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 Chapter One

Adrian

 

Maybe if I hadn’t been so tired, I would have caught the signs before it was too late. 

I would have turned on a light, for one thing. Or kept my shirt on. I would have seen her bag by the door and the bowl of half-eaten oatmeal on the table. 

I would have seen her in the bed before I nearly laid right on top of her. 

But then, I would never have been in a stand-off with a beautiful blonde stranger in my cabin while she held my mom’s cowboy figurine in my direction like she was going to defend herself with it should the need arise. 

“Who are you?” she demanded.

Lifting my hands in surrender, I hesitated. I wasn’t exactly at my best. I needed to clear my head before this went any further.

It was time to press pause and back things up a bit. 

​

Fifteen Minutes Earlier

​

The farther I drove, the deeper my dread grew. My family’s cabin was the last place I wanted to be, but after hanging out with the guys, Mom had sprung her nasty little surprise on me—and it got to me.

I had to get out of there. To think. To search.

Bad memories, awkward conversations, and experiences I’d suppressed for years—they were all rearing their annoying heads at the sight of every new tree.

To anyone else, I was sure the view here was spectacular. All I saw were the arguments and disappointments that made me leave in the first place. All the reasons I should have known better than to expect any kind of inheritance after Dad’s passing.

So to find out that inheritance had actually been granted—but that it was missing?

Yeah. I wasn’t about to wait around back at the ranch. How could I sleep and wait until morning to look for it? I knew the answer; I wouldn’t have been able to rest. Not until I got to the bottom of this.

Dad had rarely reached out to me in any way other than in admonishment. Though I knew better, part of me hoped that this lockbox he’d bequeathed to me might actually be different. Part of me hoped that it might hold something in it that could help me see him in a different light. 

I mean, he was gone now. I didn’t want to keep resenting him. 

A haze shrouded over my mind. Weariness trickled from the top of my skull, along my forehead, and down into my eyes, which began to droop. 

I gripped the steering wheel and shook myself. The smartness of my spontaneous action was fading—fast. 

It was nearly midnight, and I was tired.

I was tempted to turn back, catch a few Zs, and come again in the morning when it made more sense—when I was in a better mental state rather than braving the winding mountain roads half-asleep. But I’d already come this far. In fact, I was fairly certain I’d be at the cabin within minutes. 

Whether it was the middle of the night or not, I didn’t need any kind of direction to tell me I was almost there. It’d been years since I’d been to the cabin, but the way there was instinctive. The truth was, I could probably find it in my sleep.

Not that I wanted to test that theory. This car was new.

The road widened momentarily. A single cab, white Toyota pickup was pulled off to the side. The sight was just what I needed. My curiosity blinked, rousing me enough to keep me awake. The truck was abandoned from the look of things, unless someone was having car trouble. 

I pulled to a stop beside the pickup and glanced around. No one was in sight. The hood wasn’t gaped open. Maybe someone had picked up whoever this person was, and they’d be coming back for the vehicle in the morning.

This particular route was popular with off-roaders and mountain bikers. If it wasn’t the middle of the night, I would have thought they’d hauled their bikes from the truck bed and were out enjoying the scenery. Maybe they were camping.

Whatever the case, I shrugged it off and pulled back onto the road until I saw the dirt road in the trees, so often missed by passersby. It was a good thing I’d seen it—the exhaustion wearing on my eyes was getting heavier. 

The road turned from pavement to dirt. I braced myself through the bumpy jaunt that led to my least favorite place in the world. 

I shook my head a few more times to remain coherent enough to make it to the cabin’s driveway. Though the road leading there wasn’t paved, the driveway was. 

The Hummer I’d bought when I’d come back for the funeral took to the road better than I expected. An SUV wasn’t typically the kind of car I drove—I tended to prefer something a little sportier—but its military style was dope. I liked its massive storage and comfortable driver’s seat, too.

Lofty and solemn, the cabin came into view through a break in the trees. The exposed logs were stacked perfectly. Though right now they were shadowed, I knew come morning they would glow in the sunlight.

Something hitched in my chest, but I did my best to disregard it. It was the same indignant, stubborn resentment I’d experienced every time I’d come here. 

You’d think with Dad gone now, the bitter feelings would leave, too. But no, they were still as insistent as ever. 

Mom had told me about the lockbox at the worst possible time. The guys had all come into town for our reunion. It wasn’t official Sigma Phi Rho business—even though each of us had been part of the fraternity. It was just a bunch of old friends getting together. 

They were the closest friends I’d had during college. We’d kept in touch during the past ten years since I graduated, but with each of us venturing off to start our own businesses, we hadn’t hung out in I wasn’t sure how long. 

Dad’s passing had been the catalyst for that, at least. They’d come to hang out, to show their condolences at the loss of my father. Since they hadn’t been able to come for the actual funeral, we made a boys’ trip out of it. 

And I’d ditched out on them to come here. 

I could have waited until the morning to search for the lockbox, but after having Mom nag me enough about Danica, home was the last place I wanted to be.

I needed a break. I needed some time to think. I needed to find that lockbox.

But first, I needed some sleep.

Once I found Dad’s lockbox, I was heading down as quickly as the speed limit and mountain switchbacks allowed. The boys and I had some catching up to do before they all had to get back. 

Not only was the fundraiser creeping ever closer that evening as well—a fundraiser Mom insisted I find a date for—but my flight home was scheduled for the next day, after I went golfing with the guys and hit up the fundraiser.

That didn’t give me much time. I had to find it.

I parked the blue Hummer, killed the ignition, and stepped out. It was just after midnight. The forest air was crisp, fresh with the hint of pine and the promise of seclusion.

At least there was that.

I craned my neck and rubbed my eyes. My legs thanked me for letting them straighten again after being bent for the last hour. The cabin greeted me, offering its porch and staring without judgment. An owl hooted nearby, and I stood for several moments, staring right back.

It wasn’t the cabin’s fault for the bad memories. It’d just been Dad’s laser-like way of asking uncomfortable questions, backing me into proverbial corners, all while slathering on his paternal disappointment.

Dad had never seemed to grasp the real point behind family vacations. Who needed a getaway to enjoy time together? He’d seen them as another opportunity to lambast me about all the ways I’d failed him.

This at least was no “vacation.” I was only here to search. I wasn’t sure where the lockbox would be—stashed in one of the cupboards or cabinets, maybe. Then I’d be on my way back.

Not to Two Pines. Back to Chicago, to the life where I belonged.

But first, I was going to crash and enjoy the blessed peace that came from being completely alone.

The owl hooted again, and a soft breeze brushed across my arms. Twigs and brush crackled beneath my feet as I made my way to the door. I unlocked the door, turned the handle, and went inside.

The prospect of sleep was too strong to ignore. I was so depleted I could hardly think straight. I didn’t bother turning on any lights but kicked my shoes off as I made my way down the dark hall, grateful for the moonlight spilling in.

Sleep hounded my eyes. I shed my jacket and yanked at the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head and chucking it to the floor. I was too drained to do much else besides feel my way into my room.

I paused near the edge of the bed. Setting my phone on the bedside table, I sat on the side of the mattress, ready to succumb to my body’s demand for rest.

Except…

A soft form rolled against me. 

Silky hair trailed against my arm, drifting a vanilla scent in my direction. Before I knew what was happening, my hand brushed against something, and reality struck:

I wasn’t the only one in here.

Everything in me fired with awareness. The imposter released a drowsy, confused moan. A female moan. She rustled for a moment before she froze and sat up.

“What the heck?” she said in her groggy voice.

“Whoa.” I startled to my feet.

Finding a woman in my bed was the last thing I expected. 

I attempted to retreat, but I didn’t get far before she screamed and vaulted a pillow at my face. My foot caught on something I couldn’t see, tripping me in the process so I landed hard against the floor. 

The woman wailed again, released a shriek, and scampered past me toward the door.

I couldn’t let her leave—not until I knew what was going on here. But what was I going to do, grab her by the ankles?

Freeing myself, I hurried to my feet and followed her. Fortunately, I knew this place better than she did because she faltered at the end of the hall, arms outstretched, peering right and left.

I dove for the switch, and light flooded the cabin’s living room, making her lift an arm as though to block it out.

Eyes squinted, she pivoted. Her frantic gaze darted from the plaid curtains blocking the windows, to the wooden shelves staged with books, to the empty fireplace. Then, her eyes slowly climbed from my bare chest to my face.

A small fire erupted in the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t sure what to expect. It’d been dark so I’d had no idea if she was older? Younger? A homeless person who’d wandered through the forest—on foot?

But no—this woman was beautiful, with wide, shocked eyes and a heart-shaped face. Like a sunrise casting its light over a shrouded valley, she was just plain alluring. 

I didn’t know her at all, but at the sight of her all disheveled and in a large t-shirt almost as long as her shorts—that showed off admittedly great legs—a dormant wick inside of me caught the tiniest flame. 

Her hands went to her rumpled blonde hair, which tufted up away from her head and made her look that much more appealing. As if realizing she looked like someone had just given her a dozen noogies, her mouth hung open in embarrassment. 

But that didn’t last long. Her eyes flicked over my bare chest once more, taking in the lines of me, and then her expression hardened. Her face gritted in determination.

And I had no idea what she was thinking.

Not many people knew about this cabin. How did she? Did she somehow know about Dad’s missing lockbox?

My shirt was a lump on the floor. Wanting to be as collected for this confrontation as I could be, I bent for it and slipped it back on. 

She watched me as I pulled the fabric over my abs, smoothing it down to my jeans, and I couldn’t tell if her eyes narrowed because she liked what she saw or because of something else. 

The thought jammed my heart into my ears.

What did I care if she liked what she saw? It wasn’t like this was some kind of awkward blind date or like I asked her to be with me here. 

I crossed my arms over my chest and took her in with what I hoped was more of a circumspect outlook. More of a figuring-out objective. 

That was a mistake, however, because the more I looked, the more I liked what I saw.

She was gorgeous. Her blue eyes were sharp and fringed with dark lashes. Her nose was straight and pert. She tucked her full lips between her teeth and straightened her shoulders, clearing her throat. 

There was something about seeing a woman unkempt like this, with her hair messy, with her baggy shirt and bare legs. She was in her twenties, I’d guess, with golden blonde hair draping down her shoulders.

She lifted her hands as though she expected me to spring on her any moment. Her eyes skimmed over me with wariness, and I couldn’t say I blamed her for her distrustful scrutiny. 

She wondered about me?

That was nothing to the curiosity I had about her. 

I had to find out what she was doing here—and what I was going to do about it.

 

 

Chapter Two

Goldie

 

Bottle rockets exploded under my skin. Of course, the one and only time I break the law, it had to be to enter a cabin belonging to a psychopath. An attractive psychopath who stared at me with caution and question marks in his eyes.

I braced myself, ready for his next move. I was shaking in my skin. Though my eyes had adjusted to the change in the light and the front door was right there, waiting for me to dart through it, I was barefooted. And in my delirium, I couldn’t remember where I’d chucked my shoes or my bag the night before.

If I were going to be making a mad escape into a darkened, potentially wolf-ridden forest, shoes might be nice.

So I met my intruder’s gaze, waiting for my whirring thoughts to settle on the next action I should take. 

He took a step toward me. Not happening. 

I dove for the figurine of a cowboy riding a horse and raising his hat with one hand sitting on the table. Sure enough, it was heavy. It could do some damage. 

I held it toward the man, who lifted his hands.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” His tone suggested that the notion was absurd.

“Who are you?” I demanded.

He was beguilingly handsome, with dark hair and a chiseled jawline hugged by well-trimmed scruff. And though he was wearing jeans and socks and was now completely dressed, he’d been shirtless. 

So very shirtless.

I’d gaped at the fine contours of his body, the breadth of his shoulders, the lines of muscle along his arms, and the definition in his abs a little too long—mostly because it felt like my brain was slowly oozing out of my ears. He was broad and beautiful, and I hadn’t been able to help the way my heart took charge and pounded all the way through my body.

Was he a firefighter? A hockey player? Just how did a man go about getting that ripped?

Whatever. What did that even matter? 

So he was hot. Did he think he could barge into any woman’s personal space anytime he felt like it?

Except it technically wasn’t my personal space…

My cheeks flamed. Oh, my sweet goodness. When I broke in here, I never imagined anything like this.

“Who are you?” I said again, lifting a hand to my cheek, hoping I wasn’t beet red.

He flicked his tangled dark hair back. “I should ask you the same question, since this is my family’s cabin. Did Jordan tell you this was here? Did he give you a key?”

I had no clue who Jordan was. I had to keep the upper hand in this conversation—as much as I could, anyway.

Those abs had been far, far too distracting. And don’t even get me started on his biceps.

“Do you often get into bed with women you don’t know?”

“This is my cabin, remember? And you were sleeping in my bed. I didn’t know you were there, or I would never have—” 

He shook himself. From the way he clenched his fists, I got the feeling he was working hard to keep himself in check.

“Look,” he said, tempering his voice. “I’m not going to hurt you. Let’s just get to the bottom of this. Would you put that down?”

He gestured to the figurine in my hands. It was getting heavy.

“Please,” he added.

I considered. Chances were, he was telling the truth. If anything, I’d been the one to catch him off guard. 

Now that my brain was starting to connect the pieces of the situation, I saw things differently. He’d obviously come home to sleep after a long day and hadn’t expected to find me in his spot.

Talk about embarrassing. “Caught in the act” took on a whole new meaning.

The events of a few moments ago rushed in with all the force of a hammer. What was I doing behaving so defensively when, in all reality, he should be the one feeling threatened by me?

Deciding it was better to give him the benefit of the doubt, I nodded and lowered the figurine back to its spot.

The man ran a hand through his hair, displaying his left bicep and its godlike proportions to their full advantage. My internal temperature hiked up a few more notches.

“Who are you?” he asked, resting that hand on his hip.

I stared in a daze. If an artist out there attempted to create the perfect man, he would fit the bill. From the striking features, the confident way he carried himself, even the way his hand rested against his hip, he was flawlessly formed. 

Part of me wondered if I was still dreaming. He and his chiseled contours were definitely the stuff of dreams. Honestly, how many men out there looked like he did?

I needed to stop ogling him, stat.

“What are you doing in my cabin?” he asked, persisting even though I hadn’t answered his first question.

I hugged my chest and chided myself for losing my senses completely. He’s just a man. He was a stranger, for that matter. 

Let’s not get carried away here. 

“I’m so sorry to have imposed. I got lost last night and had no cell service.” 

I patted my pockets in a quiet search, wishing that I had my phone with me right now. Along with the foggy inability to recollect where my shoes had gone, I couldn’t remember where my phone had ended up, either. 

He sank onto the couch’s armrest. “That white Toyota?”

I considered fabricating something, but honesty was probably best at this point. Honesty—and groveling, too. After all, I had trespassed into his turf.

“Is mine. Yes,” I said, thinking of my abandoned truck outside. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t know what else to do. I saw your cabin just as the sun was setting and thought maybe you could help me. But then it got dark, and no one was here and I—I was only going to stay until morning, I swear.”

It was all true. My GPS had led me completely off course. The only thing I knew for sure was that I was in Middle of Nowhere, Montana.

In a spurt of frustration, I’d pulled off on a shoulder that was only, oh, you know, two feet away from the sharpest drop-off I’d ever seen. I’d had no cell service, the line on my gas tank was getting low, and darkness had been coming fast. 

But I’d seen his cabin. Leaving my truck on the roadside, I’d broached the forest on the way to it, hoping to ask for some help. 

But no one was here. And by then, it was too dark to see where my truck was to make my way back to it. 

Night noises had freaked me out...and the cabin door had opened when I tried it…

I’d felt safe in here. So I resolved to stay the night and wait until morning. 

I know; it sounded awful. But I’d vowed to leave everything like I found it. That the owners would never even know I was here. 

If that wasn’t the worst wishful thinking, I didn’t know what was.

The man watched me with the most intense brown eyes. I held my breath, waiting for his verdict. 

I’d broken in and slept in his property. He should be calling the police, assuming he had cell service with which to do so.

He rubbed his jaw and then rested his hands on his knees, angling his head to the side as if considering the circumstance from all points. It struck me how tired he looked.

“Either you’re an extremely good actress, or your remorse is genuine. I’m guessing you’re no burglar.”

I swallowed. “I’m not. I’m so not. And did I mention I was sorry?”

“It’s okay,” he said after several moments.

I tucked my hair behind my ear, clamped my arms around me, and stared at him. Did he just say what I think he did? I broke into his place, stole his bed—and it was okay?

He cleared his throat and gestured to the window behind me. “I saw your truck out there. I wondered if you were having some car trouble.”

“More like navigational trouble.”

He shifted on the arm rest, resting a hand on his thigh. I skimmed his face again, noticing the dark circles under his eyes. He stifled a yawn behind his hand and rose to his feet. 

“What’s your name?”

“Goldie,” I said. I owed him this much. “I’m Goldie Bybanks.”

He nodded, crossed to me, and offered his hand.

It would be rude to deny this friendly gesture, wouldn’t it? Steeling my nerves, I slid my small hand into his larger one. A rush coursed through me at the touch.

His skin was soft. His grip was strong.

“Adrian,” he said. 

His gaze locked onto mine, and I found myself lost in an entirely different way in the curious gleam of his brown eyes, the length of his dark lashes, the tempting shape of his lips.

“Hi,” I said stupidly. 

A smile crept into place, responding to the tractor beam his gaze held me in.

I fluttered inside. Genuine, legit butterflies took flight in my stomach.

Adrian held my hand a little longer than necessary before freeing his and stepping back. 

“Goldie. It’s late.”

“It is.”

“It’s been a long day, and I’m not firing on all cylinders. I’m assuming you’re not an ax murderer.”

The quirk in his lips gave me permission to return the expression. “I’m not.”

He blinked. Tiredness glazed over his eyes, and he rubbed his jaw again. “Good. Me neither. So can we both get some sleep and continue this in the morning? You can go ahead and sleep in my—” He cleared his throat. “Where you were. I’ll take one of the other rooms.”

Heat patched my cheeks. “Oh, but it’s your room—”

“I’ll be fine. Go on now. I’ll get the lights.”

I was stymied. A glance at the clock over the fireplace told me it was nearing one a.m. 

Not having many other options, I gave him a little nod. “All right, then. Good night, Adrian.”

“Good night.”

The low rumble of his voice stayed with me the entire trek down the hall and into the room we’d vacated. Shaking my head over the inanity of it all, I exhaled.

The blankets were completely thrashed, so I did what I could to straighten them before climbing back in and feeling like a completely different person now than I’d been when I’d done the same thing a few hours before.

I nestled my head into the pillow. The room now held the faintest traces of him—masculinity and musk and soul-melting catnip. Or rather, Goldie-nip. It was as though his scent was a force field tailored to charm me and only me.

My body gradually melted into the sheets. I hugged the thick, downy blanket to my chin, hearing Adrian’s soft footsteps, before the lights went out in the hall and everything went quiet.

It was a long time before I fell asleep, though—mostly because I kept anticipating exactly what was going to happen the next day once we were both more coherent.

And also hoping he wasn’t an ax-murderer, either.

Morning would come soon enough. He hadn’t said anything about pressing charges…yet…but was I going to have a rude awakening?