Page 7 of Mountain Man's Redemption

So why are you getting so damn invested in this stranger, old man?

She’ll run a mile soon enough…

The nearby buzz of an engine stops my thoughts in their tracks, and I can’t help the way my heart thumps as I head for the window, watching the small blue Honda pull up beside my pickup. Then Daphne gets out, her eyes wide as she takes in my cabin. She looks so fucking pretty in her dark jeans and purple sweater, her long hair tied back in a braid. I stare at her a moment longer before heading to the door and pulling it open.

“Morning,” I say.

“Good morning!” Daphne smiles, and my chest squeezes tight. She looks genuinely happy to see me. It’s not something I’m used to, and it means a hell of a lot coming from an angel like her.

“Come on in. Want some coffee?”

“I’d love some.”

I fetch her a cup and she thanks me, taking a deep sip as she looks around the living room.

“This place is gorgeous,” she says. “It’s so cozy.”

“Thanks.”

I wasn’t exactly rolling in money when I left prison. All I could afford was a tiny ramshackle log cabin, which needed so much work that the owner was practically giving it away. I fixed it up using wood from the forest and even added a workshop. It was a long process, but now this place is a real home—warm and comfortable.

“So, this is where you want the painting?” Daphne asks, gesturing to the space above the roaring fireplace. I nod, and she continues, “Okay, great. I’m thinking of doing an oil painting—twenty by sixteen. How does that sound?”

“Sounds great. Just do whatever you think is best.”

Daphne nods thoughtfully, and I can almost see her artist brain whirring as she stares at the spot where the painting will hang. I wish I’d let her show me her portfolio yesterday. I’d have commissioned her no matter what her art looked like, but now I’m curious as hell to see her work. There’s so much I don’t know about her. So much I desperately want to know. She mentioned she had to leave her parents’ house in a hurry, and it’s been niggling at me ever since. What the hell could have forced Daphne to leave her home and move to Cherry Hollow without enough money to buy furniture? I’d love to know this angel’s story, but then I’d have to share my own. And I can’t do that. Not now.

“Can you show me where I should set up?” she asks, pulling me from my thoughts. “So I can get the view of the cabin that you want.”

Her face is full of eagerness, and I can’t suppress a smile. “Paint from wherever you think looks best. Seriously, Daphne, do whatever you want. I trust you to paint something great.”

She grins at me over the coffee mug. “Very optimistic, considering you haven’t seen my portfolio. But I promise I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I can ask.”

We stare at each other for a second too long, the fire crackling behind us, bathing us in heat. The air thickens, and the walls of my cabin seem to close around us as I look at Daphne’s face, from her pretty doe eyes to those pouty red lips. It’s surreal having her in my cabin. She’s so damn beautiful. So perfect.

She’s also half your age, old man,I think to myself ruefully.

Daphne looks like she’s only a couple of years into her twenties. I’m forty-two, and I look every damn day of it. I shouldn’t be lusting over a pretty twenty-something…but hell, how can I resist this woman? I’m flesh and blood, goddammit, and she’s a fucking masterpiece.

“Well, I better go set up,” she says eventually, her sweet voice doing nothing to slow my racing pulse.

“Okay. You need anything, just let me know.”

She nods, smiling at me. “Thank you, Garrett.”

She leaves the cabin, closing the door behind her, and I watch from the window as she sets up her easel, paints, and brushes, along with a stool to sit on and another to hold more supplies. Only when she finally looks up at the cabin do I ease away from the window. The last thing I want to do is creep her out while she’s working, and I sit down on the couch with a groan, running a hand over my beard. I need to head into the forest and chop some wood. I’m running low, and I’m meant to start work on an oak-wood nightstand tomorrow.

But dammit, I really don’t want to leave Daphne.

Before I can stop myself, I get to my feet and head for the window again, peering out at her. She’s sitting at her easel now, about twenty feet away, biting her lip in concentration as she sketches with a pencil. She casts quick glances at the cabin as she draws, and every time her eyes flit up, my pulse jumps.

Fuck, what the hell is happening to me?

This girl is turning me into a damn psycho, but I can’t bring myself to move. It’s like my feet are stuck, rooted deep into the floor. All I can do is stand and watch as this curvy goddess paints my cabin, her pretty face lit up by the morning sun.

5

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