Page 1 of Crushing on the Mountain Man (Mountain Man Summer #3)

Brandy

It’s a small, two bed cabin. Two bedrooms, one tiny bathroom, a kitchenette and a couch.

I thought it was bigger than this. It had certainly seemed bigger when I was a kid.

But then, we were hardly ever in here. Too much to explore, swimming and playing in, on and around the lake.

We used to run wild. Total freedom. Only reporting back to sleep or eat, so our parents knew we were still alive.

“Going to be costly.”

I look over to the ass sticking out from under the sink. White flesh bulging out of the top of worn denim. Ass crack and all. The plumber sticks his head out, an almighty snorting sniff as he wipes his hands under his nose. “Could take weeks.”

“That’s what the carpenter said about the roof. I really need hot water. Is there anybody else I can call?”

The plumber shrugs while trying to hide his grin. “I’m the only one out here this time of year. You’d be better off doing this in the off season. We’re about to have all these tourists here needing this and that. Time is money.”

I let out a sigh and walk out the front.

It’s an amazing view. It might be further to walk, but from up here on the hill, it’s a straight view down to the lake.

The old jetty is still there. I have so many memories of running and jumping off that jetty.

Or us kids would sit out there and talk all night.

It’s been over ten years since I was here, it seems like a lifetime.

The door squeaks as the plumber joins me. I can smell his rancid sweat before I see him.

“Going to be costly. I’ll do up a quote and send it over. You going to be around for a while?”

I nod and cross my arms over my chest, trying to shrink away from his leering look. I do not want this guy in my Grandmother’s sweet little cabin. I don’t want him dripping sweat on the knitted cushions or touching Papa’s ‘I’d rather be fishing’ sign that proudly hangs on the back of the door.

And the way he looks at me, straight at my breasts, every single time. I make a mental note to get an extra lock for the cabin door.

“These old cabins aren’t worth much nowadays. Better off just selling for land value.”

“Thank you for coming and having a look.” I put on a smile and shake the man’s hand. Mother always taught me to be polite no matter what. “I will think about what you have said.”

I’m not about to tell the plumber that the title of ownership of Grandma’s cabin is a grey area that nobody talks about.

The general store is a thirty minute walk.

It’s one of those sell everything sort of stores.

Fishing bait, sunglasses, soda, baked beans, sunscreen, crisps, flip flops and hardware.

Next door to the general store is a burger van selling burgers and the best toasted cheese sandwiches in the whole world. Up the road there is a gas station.

That’s it for shops on this side of the lake. If you cross to the other side of the lake, there is a resort and a fancy restaurant.

It was just a glance at the shirtless man unloading boxes. But whoa, holy stars! It’s like time slowed down as I took in his tanned, tattooed arms. Chiseled chest and stomach. He looks at me and nods. I look away quickly.

But that quick look was enough to see a sharp jawline, piercing green eyes. A handsome face. A sexy body that belongs on a billboard or commercial for expensive perfume. The kind of guy who would look good slowly walking out of the lake with water droplets falling slowly from his hair and chin.

Being back here at the lake must have me feeling fanciful because I don’t normally get all hot and bothered over a good looking guy. And I’m here to do up the cabin as quickly as possible. I’m not here to admire the locals.