1
BRAND
I barely made it out of town with my life today. At least, that's how it felt. There was so much early Christmas cheer and smiling that it only made me want to grind my teeth.
"Can't even get a cup of coffee without someone wishing you a happy holiday around here." I muttered to myself as I carried my regular order from the bed of my truck inside the cabin. I gave it all a careful examination after unloading everything. Glad I'd stocked up. At least it meant I wouldn't have to make any more trips to town for a while. Maybe long enough to let the sickly sweet Christmas feeling dissipate and things could go back to normal.
Where people were nice, but not this... nice.
The stack of mail I'd picked up at the post office sat exactly where I'd left when I came in. Unopened. Exactly as it would stay.
There was even glitter spilling from some of the envelopes. Glitter. That shit gets all over everything. Who in their right mind would send me something with glitter on it?
I hefted the bulky bag of rice and opened it up, carefully measuring it out into secure storage containers so it would keep well until I needed it. Preserving your stores was important. And rice was a staple I could use all year long with countless meals. Easy to cook, easy to eat. Exactly how I liked my life.
Easy.
Most people wouldn't look at my cabin and consider living up here on the Ridge an easy thing. Plenty told me I was crazy when I walked away from my job in the city. Left the comfortable house I owned, the woman who liked me but didn't love me, and the men I worked with but could never fully protect.
But it was easier here. So much easier. Nobody relying on me, nobody to disappoint. Just me, minding my own business.
"And occasionally getting a cup of coffee without foam art on top." I shook my head again. It seemed a waste of time, but the guy behind the counter had seemed so proud when he handed it over. He's young, he'll learn. "It will go back to normal soon enough."
Christmas tourism hadn't been a thing when I'd moved here. In fact, the sleepy little town didn't attract many outsiders and I liked it that way. But then someone had taken over the tree farm, branded it a Christmas Wonderland and the whole town bought in. Now there were people in town every day, oohing and aahing over the cute crafts and holiday themed items, and I couldn't wait for them to leave.
A knock at my door made me stop my restless work. It was unexpected. Rarely did someone come up here, and if they did stumble upon my cabin, it's because they were lost. Hopefully, I could just point whoever this was in the right direction and send them on their way.
My boots were loud as I crossed to the front door and pulled it open. To be met with a vision I couldn't begin to decipher.
She was curvy and short, long wavy hair down to her shoulders. Her green sweatshirt had bright red words printed across her chest that loudly stated, "I PLAN TO JINGLE ALL THE WAY!" The statement automatically pulled my eyes down and it required effort for me to look elsewhere. True effort. Cataloguing the rest of her. Sensible boots, jeans that looked like they were probably flannel lined, and gloves on her hands. A warm coat.
All in all, she was dressed for the weather, rather than for style. So it was unlikely she was at risk of freezing to death on an excursion.
She gave me a bright smile, a hopeful glint in her eye, and I instantly became suspicious.
"Oh! Hi there. You are home." The greeting was cheery, but rather than relax my defenses it made me raise them even higher. Especially when she went on to add, "I'm Lydia Carnes. I think you knew my father."
2
LYDIA
The first thing I notice about Brand Rollins is how big he is. His shoulders fill up the doorway and I have to tip my head back to meet his steel gray gaze. Just like everyone described. Except that they didn't tell me he was so intense.
"Not a joiner," said Merle at the post office. "He's not rude, exactly, but doesn't make conversation either."
Ruby, when I stopped in at her namesake diner this morning, who warned, "He's a tough one. Hard as the mountain, that he is. One of these days I'll coax more than a grunt out of him with the right kind of dessert. It hasn't happened yet, but I'm not done yet. We'll see which one of us is more stubborn. Him or me."
And of course, there'd been Kate, working at her family's store when I picked up my favorite gourmet chocolate bars from her and tasted one of her experimental holiday flavors. "I don't trust anyone who doesn't like chocolate. It just seems wrong."
None of that had been enough to deter me. I had a job to do, and my father's note was clear. Brand Rollins was the only chance his legacy would live on. So here I was, standing on theporch of a mountain man I'd never met, and all I can think looking at him is, "He's gorgeous."
Gorgeous in a rugged sense. His hair is short, there's the shadow of stubble on his clenched jaw, and I can see a hint of fine lines at the corner of his eyes as he glares at me. The sleeves of his bright blue flannel shirt are rolled up to expose strong forearms and it's unbuttoned over a dark tee that leaves little about his muscular chest to the imagination.
He leans against the door frame, folding his arms across the chest I was just appreciating and waits. Silence. Like it's a weapon he's using against me. Because it is. I hate silence. How he's figured that out in less than thirty seconds I'd be interested to find out. But that's not the reason I'm here.
"My dad, Corbin Kincaid. You knew him?" I make it a question, hoping it'll be enough of an invite that he'll at least open his mouth and answer me. It's a yes or no kind of thing. The simplest way to get someone talking.
For a moment, I think I've already failed. He glowers, I hold my breath, and finally he looks away first.
