A Mountain Man Christmas Crush (Mountain Men of Granite Junction #1)

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

A few days later, they had settled into a routine of sorts. Gene would go to the workshop after having a big breakfast with Sarah and then they would enjoy a nice dinner in the evening. Bo was thrilled with the living arrangements, spoiled rotten with table scraps and lots of belly rubs. In fact, he groaned in protest when Gene would call him to the truck in the morning and to bed at night. He was losing his dog, the creature he rescued in the woods, all to a sweet woman, a woman who was also wearing him down.

Not that he had far to go. Hell, he’d found Sarah St. James attractive from the first day he came to Granite Junction, though he knew she was entirely too young for him, and not just in years. He’d seen too much in the Marines, done too much. He’d come to Granite Junction for peace and quiet, to get away from his past. After ten years, he was comfortable here. His nightmares had become mostly infrequent now, and he’d created a new life. He’d fixed up the cabin nicely, if a little rustic, and it suited him. Well, until it burned down.

Now he was stuck in a house with a curvy temptress, who had taken him at his word and kept her distance. And somehow that pissed him off. Hearing her singing off-key as she cooked stuck in his head. Her humming as she did the dishes, because she didn’t want to bother him. And the scent of her goat soap in the shower gave him an erection at the most inconvenient times throughout the day, constantly reminding him of her all day as he worked.

He sorted through the wood in the workshop, assessing if he had enough for the custom orders he had to work on. A hard knock at the back door jerked him out of his thoughts. He opened the door to see Case Savage on the steps. Case was one of the men on Granite Junction Mountain, and one of the men in his former unit. They’d often help each other out with things around their cabins, sharing hunting and food, and skills as needed. Gene had built furniture for some of them and they helped with his cabin. Yet they were all loners and needed their space. His shoulder length dark hair was shaggy and his beard was longer for the winter. He grunted when he saw Gene, but he bent down to pet Bo and give him some loving.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be here. Seems you’ve been spending time somewhere else.”

Gene stepped aside and Case peered inside for a moment before coming in. “Been staying with Sarah St. James until I figure something out.”

“Why didn’t you reach out to one of us? You could have stayed with us.”

Gene arched a brow. “You like your space.”

Case shrugged. “We all do. Doesn’t mean we’re not there for each other.”

“I know.” And he did. But he hated to impose when he knew winter was hard enough, keeping everyone inside where thoughts intruded and it was harder to escape. “What do you got for me?”

“Checking on if you need any wood. Found a couple of trees down that you might like. Also, haven’t seen you working on the cabin yet. Wondering when you need us.”

Gene rubbed his beard. “I was going to wait until spring. Big storm coming and it looks like it’s going to be a tough winter.”

Case nodded. “True. You going to be okay in town all winter?”

He referred to the nightmares that plagued all of them. The shared history that came in the night and left marks on all of them in their own way. “Sarah’s house is quiet. I’ll manage.”

Case eyed him shrewdly for a moment. “Be careful. You need us, we’ll be there, brother.”

Gene clasped his forearm and they touched foreheads for a moment. Then they went outside to unload the truck, with Cam Miller from the leather shop next door offering a hand. Case left shortly thereafter with a final solemn look.

Gene studied the wood, almost seeing the shapes they were meant to be, yet there was an itch under his skin, a need to see Sarah. It was almost an addiction that he didn’t want to kick. Finally, he gave up working and whistled for Bo. Time to go home.

He parked his truck by the side of the house and got out, Bo hopping down after him. Instead of following him towards the house, Bo barked once and raced towards the barn and a compact figure in the fenced-in area. Sarah turned, her eyes wide and panicked. She scrambled for the open gate, closing it before the goats could escape or Bo could dart inside. Gene, however, caught up to the dog before he reached the fence and grabbed his collar.

“Sorry, Sarah. I didn’t think he’d run like that.”

She heaved a sigh of relief. “He was just excited to see me. I’m usually done with the goats by the time you get home.”

He glanced at the sky. “There’s a storm coming in. I wanted to get home before it snowed. We’re expecting several inches.”

She nodded. “I want to settle the goats before the storm.”

“Let me put Bo in the house and I’ll help you.”

They worked quickly for the next hour until the goats were bedded down with food and hay. Sarah had milked them and stored the milk while he handled the food and bedding. When they were all set, Gene strung a heavy rope from the barn to the house in case the snow was too heavy to see their way to the barn.

When they finally made their way back to the house, the snow was falling. They kicked the snow off their boots and took off their outer gear in the mudroom.

“Thanks for your help. I would have been at least another hour out there.”

“I didn’t realize you had so many goats. What do you do with all that milk?”

She headed into the kitchen and checked a pot on the stove, the heavenly smell of beef stew filling the space. “You know that lovely soap and lotion in your bathroom? Well, you might not use the lotion, but I make them. My infrequent guests love it and I sometimes sell extras to them when they leave. Adds a little something to the coffers. Every bit helps.”

He sat at the kitchen table where they’d been eating instead of the dining room, lending a bit of coziness to their connection. That wasn’t the first time she’d mentioned making money regarding the house and business. Her father, a local judge, had been a fairly wealthy man, from what Gene had remembered, and her mother had come from a well-off family in Bozeman too. So why was Sarah worried about money? She shouldn’t be thinking about that. Harold had often mentioned how he would be leaving Sarah with enough to take care of her after he was gone.

But now that he thought of it, the house was clean, but there were things that needed repairs, looking a little rundown. He hadn’t checked out the guest rooms, though he suspected those rooms were in tip-top shape, but her own family quarters were not as well-maintained. Even the barn and fencing needed updating. Goats were notorious for being able to wiggle their way out of anything, though they probably would stay close, knowing where their feed was coming from.

Guilt rode him hard for not checking in on her like he’d promised when Harold had first gotten sick. But his business had taken off, and he’d felt guilty for his feelings for Sarah. He’d used the business as an excuse to stay away, leaving her to struggle with her sick father.

Sarah placed a large bowl of hearty stew in front of him, along with a basket of freshly baked bread. The cost of food added up in his mind. “You know you don’t have to feed me every night.”

She smiled. “I told you, it’s nice to have company for dinner. It’s awfully quiet out here, especially in the winter. Besides, you’re paying rent. Meals are included.”

They ate quietly for several minutes, then, as he slowed down a bit, he studied her. “Why haven’t you married yet?”

“You sound like Dad. He was always after me to consider one of the men he’d picked for me. I almost got engaged, but then dad got sick, and I just didn’t have the time.”

He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you. I should have been. Did you have anyone?”

She sniffled, blinking rapidly against the tears in her eyes. “We got along. His friends came by in the beginning, but it was hard for them, seeing him debilitated. He got better, though. Could speak and get around after a while, but the visits slowed. No one likes a reminder of their mortality, I suppose. Della was here for us, though, and we had a caregiver. There were only so many things I could do for my father. He preferred a male nurse for certain things. By the end, the caregiver was living here full time. So that was helpful.”

“And expensive.” Was there where Harold’s money had gone? Had Sarah spent it on his care? Surely not all of it, though. “You could have put him in a home.”

“That would have killed him faster. Besides, do you know what those places cost? Far cheaper to keep him home where he loved it. No, we managed mostly.”

“But you lost your youth.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “I thought I was a little girl. Now I’ve lost my youth? Which is it, Gene?”

He wasn’t exactly sure what to say, but somehow Sarah wasn’t the silly young girl with a schoolgirl crush on him anymore. He wasn’t sure that she even had a crush on him anymore or was even attracted to him anymore as he was to her, but things had definitely shifted between them and he wasn’t sure what that meant.

“Never mind,” she laughed. “Now that we’ll probably be stuck here for a few days, you can catch up on your reading or your television, provided we don’t lose satellite.”

He’d seen the chess set in the living room, the one he’d carved for her father one Christmas, still set up in front of the fireplace as if someone was getting ready to play a match. He used to stop by a couple times a week and play with Harold and catch up on things, with Sarah curled up on a chair, reading and watching them. It had been years now, but the set looked ready for another match. He hadn’t played since then and found he missed it. He could hide out in his room, or he could take a chance.

“Would you want to play a game of chess?”

Her eyes lit up with pure pleasure.

* * *

S arah remembered those nights when Gene would come over for dinner and a few matches of chess with her father. She would always curl up with a book and spend more time watching them than reading. After Gene stopped coming around, she started playing with her father and loved it. They played almost every night until her father couldn’t any longer and she missed it. She kept the board up as a reminder, painful as it was, and many guests commented on it, though few actually played it.

Now she was getting her dream. To play a game with Gene in front of that same fire. Maybe Christmas wishes did come true. Gene built up the fire while she made hot chocolate with loads of whipped cream. He probably wanted a beer or something stronger, but she didn’t have any in the house, though she had some Bailey’s if he wanted a kick in his hot chocolate, though it might be too girly for his tastes. As a last-minute addition, she put the bottle of vanilla and cinnamon cream liquor on the tray and headed into the sitting area and chess set where the fire was roaring.

He stood in front of it, looking at the pictures displayed on the wood beam mantle. “This is a great picture of your dad. At the hunting cabin, right?”

She put the tray down next to the chess set and walked over to see the picture. “Yes, with Douglas Rawlings, Milt Silvers, and Hank Vincent, Jo’s dad. Hank owns a fishing and hunting guide business, so he used to take them out all the time.”

“Why did he stop going to the cabin?”

She shrugged. “Douglas died, but dad stopped long before that, really. Milt got too old and mom had passed. He just lost interest. In a lot of things.”

He looked at the tray and raised an eyebrow. She followed his gaze. “What? I like a little something with my hot chocolate. I might be able to scare up something stronger and more manly, though it might be a few years old.”

He grunted and sat down. “I rarely drink.”

She grinned. “You’ll like this. It will add a little flavor to your hot chocolate and make the game go better.” She poured a generous portion in each of their mugs and took a sip, then sighed. “That’s the stuff.”

He eyed her doubtfully. “You trying to get me drunk and take advantage?”

She laughed. “Not even close. Maybe make you play a little worse, so I have a snowball’s chance in hell. I’m a little rusty.”

He took a sip. “Not bad. I haven’t played since I came here with your dad, so you might be better than you think.”

The first game didn’t take long, and Sarah held her breath when she said, “Checkmate.”

She braced herself for his reaction, but he only studied the board and grunted. “You have Harold’s skill. Another one?”

“That’s it?”

He stared at her. “What did you expect? You won and I want a rematch. Harold wasn’t a sore loser.”

“No, dad most often bested me but celebrated when I won. I just wasn’t sure how you’d handle being beaten by a woman.”

He shrugged and reset the board. He then got up and put a couple more logs on the fire. He settled in his seat. “You’re a worthy opponent, Sarah. Be proud of your win.”

She felt her face flush, warmed by more than the Baileys and the fire. She’d been trying so hard to give him the space he’d asked for, to suppress her crush and not chase him off. Only having Gene close had only made her fall even further for him. Having him around for dinners, breakfasts, and in the evening was comforting, made Sarah sleep much easier. She only wished she could share his bed, even once. But that wasn’t to be. He kept a firm distance between them, retreating to his room after dinner and leaving first thing in the morning. This was the first night he was home early and spent time with her. She had to think things were looking up.

She refilled her mug with more hot chocolate and an extra generous helping of liquor in celebration.

They played three more games, and the night ended with a draw, each winning two games each. She blamed the liquor for clouding her judgement in the last two games, since it took Gene only a handful of moves to defeat her, though she knew the truth. She was mesmerized by the man across from her, finally having him in her home all to herself.

Sarah slumped in her chair and stared at the board. “And here I was thinking I had gotten better. Pride goeth before a fall, I suppose.”

Gene reset the board carefully, avoiding her eyes. “Chess can go either way, depending on the strategy. You play very well. Did you play with Harold every night?”

She nodded and tipped back the last of her third cup, or maybe fourth, of hot chocolate, though it stopped being hot chocolate after the third game and was purely vanilla cinnamon Baileys now. Yummy.

“Yes, we played almost every night as long as he felt up to it. Towards the end, we moved the board to his room when he wasn’t able to come down here. We spent many nights playing.”

She laid her head against the back of the chair and stared out the window. “The snow looks beautiful, doesn’t it? I love how bright and clean everything looks at night when it snows. And it’s so quiet. Sometimes I go outside and stand there and just watch it fall, especially when there’s a full moon.”

She turned to look at him, a brilliant idea coming to her. “Let’s go outside for a minute. See the snow fall. Please?”

Without waiting for his response, she scrambled to her feet and the room suddenly tilted a bit to the side. How many hot chocolates had she drank?