The Haunting of the Mountain (Mountain Men of Whispering Winds #9)

3. Kyla

Chapter 3

Kyla

I shouldn’t.

I stare at the flannel shirts hanging in the closet. I’ve been looking at them for a few minutes, feeling the well-worn but comfortable fabric. I’d been warned by one of the locals at the Inn that I shouldn’t wear a mountain man’s flannel during a storm. When pressed, she simply raised her left hand, brandishing a gorgeous ring.

It’s all local legend. Nothing to it. But I am investigating the strange things that happen here. Leave no stone unturned.

Goosebumps flare across my body as I think about Stone. He’s like no man I’ve met. Sure, he was a little scary at first sight. What woman wouldn’t be scared by a giant, shadowy figure as wide and tall as a door barging into your legally rented cabin sometime after midnight?

But once he got his hands on me. Once I saw him in the light and not the version my imagination had created, I came around. Boy have I come around…

The man is gorgeous. Handsome. Although a little rough around the edges, I can’t help but find myself drawn to him. His name suits him. I swear he’s equal parts man and mountain with a body carved from one of the peaks I saw from town.

And his beard. Phew . I never knew I had a thing for beards until I met Stone. Dark with streaks of white. Big and grizzled. I wonder what it would feel like to thread my fingers through it. I wonder how his muscles would feel, dragging my tongue across them.

Whew .

These thoughts are crazy, but I can’t help but have them as I peruse the flannels for a few more moments, settling on the emerald green.

“Okay…” I mutter, holding it against my body.

The shirt could be used as a damn tablecloth. A parachute. A sail for a boat. Okay, maybe not but this thing is huge. I consider putting it back but then I catch a whiff of it and there’s no way. I bring it to my face and start huffing it. Huffing it. What am I doing? Okay, one last— oh my god!

It smells like evergreens. Hints of spice and wood and man. Wow. I wasn’t a believer in the local legend, but I’m coming around to it. This. Is. Crazy. I just met the man. His name is Stone. None of this makes sense.

I collapse on the bed, trying to understand what’s happening as I hear Stone on the other side of the door.

He knocks.

My pulse pounds.

“Kyla?”

God, that voice. It’s so deep and raspy. I feel it more than I hear it.

“Yes?” I say, trying to stay calm.

“I’ve got some bandages for you. I need to check out that leg.”

I glance at my bare leg. It’s scraped, but it’s not too bad. A little tender, but nothing serious.

“Okay,” I say without thinking.

The door starts rattling and my eyes flare. I’m damn near naked.

“Wait!”

The rattling stops.

“I’ll be out in a minute. I hope you don’t mind if I wear one of your flannels.”

There’s a long pause. “Not at all.” A few more beats and then I feel him leave, his footfalls shaking the floor with every step.

A few minutes later, I make my way out of the bedroom, swimming in his flannel. I cinched a belt around my waist and it almost looks like a dress, but not really. I like it though.

“Jesus,” Stone rasps when he turns around.

My body lights up when I see the look on his face, devouring me from head to toe with his dark green eyes. And then again when he drops what he’s holding. He’s checking me out and I like it.

I pad slowly to him, relishing the heat from his gaze. I’m not sure I need that wood stove if Stone keeps looking at me like that.

“Suits you better than me,” he says gruffly.

I finger the fringe of the sleeves. “I find that hard to believe. I’m swimming in it.”

He swallows, makes a guttural noise, and then takes my hand.

Butterflies. A whoosh feeling, like I’ve been dropped from a skyscraper. I’m dizzy from a single touch. It makes me wonder how I’d react from a kiss. I clear my throat, coming back to my senses as Stone guides me to a chair in the kitchen.

“What’s that smell?”

Stone kneels in front of me, eyeing my scrapes before turning back to me. Wow. His mossy green eyes have flecks of gold. And they’re making my chest and stomach constrict as I hold their gaze.

“Dessert,” he says, gruffly. “Somebody ate the cobbler I had saved in the freezer.”

Ice… all over my body. Whelp…

“Could’ve been the ghost.”

He snorts. “Ghost?”

“Yeah, the lumberjack ghost.”

God, I feel so weird for saying that. Ouija board, candles, and now a lumberjack ghost? I’m done for.

“That who you were trying to summon?”

He’s more interested than I expected.

“Kinda.”

He takes my leg in his hands, firm and callused as he inspects it. I’m icy no longer, burning up all over again.

“Just the scrape?” he asks, eyeing the length of my leg before taking my foot in his hand and manipulating it.

“My ankle’s a little tender.”

He grunts and then turns, grabbing some ointment and a few bandages from a bag. “So you’re a friend of Wes?” he asks, applying some of the ointment to my wound.

“Wes?” I ask, trying to focus on something other than the way his hands feel, but it’s a losing battle.

“My nephew.”

I shake my head. “No. I’ve never met him before.”

He seems to relax, but then he tenses up all over again when I tell him, “My friend rented this place for the weekend.”

“Not staying here long, then?”

I thought I wasn’t staying here once Stone came on the scene. But his voice sounds urgent, pleading almost. And there’s a shift in his eyes. I’m probably imagining it all. Reading into something that isn’t there as the sexiest man I’ve ever met rubs my leg.

I swallow. “No. Your nephew told us this cabin was haunted. I guess we were scammed.”

“I’m going to talk with him,” Stone says, averting his gaze from mine as he begins bandaging my leg.

“You don’t have to. I’ve caused you enough trouble. Now that I know it’s not haunted, I’ll get out of your hair. I can investigate the Inn instead.”

Stone’s grip tightens around my leg, and I squeak.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Sorry.”

He rubs my calf and I’m feeling more than better.

“Didn’t say this place isn’t haunted.”

I smile. “So you’re saying it is?”

He wraps a soft gauze around my leg, holding the bandage in place before taping it up. His fingertips, deft and strong, graze the bandage, and an urge to take them into my mouth rockets through me. The desire to feel them wrapped around my throat. Drag across my body. Phew. This is crazy.

I let out a long, soft breath. This isn’t foreplay. This isn’t a prelude to what I’d like to come. But I can’t ignore how it’s working me up.

“Could be,” he says finally, meeting my eyes again. His smile makes my lungs seize and my stomach flip. “Experienced some strange things here.”

“Yeah?” I say, somewhat annoyed as he removes his hand from my leg and stands up. “Would you mind if I interviewed you for my podcast?”

God, I’m an idiot. At least it feels that way the moment the words leave my mouth.

He lets out a soft chuckle as he heads over to the stove.

“Podcast?”

“It’s like a radio show.”

“I know what a podcast is,” he says in a way that I know he’s smiling.

I sigh. “Of course.” I don’t know what to say because every time I open my mouth something silly comes out.

“Tell me about it,” he says, turning around with two small bowls.

He sets one down in front of me and I realize that these bowls are not, in fact, small. They’re the size of my damn head and filled with an assortment of berries, graham crackers, and cream.

Okay, mountain man.

“After you tell me about this. What is it?”

He smiles. I flutter. I should be annoyed with how this man can elicit a response from my body with something so simple, but I’m not. I want more.

“Some berries. Sugar. Orange juice and spices. It’s a dessert my mom used to make me and my brothers. Added some graham crackers for a bit of a crunch. And I don’t think I’ve met a person who doesn’t like whipped cream.”

He drags his finger across the rim of his bowl, swiping off some of the cream before taking it into his mouth.

Dear. Lord.

“I love your cream— uh —whipped cream. Love it. Big fan.”

I need to stop opening my mouth unless it’s to eat. I pick up my spoon, trying to ignore the blaze burning all over my body as Stone stares at me.

“Wow,” I moan. “This is delicious.”

I lick my lips, my spoon, and then go in for another bite. When I look at Stone, he seems to be the one who’s heated, clutching his spoon as his mouth hangs open.

Mmm.

“Usually have it with pancakes. Waffles.” He clears his throat, setting his spoon down. “But I haven’t re-stocked in Whispering Winds in a while.”

He takes a long drag from his mug, and I do the same, washing the sweetness down with peppermint tea.

“Have you lived here long?”

“All my life.” He takes a spoonful of berries into his mouth, flecks of cream on his beard. The thought of brushing it off with my finger crosses my mind, but I swallow it with another sip of tea.

“I was born right over there,” he says, gesturing behind me as I nearly spew tea all over his table.

He laughs. “We’ve cleaned up since then.”

“Of course,” I mutter, my cheeks flushing all over again. “I was born at home too, a few weeks early. My mom says I’ve always been impatient.”

He smiles, and I feel a little bit better.

“Born here. Still live here. It’s rare to find someone who’s lived in the same place for so long. You must love it here.”

His eyes light up. “My favorite place.”

He takes a sip of his tea and I take another bite of his delicious compote. I’m surprised, but it gives that cobbler a run for its money. Stone knows how to cook.

“Whispering Winds is a great town too. Best cobbler in the world, but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you,” he says, a knowing smile crossing his lips. “Now this place might be a little haunted, but I’ve never had food go missing before.”

Wow, he’s really not letting this cobbler thing go.

I swear he’s staring into my soul. Reading my mind. There’s this preternatural sense of understanding. It’s comforting more than unnerving, lowering all of my defenses.

“Guess it’s time to come clean.” I set my spoon down, pausing for dramatic effect. “I ate your cobbler. It was delicious if that’s any consolation.”

His smile deepens. “It’s not but I admire your honesty.”

“Your lumberjack ghost is hungry though. I’ve got him on film.”

“Yeah?”

“He gave me a recipe for stew.”

He chuckles softly and I cringe. I get it. I don’t believe in ghosts either.

“You think I’m crazy, huh? Out here all alone searching for ghosts.”

He shakes his head, leaning forward. “Not at all. I think it’s fascinating.” He swallows. “I think you’re fascinating.”

Tingles. Flutters. Hot sweats. Cold sweats. My body doesn’t know how to react. Neither does my brain, all staticky and dizzying as I stare at Stone.

“I’d love to help you out. Give you that interview you asked for. Maybe I can show you around town. Take you to all the hot spots I know of.”

I shake my head. “Wow,” I say, blinking. “I’d love that. Thank you. But really, you don’t have to. I’ve intruded, and I understand if you want me to leave and you’re too nice to kick me out. I understand.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not leaving.”

Another current of electricity races through me. If he’d said that to me when he burst through that front door, I’d be scared. My body’s not in fight or flight. It’s in tie me up and have your way with me mode.

Phew.

“Not without experiencing a real haunting.”

“And you think you can give me that?”

I watch his Adam’s apple bob. His gaze drops to my neck and I feel heat flush across my chest.

“I believe I can.”

“Okay,” I say, his eyes back on mine.

The air between us is still. Quiet. But it’s crackling with tension I feel all over my body.

“But you should get some sleep. Be good for that leg.”

Immediately I remember the way his hands felt on my skin. It’s so vivid it feels like they’re still there. If only…

“It’s better now that you helped me.”

He makes a guttural noise and then bites the inside of his mouth. Crackle, crackle, crackle. We hold each other’s gaze until his gruff voice fills the void.

“I’ll get you set up in my room.”

“I’ll take one of the other rooms.”

“Afraid they don’t have beds. I don’t get many visitors up here. Use ‘em for storage.”

“Then I’ll take the couch.”

“No,” he says reactively, if a little forcefully. He takes a deep breath, and then says, “The couch is fine for me. After sleeping on the ground for the past week, it will be a luxury.”

I eye him for a moment, taking in the breadth of him. He’s so large. Wide and thick. I can’t imagine him sleeping on a couch, but I could imagine him sleeping on the forest floor.

“You know they make air mattresses. Cots too.”

He smiles. “Need to pack light. Makes me feel closer to Mother Nature. Sometimes I stay at one of the hunter cabins around the mountain. Simple structures with nothing much more than a cot. Some shelves. Maybe a table and chair.”

I cringe. “My muscles are cramping just thinking about it. Do you use logs for pillows?”

“A nice round stone works too.”

For a moment, I think he’s being serious. But then the smile widens and I laugh. “Okay. Remind me never to camp with you.”

“I’ll change your mind.”

I don’t doubt that he will. I take one more bite of his delicious dessert and then stand up. But as it turns out, my muscles were indeed cramping and I have a massive charley horse in my calf that damn near brings me to my knees if not for Stone. He wraps his arms around me so fast that I hardly realize what happened until he speaks.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

He brushes a few stray hairs off my face as his fingers graze my lips. I no longer feel the cramp. I’m feeling a different kind of throbbing as I stare into his concerned eyes.

“Charley horse.” My voice is thin as I urge what little breath in my lungs out.

“Let’s get you to bed, Kyla. Give that leg some rest.”

I nod. “Okay.”

He scoops me up off the ground in one effortless motion. I wasn’t expecting that but I’m not complaining about the rugged mountain man sweeping me off my feet and carrying me into bed. I should probably brush the sugar off my teeth, but I’m not going to stop this train right now…

He sets me down on the bed. “I’ll get fresh sheets.”

“No,” I say, far more forcefully than I intend. I’m not sure where it came from but I think it spooked Stone a little bit. “It’s late and I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”

He stares at me, eyeing me carefully. “If that’s what you want.” His voice is so low and raspy that I somehow feel it in my chest, vibrating inside me.

I nod. “Thanks for everything.”

“Anything,” he rasps, and I swear he whispers “for you” as he turns.

I fall back as soon as he shuts the door, damn near squealing when my head hits the pillow. I grab it, shoving it into my face so that I can squeal, releasing a bit of the tension that’s been building.

This is insane. Absolute madness. Forget my paranormal investigation. I’m considering an entirely different investigation now that I’ve met Stone. I take a deep breath, and immediately my body lights up at his scent. So much so that I take another whiff. A huff.

I swear I’m not normally like this, but there’s something about his scent. Rugged and wild. It’s like he’s been rolling around in pine needles and herbs for years to create the most potent and irresistible scent.

Ugh. It isn’t fair. I toss the pillow, roll over onto my side, and then scream because I’m face to face with another corn doll.

Stone storms through the cabin and pushes through the door. His shirt is halfway off, and I see more than a swath of his muscled, hairy body.

“What is it? Why are you— holy shit!”

He locks onto the corn doll in my hand and I chuck it at him. He dips his head, dodging it as it flies past him and into the main living area.

“I burned that. You saw it. I saw it.”

He shuts the door, locking the door behind him. If finding a corn doll leads me to be locked inside with a half-naked mountain man, I’ll make sure to snag a few more while I’m in town.

“I know,” I say, refocusing on the task at hand. Nell was right. Those things are cursed. “Wait,” I mutter.

Nell. Things. There was more than one. Ugh. I breathe a sigh of relief and then laugh.

Stone moves over to the bed, sitting down next to me. It moans and creaks under his weight, dropping a few inches.

“My friend put it in here to scare me. There were two of them. We got rid of one. The other was in here the whole time.”

“Jesus,” Stone mutters to himself, scrubbing his beard. “You had me believing in ghosts and curses for a minute.”

“There’s still time for that.”

His eyes linger on mine for a while, and for a brief moment, I think he’s going to lean in and kiss me. Straddle me. Something.

Instead, he gets up and says, “I’ll take care of that other doll.”

And I say, “Thanks,” leaving me wondering about how his beard would feel against my face.

This investigation has taken a serious detour…