Page 1 of Charmed By the Mountain Man

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WILLA

My hands are on autopilot, andI love it.

Measure coffee. Fill up the water. Run a damp cloth over every imaginable surface to keep it sparkling clean. I can feel myself smiling at the customers in the shop.

I've only been here for two weeks, but this is already one of the best jobs I've ever had. Charming Café certainly lives up to the name: Desire, the quirky owner, pours all her passion into this charming shop in downtown Cedarville.

Cedarville itself has been amazing so far, too. Fresh mountain air. Mellow, small-town people. It feels like a close-knit community. A chance for a fresh start. Very different from my family, put it that way.

My family. A shudder runs through me just thinking about them. There is always a fight of some kind on the horizon—especially since Dad decided that he’s enrolling me in University back in Pittsburgh when I return in the fall. He doesn’t realize that I’m seriously trying to find a way to stay here, out from under his thumb.

I really do love it here. The constant view of trees and mountaintops, plus access to the most amazing coffee in town, has me waking up with a smile on my face every morning. Being surrounded by the fresh aroma of cinnamon Danish and carrot muffins is good for the soul. Plus, Desire let me set up a small display of my hand-crafted jewelry at the far end of the counter. She claims my charms have the “perfect sweet energy for the café's overall vibe”.

I give my hands a quick scrub under the hot water, then grab a fresh cloth and wipe down every vacant table.

"Willa?"

I hurry over to meet Desire at the counter. "Yeah?"

She flashes one of her trademark toothy grins, as bright as the lavender sparkle scarf tied around her hair and her blue and green tie-dye dress. "There's usually a lull right around now. Could you run some coffees across the street for me?"

"Sure." I help her put together the order – two black coffees, and an assortment of pastries. The businesses directly across the street are a hair salon, a clothing store, and a tattoo shop. I didn't think any of them opened until eleven. "Where are they going?" I ask.

"My brother is getting a tattoo sketched out," she explains, shaking her head slightly. "I think he's nuts, but it’s none of my business. Still, I'm not going to let him make any decisions undercaffeinated. He might end up with something ridiculous."

I laugh while picking up the coffee tray and pastry box. "Got it. Be right back."

The sign on the door of "As The Crow Inks" says they're not open. I knock, then bump the door with my hip. It swings open, and I step inside and look around.

The front room is mostly white with stainless steel counters – almost surgical, except for the huge array of artwork on the walls. I've never noticed the odds and ends on shelves and in thefront window – t-shirts, sunglasses, accessories like leather wrist cuffs.

"Hello?" I set the tray with two large cups on the counter. "Coffee delivery!"

Crow comes bounding out of the back room with a bright smile. He's been by the café many times and always seems to be in a great mood. His girlfriend Emma also works at Charming Café, and told me he's not only a tattoo artist, but a volunteer firefighter. "Hey, Willa. Thanks."

I'm still struggling to open the box of pastries, while he's already chugging his coffee. "Just because you're a fire expert doesn't mean you won't burn your tongue," I laugh, trying to unstick the tape from the cardboard with my thumbnail.

"Need a hand with that?" An unfathomably deep voice booms from barely a foot behind me, sending my heart into my throat. I jump with a squeal, spinning and almost letting the entire box fly out of my hands. My nose is an inch from a wall of deeply tanned flesh.

As I jerk to a stop, a raspberry-topped Danish flies out of the box and sticks to the ridiculously sculpted abs in front of me.

The owner of the abs takes the box from my hand and peels the Danish from his stomach with a chuckle. "Ahh…I guess this one's mine." As soon as the box is back safely on the counter, his massive hand lightly grips my elbow for a split second. "I'm so sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."

Heat flashes through my cheeks as I reach for the stack of napkins in the box and dab at the red smear along the center of the picture-perfect six pack. "I'm sorry. It's?—"

He gently takes the napkin from me. Crap, I'm being far too intimate with a total stranger. I look up into his stunning face, and a deep shudder runs through me. He's…gorgeous. Rugged and rough, with deep brown eyes I just want to take photos of forever.

He frowns. "I know. I'm scary-looking. And I can't help my voice." I think he's speaking as softly as he can.

Oh boy. I hope I haven't offended the most handsome man I've ever seen.

He steps back and extends his hand. "I'm Huxley. Or just Hux is fine, too."

I'mstillstaring at him. Though to be fair, there's an awful lot to stare at. He's huge – at least six foot four, with muscles like a bodybuilder. Dark hair and eyes, tanned skin. The deepest voice I've ever heard in person. And yet… There's a lightness in the way he smiles and laughs. In the way he studies my face.

His warm, rough palm belongs around the handle of an axe, but feels good against mine too. "Willa."

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