Page 5 of Beast of Misty Mountain

She winks at me, and I’m damn near speechless. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, some of us have jobs to get to.”

She slides into the car, then pauses, looking up at me through the open window. “Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.”

“Not a chance.”

I stand there watching her go until she reaches the bend in the road and disappears, then I exhale and let the silence wash over me. But instead of relief, something new and uncomfortable tightens my chest. Ignoring it, I walk back intomyhome, but that doesn’t help.

The scent of her soap still lingers near the front door. Looking around my living room only makes me see the small ways she’s tried to make my home hers. I should be angry about it because my home is my sanctuary. I never have people over.

But somehow, I like the imprint of Marilee on my world. It aggravates me like a motherfucker, but I’m not sure I want to resist her.

Marilee is a force of nature. She’s mouthy. She’s headstrong. She’s also not scared of me.

And the most aggravating part?

A piece of me is glad she’s here.

CHAPTER 3

MARILEE

The bell above The Pine and Petal Café door jingles as I step inside, and the smell of cinnamon and espresso makes me drool. Sami and Clara make the best pastries and coffee in town, and I love it here.

Sami’s behind the counter, her curly brown hair tucked behind one ear.

“Triple-shot almond milk latte?” she asks without looking up from the espresso machine.

“You’re a gift,” I say, stepping up to the counter.

“Don’t I know it.” She grins. “You look like you’ve had a morning.”

“I’ve had a something.”

I lean on the counter and scan the café. It’s calm here—soft music, scattered regulars, hanging plants thriving in macramé holders, and mismatched chairs that somehow still work together. The light filtering through the tall windows makes everything feel washed in gold.

A voice from the pastry case calls out, “Morning, Red.”

Clara smiles at me as she balances a tray of muffins. Her green café apron is slightly crooked, and her curls are barely wrangled into a headband.

“Hey,” I say, grateful for the distraction. “How are you?”

Sami sets my latte on the counter. “You want gossip with that caffeine?”

“What’s the news?” I ask. Usually, the gossip is about long-standing rivalries with the year-round residents or the crazy shenanigans the tourists get up to.

Clara leans in and smiles like the Cheshire cat. “I hear you’ve got a roommate.”

I freeze for a moment, and they pounce. I just got away from that man—I don’t want totalkabout him now, too.

Sami arches an eyebrow. “Roommate?”

“This town’s got faster gossip than broadband,” I mutter, taking a cautious sip of my coffee.

Clara’s eyes sparkle. “I heard Beast was back. He’s already been on the phone to Hank, hollering about renting his place without warning. And you’re staying in his cabin, so…not much detective work needed. Tall, scowls a lot, grumptastic. Ringing any bells?”

“Beast? He said his name was Milo.” I’m confused. I’ve heard about Beast before, and everyone has always made him sound like a hard-core SOB, but Milo wasn’t like that. We sparred last night, but who wouldn’t when they came home and found someone renting their home?

Sami leans her elbows on the counter. “Apparently, you really know him now.”

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