Page 16 of Mountain Daddy (Mountain Men #2)

Kendra

GPS says I’m only five minutes away.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been out here, since Dad’s been the one traveling to see me for most of the last decade, but I still recognize it. And I don’t feel as bummed as I expected to feel.

I’m still not thrilled about moving in with my parent after being on my own since I was eighteen.

And it’s a little extra nerve-racking since I’ve never lived with my dad before. But he’s chill. So I have to believe he’s not going to be hard to live with.

Air flows in through my open window, and I let the scent of the forest surround me.

It’s a beautiful day.

The sun is out.

The high elevation means it’s not too hot.

And the scenery is stunning.

So no, I’m not bummed about moving here.

I’m not bummed.

I’m just a little sad. For a reason I didn’t plan for.

Luther .

I sigh as I slow for a turn in the road.

When I first spotted Luther sitting at the bar, my mind instantly flashed with visions of what he’d look like over me.

What he might look like naked.

But I never thought it would actually happen.

And my god, did it happen.

I feel myself smile as I think about all the positions we experienced in just one night.

I’ve never experienced anything like that.

Like him.

Never been manhandled like that.

Never knew I’d want to be.

Part of me is kicking myself for not getting his number. And part of me feels a little guilty for lying and telling him I was only passing through.

But the other part of me recognizes that I don’t need to complicate my life any more than it already is. And picking up a fuck buddy, or boyfriend, or whatever he’d be, on my very first night in town would definitely be a complication to my new start.

But what a great fuck buddy he’d be.

When Luther climbed out of my bed this morning, I felt the loss immediately.

But then I reminded myself that I knew exactly what I was getting into, and his leaving was part of that. So I hugged the pillow that smelled like him, and I fell back asleep, accepting the experience for what it was.

But who knows. Maybe, once I’m settled, I’ll go back to Rocky Ridge Inn and see if he’s around.

I take my foot off the gas as I approach my dad’s driveway.

We’re up in the mountains. An hour away from a major city. Twenty or so minutes away from a little town called Lonely. Rural. But somehow, this cute little neighborhood is tucked away in the trees.

The lots are bigger than town lots, and every house is surrounded by mature trees, so you can be in your yard and not see anyone.

It seems a little goofy, having all these houses near each other when there’s so much unoccupied land out here, but it helps to not feel so isolated.

Even though no one’s on the road behind me, I flip my blinker on, then turn across the quiet paved road into the gravel driveway.

I coast, letting my car slow as I reach the turn in the driveway.

Movement pulls my attention to the side, and I see a blur of red fur disappear into the trees.

“Hey, Buddy.” I smile. Foxes are so cute.

Once I take the turn, I spot the house.

It’s a single-story, three-bedroom, two-bathroom structure with a covered front porch, a larger back deck, and an attached two-car garage.

But none of that is what has me grinning.

It’s the dork on the front porch, holding a row of printer paper taped together, reading Welcome Home Kenny , like I’ve been away on a trip.

I wave my hand out my open window as I stop in front of the house.

I put my vehicle into park and turn off the engine before taking a deep breath and climbing out.

“Welcome home!” Dad shakes the banner as he says it.

“You shouldn’t have.”

He laughs as he drops one end of the paper, letting the banner droop. “I had to test out the new at-home company printer/scanner/something else-er.”

I don’t know how much I’ll need to actually print or scan anything once I get his website up to modern times, but I don’t want to rain on his parade.

And I love that he’s all about me working from home rather than out of the warehouse where he works. So I’ll pretend to scan shit all day if I have to.

He holds his arms out as he hurries down the steps.

Dad has the same dark hair as I do—only his is graying, and he keeps it short. But that’s where our similarities start and finish.

He’s a solid six feet tall.

I’m five and a half.

He has a slender build.

I… don’t.

The only thing bigger than my tits is my ass.

He could spend the summer outside in a tent.

I couldn’t.

But as he hugs me, I know we’re similar where it counts.

“Thanks for letting me stay here,” I tell him as I hug him back.

“I’ve already told ya. You’re always welcome here. Stay as long as you want.” He pats my back, then releases me. “Plus, I’m hoping you’ll love the job so much that you’ll keep working for me, even when you’ve saved up enough to move out.”

“Dad—” It’s not like I don’t want that too, but I need us to have realistic expectations.

“I know, I know. We’ll play it by ear. And since we never discussed it, I might as well tell you now that the starting pay is eighty thousand a year.” He says it so matter-of-factly that it takes a second before my brain retains the information.

Eighty fucking thousand?

“American dollars?” I ask.

Dad snorts, like I was making a joke.

But I wasn’t joking. That’s more than I was making at my corporate job.

“Now.” Dad claps his hands together, crinkling the paper still in his grip. “I see you brought a few things.”

We both turn and look at my hatchback, every window filled with boxes.

To be fair, I wedged a lot more into my car than I thought I would.

All my clothes, my favorite kitchen items, all my bedding and pillows, and other random things from over the years.

I sold whatever furniture I owned the morning I left, with only one end table unclaimed and left on the sidewalk.

“Let’s get you unloaded, then we can have lunch.”

“What’s for lunch?” I fold my arms like it’s a negotiation.

Dad mimics my position. “Hot dogs and mac and cheese.”

“Powder or sauce?”

He scoffs. “Saucy sauce, obviously.”

I drop my arms. “You have a deal.”

Then I snicker. Because really? Hot dogs and mac and cheese?

“What’s so funny? It’s your favorite meal.”

I’m about to argue Yeah, when I was five , but it actually sounds amazing.

“Nothing funny.” I step forward and brace for boxes to fall as I open the rear door.