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Tina nodded. “Yeah, he’s up at his mountain house getting ready for spring.”
“What does that mean?”
She shrugged. “Chopping wood. Throwing axes. You know, mountain man shit.”
“Mountain man shit?”
She nodded. “Mountain man shit.”
I gulp as I turn my car around the bend and see the steep incline. Mr. Wallis’ house is near the top of the mountain and surrounded by thick forest. It’s the end of March in Montana on one of those gorgeous spring days that let you know summer is around the corner. The snow is melting off the trees, giving everything a glistening look while the sun shines high in the sky.
The fluttery feeling in my gut gets stronger the higher I drive.
I’ve heard a few things about Mr. Wallis since I started working at the lodge. Apparently, he keeps to himself and is a bit of a recluse. He likes nature more than people, but the thing that really has me curious is his looks.Everyonesays that he’s gorgeous. Like in the top one percent of hotness. That shouldn’t matter or change anything, but it’s still got me a little curious.
I just wish I was driving up here to give him good news. Instead, I have to let him know that I set the reception area on fire, comped the Aspen Suite without permission, gave a guest a full refund, burnt an adorable little girl’s favorite pair of mittens, and the icing on the cake is that the lodge is probably going to get a one-star review inTheLuxury Traveller Magazine. Not the first impression I was hoping for.
“No,” I whisper to myself when I see the roof of his house peeking out of the trees in the distance. My foot moves to the brake and pushes down.
I stay here for a few seconds with my heart pounding until I get a hold of myself and continue on.
His house is amazing. Freakingamazing.
It’s a stunning log mansion with huge windows and a giant wrap-around balcony. The view from up there must be incredible. You can probably see all of Montana. I would kill to see the inside, but as soon as I tell him the shitty news, he’s probably going to immediately send me packing back down the road.
I pull up beside his big, expensive-looking black truck and turn off my engine.
“You can do this,” I whisper to my reflection in the rearview mirror. “You’re a strong confident businesswoman. You got this.”
I step out of the car and walk to the house with my shoulders back and my chin up, projecting the confidence that I’m not really feeling at the moment.
The hum of rock music and the rhythmic thunk of an ax slamming into wood every few seconds rings out from behind the house. I fix my hair and walk around to check it out.
That’s when I see him.
Owen Wallis.
My mouth drops as I stare at him in awe. I go numb all over.That’sMr. Wallis?That’smy boss?
The man is standing outside in the snow shirtless. He balances a log on the chopping block, brings the ax up, and then slams it down hard. The log explodes apart.
He’s listening to Nine Inch Nails. I recognize it because my sister went through a phase when that’s all she would listen to.
The song finishes andClosercomes on. That sexy bass vibrates through my body as I watch him split another long.
He still hasn’t seen me. Maybe because he’s so focused on the job, or maybe it’s because I’m hiding behind the house and peeking out like a Peeping Tom.
My eyes roam all over his hard muscular body. It’s perfect. A big muscular chest, massive arms, sexy round shoulders, a chiseled six-pack. He’s wearing old faded jeans with no belt. They hang low on his hips showing off the hard V carved into his pelvis and a hint of pubic hair. No underwear for Mr. Wallis, I see.
His legs look like he hikes up the mountain every day with a refrigerator on his back. They’re so muscular and thick, filling out those jeans nicely.
He bends over and grabs a log. His jeans slip down an inch, showing a little bit of ass and my breath quickens. I never thought I’d be turned on by a butt crack, but here we are. This is no middle-aged plumber butt crack though, this one is special.
God, his back is a work of art. It’s shaped like a V with hard rippling muscles that clench and tighten with every movement he makes. I can’t take my eyes off him.
He’s covered in tattoos, but it’s not too much. It’s just right. They start at his wrists and continue up his beautiful arms, finishing around his massive shoulders. The sexy tattoo continues up the left side of his neck, which I normally don’t approve of, but this man can get away with anything. He’s got the rare level of hotness where anything would suit him.
He splits another log as the sexy song slides into the chorus. My pulse races as he shoves the ax into the chopping block with athunkand grabs the whiskey bottle on the ground beside him. He takes a long swig and I swallow hard as I watch his chest and abs clench and flex. He wipes his mouth with his wrist as the heat swirling around my core moves between my legs. It begins to throb as I get a good look at his face.
