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Her slow shake of her head confirmed a tiny flicker of fear in my chest. “It started a few years ago. The cost of living increased, and more swanky people started moving here. There’s a fancy diner just twelve miles up the road, at a ski resort. More and more people have started going there, along with the bigger chain restaurants popping up now.”
My throat was tight with emotion as I pulled her into my arms. “It’s going to be okay, Mom. I promise.”
I’d make sure of that. I’d do whatever I could to help them, including making stupid deliveries up the mountain to the grump.
“What do you need me to do?”
My mom smiled, swiping at her tears. “Well, I don’t know how you’d feel about this, but I need to talk to Thomas—er, Davis—and see what the problem is. I need to know if this is going to continue so we can start making contingency plans, but I don’t have the time to go up there, and it really needs to be a conversation had in person.”
I didn’t feel great about it, but for her, I smiled and shook my head. “I don’t mind, I’ll take care of it.”
Because what else could I do?
* * *
Pullingup to his house with the sun shining down along the two-story masterpiece nearly had me rolling my eyes. It truly looked like something out of a magazine. The two beautiful huskies were out, lying lazily on the porch, soaking up the sun, just like the wildflowers near the porch and the evergreens standing like tall sentinels along his property.
I parked and lifted the back hatch, not waiting for Davis to come out. I gripped the box of goodies my mother had prepared for him, ducked my head, and started across the gravel drive. The sound of the screen door creaking open had my eyes swinging up.
I froze, mid-step.
Davis walked out, shirtless, dripping wet, wearing a pair of low hanging basketball shorts. His feet were covered by a pair of white running shoes, and the way he ran his fingers through his dark hair was making my brain short circuit.
Nothing marred his skin. Not a single tattoo or scar, from what I could tell. Just bronzed, golden skin, likely from working out in the sun. It was enough to make a reformed Davis addict fall off the wagon and pull out a notebook detailing every minuscule thing about him.
“Rae, hey…” he said, sounding breathless.
“Uh…hey.” I swallowed, and tried to regain focus. “Did you just get done with a workout or something?”
He smiled, his navy eyes working their way down my frame. It made my skin prickle with goosebumps.
“Yeah, just got off the treadmill.”
I nodded, too transfixed by the delicious V on his lower abdomen. There was no happy trail of hair leading into his shorts; it was all just bare, muscled, tan skin.
He was the grumpy, recluse Mountain Ken doll.
“You’re staring awfully hard,” he mused, with a smirk. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
Rolling my eyes, I pushed past him. “You’re justawfullypretty for a mountain man. You should have a beard and be wearing flannel. And my mother sent me.”
He followed on my trail. “I thought you liked pretty guys.”
I dropped the box on his porch and stood, turning toward him. “Who said I liked pretty guys?”
He shrugged, toying with the tips of his mussed hair.
I smiled, intrigued that he seemed to know about my dating preferences.
“Tell me.”
Firming his lips into a thin line, he dipped down to see what I had brought with me, then muttered, “I saw you out the other night with someone who looked the type. So, your mom sent a care package, huh?”
The air nearly burst from my lungs as I tried to catch up to what he’d said. “Wait a second. You—”
He grabbed the box from the porch with an audible sigh.
I was on his heels. “Did youfollowme?”
