Page 40 of Unwrapped By the Grumpy Mountain Man
“You wouldn’t dare,” she spins and bares her teeth in my face.
I lean down close so she hears me. “I haven’t yet because our girls deserve to have their mom. I don’t want to take that away from them, but you keep sinking deep in the lowest of shits. I won’t let you drag them with you, Kristy. I won’t.”
“Enjoy your child cunt,” she spits, literally, at my feet and gets in a black Viper that I know is not hers.
She recklessly peels out of my driveway and drives off.
Fuck.It’s true, I could have hired someone to catch her in the lifestyle I know would get the girls taken from her in a second, but I didn’t want to traumatize my daughters with that scene. I opted for the slower system. Ease them into the idea of one day being with me full-time instead.
But as the headlights of what I’m sure is Psycho’s car fade in the distance, my intuition tells me it’s time to give my girls sunshine and peace.
Sighing, feeling the heavy boulder on my shoulders press down harder, I walk back to where Violet stands on the porch steps, looking upset.
“I’m sorry–” I begin.
She shoots her hand up. “Don’t you dare apologize for…that. What did you even see in her? She’s the mother of those three beautiful angels?”
Violet rapidly turns and continues ranting under her breath into the house, and unexpectedly, I find myself smiling.
She’s adorable. And fiercely protective. Shit. I could fall in love with that woman.
CHAPTER TEN
VIOLET
The kitchen in my childhood home feels eerily quiet as I wipe down the counters. Dad is nowhere to be found, though I'm not surprised. I'd texted that I was coming, but as usual, he's either forgotten or chosen to be elsewhere. The few dirty dishes in the sink suggest he was here recently but didn't bother to clean up.
I open my laptop on the counter and pull up the bank's payment portal. The bank deposit receipt from the cashier's check Hudson gave me sits beside it, the number $50,000 staring back at me like an accusation. It's what we agreed upon. It's why I married him. So why does accepting it now feel like I'm doing something wrong?
My finger traces the signature on the check. Hudson Wilder. My husband. The man who kissed me like I was precious, who touched me like I was made of gold, who made me feel things I'd never felt before. The man I'm starting to have very real feelings for.
With a sigh, I enter the amount needed to cover the mortgage payments and late fees—just over $11,000. The weight lifts frommy shoulders as the payment processes. Mom's house is safe. My promise kept.
But what about the rest? Nearly $39,000 remains, more money than I've ever had at once. Money from a man who's no longer just a business arrangement to me.
I close my laptop and sit at the kitchen table, the check receipt still in my hand. This house has always been my anchor, the physical manifestation of Mom's memory. I've fought so hard to keep it, sacrificed my own dreams, even married a stranger. But now that it's secure, I find myself wondering if this is still my home.
The walls that once held me now feel confining. The memories that comforted me now seem distant. My heart pulls me elsewhere—to a mountain house filled with Christmas decorations and the laughter of three little girls. To a man with dark, knowing eyes who sees right through me.
My phone buzzes on the counter. Hudson's name lights up the screen, and my heart does that ridiculous flutter.
"Hey," I answer, unable to keep the smile from my voice.
"Violet." His deep voice sends warmth spreading through me. "I'm stuck at the site. A tree came down wrong, damaged some equipment. I won't make it back in time to meet the girls."
"What time are they arriving?" I stand, already gathering my things.
"Kristy's dropping them off at three." The stress is evident in his tone. "I hate to ask, but?—"
"I'll be there," I assure him, glancing at my watch. Just after one. "Don't worry about it."
"You sure? This wasn't part of the deal, being alone with them."
"Hudson, it's fine. I'm happy to do it." And I am, surprisingly so. The thought of seeing the girls fills me with anticipation rather than anxiety.
He's quiet for a moment. "Thank you, Goldie."
The nickname makes my stomach flip. "I'll see you when you get home."
