Page 2 of Don’t Make Me Fall (Mountain Men of Cinnamon Creek #1)

Chapter Two

Hudson

I should be in bed, half asleep in nothing but my birthday suit with reruns of Breaking Bad play in the background.

I’m dead ass tired after the day I put in, first with helping Reid unload dozens of sheets of drywall to the shed all morning so he can use them on the honeymoon suite renovation this weekend.

Second with leading a group of seven easily distractable tourists to Sunset Point who were more concerned with taking selfies along the trail than actually enjoying anything nature had to offer them.

Fucking social media and this society’s constant need for validation.

But instead of being halfway between drifting off to sleep and a good old fashioned wet dream, I’m back at the lodge waiting for the arrival of a group of women Reid booked last minute.

He muttered something about a favor to his sister, but I was too irritated to hear anything he said after coming from Omaha.

More fucking city chicks.

Just what we need.

This is not the vision I had when Reid, Mason, and I bought the lodge together a year ago. But if we want to keep the doors open, especially through the upcoming winter season that’s only weeks away, beggars can’t be fucking choosers and all that.

At least they’re only staying through the long weekend.

“I could’ve checked them in,” Winnie Stanton insists for the third time.

Mason’s grandma busies herself with straightening out the brochure display on a side table.

She’s been an incredible help when it comes to the front desk, but her stay is temporary.

In a couple of weeks, she’s headed to see her sister and won’t be back until the spring.

“I know, Winnie. And I appreciate that. But I can’t ask you to haul their luggage to their rooms.”

Just my luck that both Reid and Mason are conveniently tied up with a home renovation project for Mason’s wife, Ivy. And that all five women checking in have separate rooms on the second floor. I’d bet my cabin that none of these women are traveling light.

“I’m stronger than I look, you know,” Winnie says, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I’ve been taking strength training classes. I can deadlift a hundred and twenty pounds.”

I’m not sure this petite elderly woman is a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet.

“That’s pretty fucking impressive.” I immediately catch the slip. “Sorry—”

“I’m not offended,” she says, waving off my apology. “You’re a good man, Hudson. Maybe one of these lucky ladies will see that for herself.”

“Winnie, don’t get any ideas—”

But she whisks away out the front door to greet the only van in Cinnamon Creek that serves as part time shuttle. Reid must have called in a favor if he got Fred to drive all the way to Bozeman.

Five women pile out of the passenger van, some smiling, some yawning, and all but one of them chattering up a storm about how pretty the lodge is.

Inwardly, I groan as I move around to the back of the van to retrieve their luggage.

“You’re not my brother,” I hear a female voice say as I lift the first suitcase of many from the back. Jesus Christ this thing is heavy. Is there a fucking dead body in it?

“I’m not your brother,” I agree without looking at the woman standing at my side as I pull another bag from the back.

“Where’s Reid?”

“Not here.”

“He was supposed to meet us here,” she insists, folding her arms over her chest. A whiff of something floral drifts across the breeze, and dammit if that feminine scent doesn’t cause me to pause for a moment. My dick twitches at the thought of that very scent embedded in my pillowcases.

Fuck, I need to get laid.

“Reid had something come up, so you’re stuck with me instead.”

“Charming.”

“He didn’t call you?”

“My phone died, and my charger’s in my suitcase. The purple one.”

The suitcase she refers to is buried beneath half a dozen beachy tote bags, making me even less thrilled about their stay than I already was. I fucking hope Reid didn’t tell them this was some sort of spa resort, or these women will be sorely disappointed.

“Reid will be by in the morning,” I tell her.

“Or you could just tell me where he is now so I can go find him.”

I set the third suitcase on the ground—only two hundred and twelve to fucking go—and turn to face her.

Big mistake.

I’m instantly struck dumb by the sheer beauty of her.

Amber eyes that shine with fire and feist are laser focused on me, and my otherwise sleepy dick twitches with the faintest hint of life.

Dark auburn hair is tied at the top of her head in some sort of messy knot, and my fingers itch to tug it free to see how far past her shoulders it’ll fall.

Her arms are folded across her chest, giving the otherwise baggy sweatshirt she’s wearing shape. Incredible shape.

Fuck me.

This is Reid’s sister, dumbass. Don’t do anything stupid.

“And how do you plan to get there, sweetheart?” I finally manage to say.

“First of all, I’m not your sweetheart.” She points a finger at me, one she seems very tempted to poke into my chest but refrains. “Second, I have legs. I’ll walk.”

“At night?”

“Reid said Cinnamon Creek was a friendly small town. Should I be worried about being kidnapped or something?”

“Kidnapped? No.” I shake my head. “I have a strong suspicion that anyone who was brave enough to try to take you would return you pretty quickly.”

Her mouth hangs open in shock, and I can’t seem to stop staring. The urge to kiss the surprise right off those pillowy lips is overwhelming. I wonder what flavor concoction I’d find on that delicious tongue.

Get a fucking grip, man.

“It’s the mountain lions I’d be more concerned about,” I say.

“Mountain lions?”

“There’s been one hanging around town the past few days. Do you know what to do if you see a mountain lion, sweetheart?”

“I’m not—”

“You fight back.”

“What? That’s ridiculous.”

“Not if you want to live.”

Something akin to dread washes over her face, and it takes everything in me not laugh. Somehow, I feel as though that would be crossing a line.

“You’re trying to scare me,” she accuses, hugging herself tighter.

It’s chilly enough now that the sun has set that her nipples poke through the fabric.

Her sweatshirt is hardly a sweatshirt at all.

And is there anything under it? She shivers, and it takes all my restraint not to tug her into my arms to warm her up.

What the actual fuck is wrong with me?

“I’m trying to warn you. This isn’t some beach resort.”

“I know that.”

I look back at the tote bags decorated in tropical floral patterns, then at her exposed toes in fucking flip-flops. “Do you?”

“Look, I’ve had a really long day. So if you could please give me my suitcase, I’d be more than happy to get out of your hair.”

Some emotion I can’t pin flashes in her suddenly weary eyes, and a protective surge rushes my body. I swallow the urge to demand to know what asshole hurt her so I can deal with him. And then show her how a real man treats his woman.

I rub my eyes, clearly exhausted out of my mind for the thoughts that are trespassing through it about a woman I met two fucking minutes ago.

A woman who also happens to be my best friend’s little sister.

It doesn’t get more off limits than that.

The sooner I put some distance between us, the better.

“I’ll bring your bags to your room,” I tell her.

“But my charger—”

“I’ll let Reid know you got in.”

Her amber eyes narrow once again, and for that, I’m relieved. The irritation and anger, I can take. Seeing her in distress, even for the briefest of moments, threatens to undo me. It makes no fucking sense.

“Go inside, sweetheart. Before that mountain lion decides you’re it’s next meal.”

Her eyes widen as she scans the area, waiting only a few seconds before she rushes toward the front door to follow her friends inside the lodge.

Even if the mountain lion is lurking in the shadows waiting to attack, the threat poses no match for the curvy bombshell who’s already got a chokehold on me. I might just be fucked.