A Moment of Bliss

by Heather McGovern

  Had she over packed? Probably. But did she have any idea what a person needed to bring for a vacation in the mountains? Absolutely not.

  The weather could be hot or cold, dry or damp. Was dinner at Honeywilde dressy or casual? Did she need hiking boots and sneakers? Until yesterday, she hadn’t owned hiking boots.

  Now she did.

  Along with something called a rope bag and a pair of god-awful shoes one was supposed to wear in the river. As if she had plans to walk in the river.

  The salesman at the outdoor store swore she’d need all of it. He’d known a sucker as soon as he saw her.

  All that remained in the trunk was her train case, full of cosmetics, toiletries, and a bottle of Xanax she’d refused to crack open—so far. Anna grabbed the case and her purse and hurried after Trevor.

  Once he’d off loaded her things, he wished her an awesome stay and took off, leaving her all alone in her Highpoint Escape.

  “Well. Here we are,” she said, doing a slow three-sixty in the middle of the cabin’s den, her announcement met with silence.

  A two-foot-tall bear, carved out of wood, stared back from beside the fireplace.

  He was cute, but fat chance of him responding.

  When she was six or seven, her father brought her to North Carolina to see the bears. She’d been terrified, but he’d assured her everything was safe. The bear cubs were cute, the momma bear not so much.

  Anna grabbed her phone to take a picture. Her dad would get such a kick out of the bear statue.

  The phone suddenly turned to a block of cement in her hand, the picture on the lock screen shaking before she tossed it back in her purse.

  Her father was gone. She could no longer send him anything. No funny pictures, no one-line comments that only he would appreciate.

  She sank to the arm of the sofa, the wave of sadness like gravity.

  She’d asked her therapist, Susan, about inviting a friend or boyfriend to join her on her break, phrasing the question like she had a boyfriend or knew anyone who’d be willing to put their lives on hold to go away to the mountains with her.

  In her mind, she’d figured a traveling companion might make the time more enjoyable. Distract her from loss and the ripple effect that was ruining her life.

  Susan’s answer was a hard and fast no.

  The point of her time off was to focus on herself, not others; no distractions so she could overcome her denial of grief, reflection and yadda, yadda something about actualization. Anna was supposed to be taking the time to think about what she wanted out of life and how she’d function in this “new normal.”

  God, if she never heard that term again it’d be wonderful.

  She carefully set her shoulder bag on the coffee table and made herself get up and look around. Missing her father was not going to dissolve into wallowing again.

  She’d already tried that, and it didn’t help.

  The one bedroom, one bath cabin turned out to be as lovely as the pictures on the website. Everything was on one level except the loft-style bedroom. The floors were rich hardwoods, with big windows, and no over-the-top moose or bear themed décor. Just the one cute bear guarding the fireplace.

  The place was tastefully decorated in neutrals with warm apricot accents, exactly how she would’ve set up a log cabin if she happened to own one.

  Except—

  If cabin five were her place, she probably would’ve remembered one very important detail.

  Nice Jacuzzi tub, porcelain pedestal sink, and the toilet looked shiny and clean.

  And completely without a seat.

  “That is not going to work,” she announced to the cabin.

  How the heck did you forget a toilet seat?

  Then again, if three brothers ran the place, toilet seats probably didn’t top their priorities.

  Normally she’d unpack first and worry about it later, but later might be too late and she was here to visit the mountains in style, not cop a squat in the woods.

  Flipping through the handy binder by the phone, she found the number for guest services. It only rang once before somebody answered.

  “Thank you for calling Honeywilde. How may I be of service?”

  Good Lord, the voice on him.

  Deep and warm, raspy as if recently over-used, with a southern accent slightly thicker than the ones she usually heard in Atlanta. The way the words dripped from his lips made the question sound pornographic.

  She’d bet anything, with nothing more to go on than a voice, she was talking to Devlin.

  “Hello. May I help you?” His voice filled her ear, sending goose bumps down her arms.

  “Yes. Hi. This is cabin five.”

  “Ms. Martel,” he said, before she could get any further. “Are you settling in okay?”

  “Uhm . . .” No. She wasn’t settled at all, now that he’d purred in her ear, thank you very much. “Yes, everything is great, but there’s one tiny problem. In the bathroom, there’s no toilet seat.”

  Silence ruled for a few beats, then, “You’re kidding.” His voice remained phone sex material, but the dry note of wit made her smile.

  “No. I wish was.”

  “I am so sorry.” Embarrassment and urgency replaced the drawl. “We’ll have someone over there immediately.”

  “Thank you.” Hanging up, she realized she was still smiling. Smiling about a missing toilet seat.

  When she opened the door to the cabin a few minutes later, the reason why was confirmed.

  “Sorry again about the missing seat, but I’m here to take care of it.” Devlin’s eyes crinkled at the outer edges. In one hand, he held a still boxed and wrapped toilet seat, in the other dangled a tool belt. “At the start of the summer season we replace a lot of things and, unfortunately, your toilet seat was overlooked.”

  “I understand. Come on in.” Lord help her, what if he put on that tool belt?

  She stepped aside to let him in, and he headed straight through the den and past the kitchen.

  As he reached the short hall, he jerked to a stop as if catching himself. “I’m Devlin, by the way. I didn’t get to introduce myself earlier.”

  No, but he’d made quite the impression anyway.

  “I’m Anna. Nice to meet you. Officially.” For lack of knowing what else to do, and since his hands were full of tool belt, she gave him a slow, wide wave.

  Because sometimes she was a giant goober.

  “You too.” The impish smile on his full lips made her breath catch.

  Then he was gone, ducked into the bathroom.

  Heat skittered up her neck again, and it wouldn’t do. If she let her nervous reaction get out of control, she’d be all blotchy and itchy.

  A super attractive look.

  Once a stranger had asked if she was allergic to peanuts or shellfish or something. Nope. Just her body hated her.

  She hung back, in the hall, furiously fanning her neck.

  “My brother Trev was supposed to give the cabins a final inspection. We don’t use them during the winter and in early spring they’re rarely booked, so . . .” The clank of tools drifted down the hall. He was definitely putting on the tool belt.

  She fanned faster.

  “You might be our first guest up here this year.”

  Carefully, she moved closer to the bathroom door. On the one hand, she did not need to see him being handy and stuff, doing things with wrenches and whatever. But on the other hand she couldn’t go the entire rest of her life having not checked out the tool belt situation.

  “This shouldn’t take but a minute. Is everything else okay with the cabin? Or have you even had a chance to check?” The rough edge in his voice soothed her senses, like someone gently scratching her back.

  Before she bothered to look inside, she leaned against the wall outside the bathroom to listen to him talk. “Everything else is fine. The cabin is great, you know, besides the toilet. I can’t wait to take a walk and have a look around. See what else is here.” She rolled out
the idea, hoping he’d offer suggestions, elaborate. Anything. As long as he kept talking.

  “You checked in at a great time. Sunset is in just a little while, perfect for catching the colors during a stroll. You have a good view from your front porch, but the best view is at the main inn on the veranda, and you’d still have enough time to make it back here before dark.”

  Her toes curled in her wedges. A long walk near sunset sounded ideal, or maybe it was the way he said it.

  Finally ready, she leaned in the doorway to find Devlin, tool belt on, squatted down and leaned over, jeans pulled tight around thick thighs, messing with something on the wall behind the toilet.

  Wrong. She wasn’t ready at all.

  Who had legs like that? Long and solid looking, like he could hold a girl’s weight if he had her up against the—oh good gosh, she was being a perv.

  “The supply line is loose. Tightening it up while I’m down here.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Oh. Hey.” He jerked up, probably not expecting her to be all up in the doorway while he worked on a toilet.

  She should say something. Quick. Before this got weird.

  “So . . .” What to say, what to say?

  Her line of sight, and therefore thought, was full of Devlin and blue jeans and Wow, and toilets. None of it made for appropriate small talk.

  “Food.” The word fell out of her mouth.

  Of course she came up with food. “I have my own kitchen in the cabin, but I doubt I’ll have time to make it to a grocery store today. Doesn’t the main inn have a restaurant?” She knew the inn had a restaurant; she’d already picked out the first thing she wanted to order from the online menu. And possibly the second and third.

  “We have an outstanding restaurant. Hold that thought.” He leaned over again, doing something with a wrench that did delicious things to the muscles in his shoulders and back. Masking nothing, the thin gray T-shirt he wore clung to him, highlighting the dip of his spine, making her fingers itch to touch.

  They were supposed to be talking about food. Her neck burned and she fanned it quickly, while he was distracted.

  As bleak as her sex life already was, for over half a year now her desire for anything had gone ice cold. With no interest, she hadn’t even looked twice at a guy. She hadn’t read a book past page two, gone shopping except for this trip, or done anything other than work.

  Nothing sent that zip of excitement through her body; nothing held her attention for longer than five minutes, so she’d buried herself in her job, more so than before.

  Then that had fallen apart too. Her creativity, the flair that made her one of the top execs at the agency—gone.

  But now, awareness danced across her skin. Her limbs tingled with anticipation, like when she was coming up with the perfect pitch for a sales campaign or seeing a gorgeous guy in well-fit blue jeans, bent over and doing some plumbing.

  “There.” Once he shoved the wrench in its spot on the belt, he stood with a groan.

  Mercy, you shouldn’t have.

  The belt sat low on his hips, accentuating a narrow waist and flat stomach.

  Maybe her desire wasn’t as cold as she’d thought. Maybe she’d merely lacked the proper stimulus. Because right now, every part of her body was on high alert.

  Normally, the first twinge of enjoying life was followed immediately by a pang of regret. A knot of guilt in the center of her chest. Her therapist said the reaction was normal when dealing with loss.

  Normal didn’t make it any more bearable.

  Anna waited for the pang, but nothing came.

  “Do you mind?” Devlin asked.

  He’d caught her gawking. Of course he had. She was being so obvious, Pluto would notice. Her sophistication and manners had gone right out the window, and all it took was blue eyes and blue jeans.

  Wasn’t there a song about that? She’d have to look it up later. Except she didn’t have her laptop and her phone was restrictive use only. Dear God, she was word vomiting in her head again.

  His rumbling chuckle brought her back. “Is it okay?” he asked again.

  When she looked up, he was indicating toward the sink. As in, did she mind if he washed his hands.

  “Oh. No, no. Go ahead.”

  He washed up and she tried to look away, she really did. But she couldn’t.

  “I highly recommend you try the restaurant,” he finally said, turning to her, thumbs hooked into the tool belt.

  He had to be doing it on purpose. No way was anyone this attractive, this potent, without actually working his butt off to be so.

  “Not only tonight though. You need to eat there for breakfast, without question, and lunch too. As a matter of fact, I can recommend a grocery store for quick food on hand, but you’ll want to dine with us at Bradley’s pretty much any opportunity you get. You won’t regret it.” Another smile, the corners of his mouth curling up like a promise.

  Anna found herself leaning against the frame of the door for support. “You make a convincing case.”

  “I try.” He moved to get past her, and he was inches away before she realized she blocked his path.

  “Sorry.” She backed into the hall until the heel of her shoes hit the baseboard.

  “Don’t be.” He followed, stopping so he stood right in front of her.

  Silence lingered, filling the cabin with a quiet tension. Electric.

  Something was happening, though she was lost as to what exactly.

  When she was ten years old, her father took her to Caesar’s Head, and they’d gone way out on the big rock. They didn’t go to the very edge, but Anna had still felt the pull of vertigo. The downdraft of the mountain winds. The call of the edge, luring her over.

  The exact same sensation blew over her standing in the small hallway with Devlin.

  He didn’t hide his slow study of her. His gaze, like a lover’s touch, brushed her face, down her neck, pausing in the vee of her shirt. Heat spread out from the point of his focus, slipping down, between her legs, making her squeeze them together.

  She knew that look. It had to be identical to the one she’d given him while he was crouched in the bathroom floor. The difference was he hadn’t been aware of her hungry stare, but good Lord, was she ever aware of his.

  Too much time had gone by since a man had looked at her like that. The needle-toed dancers were back at her neck, twirling and tapping in tiny hot steps, her whole body lighting up.

  If, with one look, Devlin had this effect on her, what would happen when he touched her?

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Heather McGovern writes contemporary romance in swoony, Southern settings. While her love of travel and adventure takes her far, there is no place quite like home. She lives in South Carolina with her husband and son, and a collection of Legos that’s threatening to take over the house. When she isn’t writing, she’s working out, or binging on books and Netflix.

  She is a member of Romance Writers of America, as well as Carolina Romance Writers, and she’s represented by Nicole Resciniti of The Seymour Agency.

  Connect with Heather on her website HeatherMcGovernnovels.com, Facebook, Twitter, or her group blog. She’d love to hear to from you!

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