THE MORNING after Finn broke his leg, I had to get outside and work through the jumble of emotions I was feeling. Getting outside and scouting new potential land was the best way to clear my head. I left the Chikalu Rose Motel and loaded Bud up in my old blue Ford I’d named “The Blue Beast” and started driving. I didn’t have a particular destination in mind, but I was always hoping to stumble upon somewhere new.
Being mindful of private property or No Trespassing signs, I drove down the winding country roads until I saw a clearing in the tree line to what looked like an established trail. I parked my truck, checked my small backpack for water and a snack, and started walking.
Bud wandered up ahead, smelling the forest floor, stopping to investigate a mushroom or critter that was startled awake. He was used to my aimless hikes, never wandering too far from me. He was such a good, sweet boy.
As the elevation increased, my breath came out harder in gusts. I could feel my blood pumping through my legs as I pushed harder.
My mind wandered to Finn and his broken leg and the relief that washed over me when I knew he would be okay. The truth was, I wasn’t nearby when it happened, but had run toward the panicked yells of my friends in time to see Lincoln hoist Finn lengthwise across his shoulders like a fireman.
Deck said that Finn lost his footing on a rock bluff and took a hard tumble, though I was sure he would have preferred if he embellished its height or how very tough he was. Deck kept the details simple.
I wasn’t expecting the intense wave of desire that swept through me when I saw Lincoln grab Finn. Damn, he’d looked good doing that. Instinct and training took over—his blue eyes were set as he carried Finn the half mile back to the trucks. I scrambled behind them, grabbing any gear I could as I went.
Lincoln’s biceps bulged with the weight, veins popping out of his lean forearms. On his right arm, I could see the scars from the war and remnants of tattoos that had been damaged. My chest got tight thinking about how painful it looked.
Sweat beaded the back of Lincoln’s shirt but his breath was steady. With an unrestricted view of his ass as he pushed on ahead of me, I could see his strong legs carrying the weight.
I want to wrap my legs around that tight, muscular body.
In the days since Finn’s accident, I couldn’t get that thought out of my head. I spent quiet nights in my bed thinking about running my fingers down his abs, lower until I reached his thick, hard cock.
I wanted to know what Lincoln felt like in bed. I fantasized that he was a generous lover, unlike any I’d been with before. I imagined him being assertive, overcome with his desire, and taking me, knowing I wanted it just as badly as he did. I could feel my core tighten just thinking about Lincoln on top of me, pushing his way inside.
I knew it was wrong to think about my best friend’s brother like that, but I couldn’t help it. I was drawn to Lincoln. I wanted to know more about him, spend time figuring out why sometimes he seemed so lighthearted and other times he grew so quiet and intense.
Finn and Lincoln had some things they needed to work out, but if I could help it, I was going to find a way to see Lincoln again.
Coming to the top of a ridge, I found the landscape open to a clearing. Lost in my thoughts, I wasn’t sure how far I’d traveled, so I checked my GPS watch—almost three miles. Bud seemed barely phased by the long hike, but I wanted to take a minute to catch my breath.
I could hear the faint sounds of a road nearby so I knew I hadn’t strayed too far from civilization, but getting lost in the mountains of northwest Montana would not be great. I needed to keep my head on my shoulders and stop daydreaming so much about Lincoln.
I looked out over the landscape below and saw a long valley that swept across, bending and moving with the river. It was gorgeous. Wildflowers
bloomed along the bank, and the drop-off to the water was gradual, which would allow people to wade into the water to fish. It was the perfect, secluded spot. A ripple of excitement traveled through me.
Marking the location on my watch, I knew I had to find out who owned this section of land—there’s no way it was public land. Finn and I had scoured every inch of public land in four counties but hadn’t found anything as perfect as this. Flat areas for tent camping, trees for hammocks, easy access to water, not too far from a main road.
Determined, I pulled up a map on my phone. Service was spotty so it took forever for it to load. Scrolling left and right, zooming in and out, I searched the image for any sign of a house or a cabin or anything that would help me get an address. Finally, on the screen was what looked like a small village—a large structure (maybe a house?), a barn, and some smaller outbuildings dotted around it.
Getting my bearings and triple-checking it against my GPS watch, I found it was only about an hour hike from where I was standing. My legs ached at the knowledge that I’d still have to walk all the way back.
“What do you think, Bud? Should we go knock on the door? Can you be charming?” I asked.
Bud, being adorable but also kind of dumb, let out a loud yip and started circling me excitedly.
“Well, you don’t seem tired now, but I’m not carrying you back.”
Bud barked again, his breath panting. I filled his portable water dish, checked directions again, turned, and headed off in the direction of the house.
An hour later—though my aching legs said it was more like twelve—an old farmhouse came into view. As I walked out of the woods onto the property, a small gravel driveway wound toward the highway to my left. The house sat so far back, it would be nearly invisible to cars passing on the highway, and the only indication I wasn’t totally isolated was the occasional hum of a car driving past.
A small creek that led back to the main river peeked out from the backyard. The house itself was a disaster. Broken window shutters hung, their faded paint curling at the edges. A few windows were boarded up with plywood haphazardly nailed over the front. I thought it looked abandoned as I circled the house with its expansive porch, Bud staying tightly at my leg.
The back porch, with two new-looking Adirondack chairs and a small round table, was the only hint that the home wasn’t empty. Behind the home, I could see the barn. It looked like a stiff wind would be all it took to set it tumbling to the ground. Farther back, there were what looked like three small log cabins along the creek.
Wanting to make note of the address so I could track down the owner, I started back toward the front of the house. My thighs burned and my feet throbbed. I was definitely not looking forward to the miles between my truck and me.
Before Bud could even bark in surprise, I could feel him.
“Can I help you?” a man’s voice asked, laced with irritation. I turned to face Lincoln. “Oh,” his voice softened, “what are you doing here?”
A giddy ripple of excitement whirled just under my ribs at seeing him again. I smiled and shrugged a shoulder. “Oh, you know, just in the neighborhood.”
His face twitched in a subtle smirk, and I was calling that a win. Suddenly feeling nervous to be alone with Lincoln, I reached out my hand.
Why are you shaking his hand? You’re an idiot.
His eyes flicked down to my hand as he hesitated slightly but then reached out to take it. His palm was wide, with long, thick fingers. He was definitely a man who was used to working with his hands, and I could feel the slightly rough callous rub my palm. Our eyes met and I immediately looked down, seeing the scarred tattoos on his forearms again. It made my chest hitch.
Breaking contact, I asked, “So, what are you doing here?”
“I live here,” he said, offering nothing more, but his brow was furrowed.
I gestured toward the ramshackle house. “You live here? Nobody lives here.”
“I don’t live here,” he mirrored my gesture to the house, “but have a cottage on the property by the water. So again, what are you doing here? Did Finn send you?”
“No. Not at all. Bud and I are just out exploring.” At the mention of his name, Bud barked happily. Lincoln squatted down, his jeans tightening around his thighs as I tried to look away. Bud eagerly ambled toward him, leaning his stocky weight into Lincoln’s legs.
“He’s cute. What kind of dog is he?” Lincoln asked.
“Red Heeler, uh, Australian Cattle Dog. He’s amazing, adventurous, but also kind of a dipshit. He’s always getting stuck in fox holes or up to his eyeballs in fish guts,” I shared, smiling down at Bud because he was my dipshit.
Lincoln’s smile spread across his face, crinkling at the edges of his eyes and softening his normally hard features.
Seeing the door to his resolve crack, I kicked that goddamn door wide open. “Well, since you live here, why don’t you show us around?”
He stood, dragged a hand through his hair, and sighed. “Yeah, ok.”
His hand dropped with a small smack against his leg. He lifted his arm to lead the way, and as I passed him, I tried not to breathe in the smell of him. Was it cologne? Did he naturally smell like masculine soap and camp smoke? God, it was good.
Out of the corner of my eye, I appreciated the way his jeans hugged the curve of his ass. His waist was trim and the way the hem of his green T- shirt teased at his hips was making my mouth water. Being this close to him, even in the openness of outside, was making me jumpy.
“You really live way out here alone?” I asked, letting my nerves get the best of me.
“Not alone,” he replied, and for a moment, my heart sank until he added, “Mr. Bailey lives in the Big House. I’ve been helping him out, getting it fixed up, making sure he doesn’t let it collapse around him.”
“That’s very kind of you,” I offered.
“It’s the least I can do, he took me in when I came home.”
I recalled that Finn said Lincoln’s adjustment to life after the Marines was a challenge. Finn didn’t share specifics, but I knew he had struggled with his injuries, life in a small town, and not being with his unit anymore. Living with Miss Birdie and Finn wasn’t really working for anyone. Lincoln filled his time with “anger and booze,” as Finn recalled. Frowning at that thought, I walked in silence.
Turning the conversation back to safer ground, I looked around the property. “I’ve got to tell you . . . I’m a little heartbroken. I thought this property was vacant. I was about ten minutes from moving in and claiming it as my own.” I smiled at Lincoln but his eyes were fixed on me.
“I’m not sure the owner would mind all that much.” Lincoln’s voice was just above a whisper and laced with gravel. I felt a hot blush spread across my cheeks.
Lincoln cleared his throat, and I met his eyes as we stopped by a turn in the creek. Heat crept up my neck. He bent to pick up a stick, whipped it toward the creek, and Bud went sailing after it. The sharp splash broke the tension in the air.
“So,” he rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, “we’re a little screwed with Finn’s broken leg.”
I nodded.
“Finn suggested that we hire you while he’s out.” His expression was unreadable.
“What do you mean?” I asked, even though I knew exactly what he meant—Finn had called me earlier in the day.
“I mean, we’re already short-staffed and could use another guide. Finn said you usually only do solo guides, but you’d really be helping us out.” He took a small step forward and added, “Helping me out.”
I tipped my head up as he towered over me, his blue eyes glancing to my lips.
Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.
A small twinge floated over his face but was gone just as quickly as he added, “So it’s up to you, but we pay well, meals included. I need to know by Tuesday.”
With that, he turned and stomped away.
Following him, I had to practically jog to keep up with his long, purposeful strides.
“Hey, yeah, I’ll think about it,” I called breathlessly to his back. “Good.”
Feeling dismissed and a little confused—what the fuck is his problem all of a sudden?—I whistled for Bud, who turned to follow me back up the path toward the woods. My gait was slow, my legs feeling the ache, and I still had miles ahead of me.
I thought I heard a mumbled fuck when he called out, “Hey, I’m headed into town and it’s getting late. I’ll take you back.”
My stomach tightened, and I forced myself to take a small breath before replying, “That’s so kind. Thank you.”
I walked past him, breathing in his heady scent on purpose this time. His gray truck was newer than mine, but not the showboat that Finn’s was. He paused, opened my door, and I couldn’t hide the small smile as I
clenched my jaw to get myself under control. He double tapped the truck bed and Bud leapt up, curling up into the front corner with a sigh.
The ride was short, and the conversation was light, sticking mostly to comments about the weather, fishing, or the town itself. The dark mood that had settled over him was seemingly gone. I silently cursed how short the drive felt as we pulled up to my truck.
Thanking him for the ride, I quickly grabbed my backpack and called for Bud. I had to put a little distance between us before my panties burst into flames. Clearly, my schoolgirl crush was back with a vengeance.
