yanked her leopard-print suitcase and kitty carrier from the back of the car and began walking towards the first empty cabin.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Muscles demanded.
“What’s it look like, Cowboy?” Lacey gritted her teeth to refrain from saying anything nasty. She was a Southern Belle, damn it, and would not let this mountain warrior rust her southern charm.
With almost preternatural speed, the Hot-a-sarus Rex darted in front of her. “You can’t stay here,” he said, biting off each word. Enunciating them as though she were either hard of hearing or not quite bright.
Lacey smiled up at him, using her best debutante-all-teeth-no-emotion smile. “Then call the police,” she said. “Because I am staying.” She patted his chest for good measure. Debutantes were good at condescension.
His left cheek began to twitch. Lacey wasn’t quite sure if that was a good thing, like he was about to break out in a cheek-busting smile. Or a bad thing. Like he was about to go into a berserker rage.
Meow, Zoe called, desperate for a litter box and some kibble.
From one heartbeat to the next, Muscles changed. It was like hot water pouring over plastic. One minute he was hard. Repellent. Fierce. The next, he had melted into a scolding, concerned human being. The switch was so fast, if Lacey hadn’t witnessed it herself, she wouldn’t have believed it.
“Get her out of the cold,” he said. He glanced at the paperwork he still held. “Lacey St. Claire?”
“In the flesh,” Lacey said, continuing towards the cabin. “This one have heat and running water?”
A brief look of chagrin washed over him. “Yes, they all do,” he admitted. He held his hand out. “I’m Tarquin Maxwell. Call me Quinn. Welcome to Maxwell Mountain.”
Lacey’s eyes narrowed as she took in his extended hand. It wasn’t like her to be rude, of course. But, for reasons best left unnamed at the moment, she didn’t want to touch him.
Liar, the voice in her head accused. You want to touch him everywhere. All over. With your tongue.
A blush appeared on her cheeks and Lacey coughed. She straightened her spine and extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Quinn Maxwell. If you would be so kind as to take my suitcase in?”
Grumbling about something she didn’t care to listen to, Quinn picked up her suitcase as though it didn’t weigh a thing and led her to the first cabin.
“Now, where can I get dinner around here?”
“It’s getting dark,” Quinn muttered, leaving her suitcase in the middle of the living area. He went to the thermostat and hit the button several times to heat up the small room. “You’ll have to wait until morning.”
“Morning? That’s unacceptable, Mr. Maxwell,” Lacey said. “I have some kibble for Zoe, but I haven’t eaten anything since six a.m.” She shivered and gave him a coy hopeful smile through her bangs. Lacey rolled her eyes when he didn’t respond. Figures. A garden gnome on a stripper pole probably had more sex appeal than she did.
“If you’re staying, you hav
e to agree to be inside after dark. It’s not safe for your kind to be out on the mountain alone.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I have you here with me, isn’t it?” Lacey said with a bright, forced smile. Not that she was about to agree to his ridiculous rules, but she was hungry. Severely close to hangry. If she continued arguing about it, she might do something she’d regret.
Quinn sighed. “Tell me what you want to eat and I’ll go get it. There’s a burger joint down the road.”
“Take me with you,” she bargained.
“Burgers. My last offer, Ms. St. Claire.”
“Fine,” Lacey said, her voice cool and precise. She knew when she was up against a stubborn brick wall. “Bacon cheeseburger. Medium rare. Onion rings. Ranch dressing.”
Quinn nodded. “Deal.” His eyes narrowed. “But you stay in this damn cabin, is that understood?”
Stubbornness warred with hungry. Hungry won. “I promise,” she gritted out. She pulled a twenty from her wallet. “Get yourself a burger, too, Mountain Man.”
His eyes narrowed. “Your parents named you wrong, didn’t they? You aren’t a sweet southern girl named Lacey at all, are you? You, sweetheart, are Trouble.”
“Me?” Lacey said, secretly pleased with the moniker. She’d been a good girl her whole life. And now she was trouble. Or Trouble, she mentally amended.
Without another word, Quinn turned on the ball of one foot and exited the cabin. In his wake, the light scent of his cologne, his sheer male scent, remained. She inhaled, trying to place it. Trying to hold it to her. Memorize it.
She opened her eyes when she heard him walk towards his truck. The muscles in his thighs stretched as he walked, and each step made his butt muscles flex. Damn, that man had a fine rear view.
As though sensing her watching him, he turned and looked at where she stood. Instantly, she dropped the curtain and stepped away. She didn’t think she had fooled him, but she didn’t want to wait while he caught her ogling him, either.
Maybe, just maybe, Lacey thought with a grin, she’d become Trouble after all.
Her Lonely Mastiff Page 1