Mountain Man's Baby

by Chloe Maddox

  Mountain Man’s

  BABY

  Chloe Maddox

  and

  Angela Blake

  Hi! I’m Chloe Maddox, top #300 steamy contemporary romance author. Some say steamy, I say dirty.

  Alpha males, biker boys, mountain men, bad boys, billionaires, virgins and BDMS… that’s my jam.

  Because if my readers aren’t excited and begging for more, then I’m not happy.

  Sign up to my Velvet Lounge Club email list here: https://forms.aweber.com/form/63/1987311163.htm

  Table of Contents

  Mountain Man’s Baby

  DOUBLE Marines

  DOUBLE Cowboys

  DOUBLE Daddies

  WARNING: This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. It may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults ONLY.

  Please ensure this book is stored somewhere that cannot be accessed by underage readers.

   Copyright 2018 by Chloe Maddox - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  Mountain Man’s Baby

  Chapter 1

  “You look like you’re about to punch somebody in the face.”

  I gave a start as I peered over my computer screen and into the eyes of my best friend of five years, Leanna Clark.

  Leanna twirled a lock of blonde hair around her thumb and index finger as her golden eyes stared at me in amusement. Dressed in a pair of snug fitting jeans and a t-shirt that clung to her curves, she looked every inch the photographer she was.

  My outfit, on the other hand, left a lot to be desired. With my Bermuda shorts, flowing top and converse shoes, I was more cute and preppy, whereas Leanna was trendier and hip.

  It used to bother me at first before I knew her because I felt like everyone was being pitted against everyone else, and I had no chance of winning, but once Leanna and I became friends, that became a thing of the past.

  Although I still noted with a sigh every so often that I looked like I crawled out of a bag while she walked off the cover of a magazine. Girl friendships were complicated like that.

  I, Roxanne Muller, knew that like the back of my hand.

  It was hard enough making friends, but while women could be incredibly loyal, there was also a large portion of them that could be catty and vindictive. It was why I had stuck to male friends for a long time. Until Leanna came along.

  Now, we were inseparable.

  Leanna was petite and curvy whereas I was tall and willowy. She was the peanut butter to my jelly, the macaroni to my cheese, and the salt to my pepper.

  Cheesy analogies aside, I really did adore Leanna, and I couldn’t imagine going through life without her. We were both twenty-four and going through our early twenties together having met during the last year of college.

  I majored in Mass Communication whereas she majored in business, yet we still ended up interning for the same company. An up and coming photography company that was looking for fresh graduates.

  When I first applied, it was meant to be a temporary thing while I discovered what I wanted to do with my time. Just like a lot of graduates, I was interning at a job that had nothing to do with what I studied in college just to be able to put food on the table.

  It wasn’t that unusual, but I lucked out.

  I ended up falling in love with my job, much to my surprise, and when Leanna and I struck up a friendship, it seemed like the stars had aligned.

  Most days, I had good clients who more or less knew what they wanted which made my life easier, especially in a small town like ours where everybody knew everybody else.

  In the town of Dawson Falls which was dubbed as such because the newest mayor was a huge fan of the show Dawson’s Creek, very little went on behind closed doors that nobody knew about.

  It was a small price to pay in order to get a sense of community and belonging, but it also meant that there was no such thing as privacy. A wild night out on the town would most certainly ensure that people would be wagging their fingers at you and shaking their head in amusement as they told the story of how you danced on a table top while belting out Britney Spears.

  Yeah, that was not one of my finest moments, but it sure made for a hell of a story.

  When I first came across the job, my parents thought I had lost my mind. They lived in Chicago, a thriving metropolis, and they couldn’t understand why I’d give that up for a small-town life in a tiny firm which wouldn’t really get me anywhere.

  However, they couldn’t understand that after the cut throat real world, I was more than happy to move into a quiet town where I could get my bearings, and people were not always in a hurry. The gossip tended to drive me nuts, and sometimes their small mindedness was more than irritating, but beyond that, it was more or less what I had hoped it would be.

  I was surprised when I saw Leanna there because she struck me as a city girl, but she was about as small town as they came, and she adapted to life here as if she were made to. Almost like she was one of those Southern Belles I used to hear so much about.

  We were the talk of the town for a while, but soon, people lost interest as is always the case when something shiny and new becomes dull and old. It was good though because it meant they were starting to accept us as one of their own.

  “Hello?” Leanna snapped her hand in front of my face impatiently.

  “Yeah, no. I might actually punch someone in the face, or at least I would if I could, but company policy states that I can’t,” I grumbled.

  “Mrs. Welsh giving you a hard time again?”

  “She made me retake the pictures several times already. Each time complaining about the light or the filters I was using. She’s making me feel as if I’m a snapchat app or something,” I complained.

  Leanna snorted. “I mean with the rise of Snapchat and such, it’s a good thing photography still exists.”

  “It’s a dying art,” I lamented. “Still, I do wish clients would realize that they can’t just press the finger on a screen and presto, they get what they want.”

  “Who knows? They might eventually realize that.”

  “Yes, and I might get to go on a date with Kit Harrington, but we know that ain’t happening either,” I commented, sarcastically.

  “You know nothing, Roxanne Muller,” Leanna teased as she quoted one of our favorite shows. People in this town liked to pretend that they were above the Game of Thrones phase, but as soon as their doors closed, everyone tuned into HBO.

  It was a guilty pleasure, and it was a damn good show to boot.

  “I can live with that,” I quipped cheerfully.

  “No, you can’t. It’ll haunt you. It’ll stay with you for the rest of your days,” she muttered in a tone that was meant to sound ominous.

  I rolled my eyes as I scoffed. “Were you trying to sound all scary like the red lady?”

  “That depends. Did it work?” Leanna asked, hopefully.

  “Nope.”

  “Then no, that wasn’t what I was going for at all.”

  “Says the woman named after one of the characters,” I teased.

  “I was not named after Leanna Stark,” Leanna insisted. “Why would I want to be named after her anyways? She’s the reason war broke out.”

  “She was in love, Lea. I’m sure she didn’t mean for it to happen that way,” I responded. I was a sucker for a good love story, a
nd the one between Leanna Stark and Rhaeger Targaryen was timeless, but it was also a lot like a Shakespearean tragedy.

  Both characters ended up dead, and the son was raised as a bastard having never known who his parents were.

  But I digress…

  “That’s what Helen of Troy felt as well I’m sure, and look how that turned out,” Leanna pointed out smugly.

  “The whole city was burned to the ground because of Agamemnon’s greed, not because of Helen and Paris falling in love,” I corrected.

  “It was a catalyst,” Leanna argued. “If Helen hadn’t left her husband Menalous, brother of the great king of Agamemnon, he would’ve found another excuse to invade Troy eventually. Helen was just a pretext.”

  “I agree, so Helen and Paris can’t be held accountable. Sure the timing was less than ideal, and the circumstances were difficult—“

  “Less than ideal? Difficult circumstances?” Leanna interrupted, her expression incredulous. “That’s an understatement. That’s like saying that Hitler never meant for the war to get out of hand.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. Well, anyways, we could debate the technicalities all day, but we’re unlikely to agree with each other.”

  “Yes, so let’s agree to disagree,” Leanna offered.

  “Deal. Now, would you happen to have any advice about how I can make her look like she’s in her twenties?”

  I turned my laptop screen around and had the rare pleasure of seeing Leanna do a double take, her expression wide eyed and comical. It was rare to be able to catch Leanna in a moment of weakness at work because she had the best poker face in the world.

  She always her had game face on as she liked to call it, and I always tried to find new ways to make her crack.

  One point for me, and zero for Leanna.

  “Maybe try dimming the lighting?” She tried to recover swiftly, but she still had a disbelieving look on her face.

  “Yeah, I might take that suggestion seriously if your mouth wasn’t glued to the floor,” I cracked as I leaned back in my chair.

  “It is not glued to the floor,” Leanna said, defensively. “You just caught me by surprise. How many face lifts has she had?”

  “A couple if I had to guess, but her guy is terrible because it’s a bit obvious, and that shouldn’t be the case, right?” I commented.

  “Right, but you can tell he used to be good because the lines around her eyes are almost completely gone,” Leanna peered at the screen closely, her expression thoughtful.

  “Oh no, Lea, we sound exactly like them right now.” My mouth flew open, and my pupils dilated.

  “Like who?” Leanna turned her head to look at me, her expression confused. “What? No, that can’t happen.”

  “Next thing you know, we’re going to be discussing homemade recipes and exchanging gardening tips,” I whispered in mock horror.

  “I love those ladies, but I don’t want to be like that,” Leanna insisted. “No, this can’t happen. Quick, we need something that’ll bring us back to our old selves.”

  “Want to drive to the next town tonight and see if we can catch a movie that was released last week?” I suggested, brightly.

  “You’re on. Phew.” Leanna pretended to wipe away the sweat. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Roxy.”

  “Let’s hope you never have to find out,” I joked as I gave her a quick wink.

  “Hottie alert,” Leanna mouthed as she stood back and straightened her shirt.

  I pretended to adjust my laptop screen as I discreetly looked over my shoulder.

  It was him.

  The tall redhead with eyes the color of emeralds.

  I’d seen him around a few times, and the rumor mill was quite ruthless when it came to him, especially because he never bothered to quell the rumors, nor did he seem to care.

  Christopher Davis had a physique like a bodybuilder, and he looked like he wandered off the latest cover of Abercrombie and Fitch. With his thick beard, and his wayward hair, he was like a rugged version of Ed Sheeran.

  All the women in town paused and stared whenever he walked past, but he never gave them the time of day. It was curious really.

  Rumor had it that he was in some kind of biker gang, others maintained that he was into organized crime, and some believed that he was a trust fund kid gone wild.

  I personally didn’t think he was any of those things.

  His eyes were too kind, and he was entirely too quiet to be any real source of trouble. Not that I’d had any reason to deal with him much except for when he occasionally wandered in, asked to take a look at the pictures then abruptly left.

  Aside from small stunted conversation, Chris and I really had no reason to converse at all.

  His bright red hair looked slightly more kempt than usual, and I wondered if that was for a particular reason. My finger itched with the desire to feel the smooth texture, but I resisted the urge by letting my fingers hover over the keyboard.

  For a man who seemed to shy away from being the center of attention, it was strange that he liked to walk in and ask to have his picture taken. It went against the persona he gave off.

  Not that it was any of my business, but still I was curious about him.

  I had no idea if that was because the small town life was rubbing off on me, or if it was because I was wildly attracted to him. Perhaps a little bit of both.

  Of course the attraction part did make things acutely uncomfortable when he followed me into a back room that was private and secluded. It was meant to be used at our discretion to photograph clients, and especially those who didn’t like the limelight.

  However, lately, I found myself speculating about what would happen if he somehow miraculously felt the same way. Would he reach behind me, unlock the door, and we’d kiss till we were naked?

  God, that sounded like a badly written novel.

  Clearly, I had been reading too many eroticas lately, and it had been a while since I had a man in my life, so I guess that was messing with my hormones as well. I knew nothing about Christopher and fantasizing about him would not help.

  I was supposed to be a professional who didn’t let her mind nor eyes wander, but I couldn’t help it. Chris was sinfully built, and if I wasn’t at least slightly drawn to him then I would have to seriously question my sexuality.

  And I had no reason to doubt that I played for the other team.

  If anything, being drawn to Christopher was an indication that I wasn’t, but it left me wondering if I just liked to punish myself by liking the wrong people.

  That had always been my problem.

  I would meet a guy, and then weeks later I would fall head over heels; only to find out that the man I fell in love with was someone completely different… that I had fallen in love with the potential instead of the real deal.

  It was not a bad thing per se. A lot of guys lived up to their potential, eventually.

  Nevertheless, it seemed that it was not meant to happen in this lifetime.

  There were times when I thought about having a personality make-over, people changed how they look all the time, why should I be any different?

  Why couldn’t I be a leather wearing, bike riding bad ass?

  Or maybe one of those really chill bohemian women?

  There were so many possibilities, and they were mine for the taking. I did experiment a bit here and there with my style and such, but in the end, I drifted back to who I was. Only to realize that I was most comfortable in my own skin.

  Sure, I’d gotten my heart broken a fair share, but I still believed that I would find someone worthwhile someday, and in the meantime, there was no harm in having fun!

  Getting caught up with someone like Christopher sounded like it would be just that in the beginning, but now that I thought about it, it was probably a bad idea.

  Despite my initial reservations, I’d probably end up getting attached, and he didn’t strike me as the type to have a steady girlfriend. Not that I wanted to jud
ge or anything, but I had nothing to go on but my instinct.

  It usually served me well.

  All of these thoughts zigzagged through my mind like a zip line as Christopher’s eyes danced across the room till they finally landed on me. My heart did a weird little sputter, as if its engine stalled before it started back up again.

  This time though, it zoomed a million miles a minute as if it was trying to catch up with something. The adrenaline steadily pumped through me, making it nearly impossible to sit still.

  He gave me a small smile as he shoved his hands in his pockets and ducked his head to avoid attracting attention.

  It was pointless really. People would notice him wherever he was, he was huge, and this was coming from someone who was considered fairly tall for her age.

  I had to crane my neck up to look at him when he stopped at my desk and waited.

  “Hello,” I said, adopting my professional voice.

  “Hi,” He said as he tried to flick his hair out of his eyes. A single lock fell onto his face, and it made him look more youthful.

  “Would you like to have a seat, Mr. Davis?” I gestured to one of the chairs in front of me, but as usual, he declined.

  This was our usual dance whenever he came in. He would walk towards me, I’d try not to be surprised even though it got me every time, I would offer him a seat, which he would turn down then we would get down to business.

  It was a routine we both knew down to the letter, and we went through the motions pretty well. We had it down to a science really.

  “No, thank you,” he responded as he shifted from one foot to the next.

  His beard had gotten scruffier since I last saw him, and I saw blond strands in the middle of the red. I pondered what it would feel like against bare skin, given that it looked quite scratchy, but I immediately dismissed the thought.

  I was a professional, and I had no business daydreaming about a man who was standing right in front of me. Even if he was the sexiest thing I’d ever laid eyes on.

  “How can I help you today?”

  “I want to take a few postcard sized pictures,” he responded, automatically.

  He always asked for the same thing, and I was curious what he used them for, but it wasn’t my business to ask.