Page 2 of Mountain Man’s Holiday Home (Wildwood Valley Christmas #1)

HENDRIX

I’d laid eyes on her only yesterday, but she was somehow even more beautiful today.

Maybe it was the ridiculous pink sequined Santa hat catching what little sunlight broke through the clouds, flashing like it was daring me not to stare.

Or the way her puffer coat matched it perfectly, framing a tumble of thick, wavy blonde hair.

The whole look had my dick stirring for the first time in… a while.

Whatever it was, one look at her and I knew I hadn’t imagined it—she really was the most stunning woman I’d ever seen.

Which was exactly why, when I heard Luca needed help delivering a tree, I didn’t hesitate.

I’d been sitting with Gunnar at breakfast at the diner just outside the farm entrance when Luca’s text came through.

I hopped to my feet and tossed a few bills on the table.

“I’ll take care of it,” I’d told Gunnar. “Go on to work.”

“You sure, man?” he’d asked.

I’d nodded. “Got nothing else to do today. I’ll meet you back at the cabin just before dinner.”

“Did someone call for coffee?” I asked now.

She looked up. She’d been standing behind the podium that served as their checkout desk, tablet in hand, but now she looked up, eyes wide. Those eyes shifted from the two disposable cups I held to my face.

“You again,” she said. The words might seem off-putting in any other tone, but there was warmth in the way she said them, and her eyes were sparkling almost as much as her hat. I’d take it.

“I was having breakfast at the diner. The server seemed to know your normal coffee order.”

“Must be Tara,” she said. “She hooks me up with caffeine when I’m in town.”

I nodded and held out the cup. “Two sugars, peppermint syrup, and oat milk.”

It was written on the side of the cup, but I’d already committed it to memory.

She took the coffee from me, but that wasn’t what had my heart beating a little faster than usual. Her thumb brushed mine in the process, and just that little bit of contact sent my system into overdrive.

Did she feel it too? Our eyes held as she stepped back. She did seem to stumble a little.

“Your brother said you needed some help transporting a tree,” I said. “Someone named Mrs. Doyle?”

Her mouth fell open a little, her hand freezing with her coffee cup halfway to her lips. She lowered it and tilted her head as she stared at me.

“He said you’d need to come with me,” I added before she could respond.

She clearly wasn’t in on any of this. Luca could have at least told her.

Was Luca actually trying to set us up? That seemed crazy—what brother wanted his buddy dating his sister? Then again, the way he’d insisted I go with her…

“Mrs. Doyle,” she repeated slowly, like she was testing the name. “And he said I need to come with you?”

I nodded. “Something about customer service and making sure she’s happy with the tree selection.”

She took a sip of her coffee and studied me over the rim of the cup. “That’s…weird. Luca usually handles deliveries himself, and with someone like Mrs. Doyle. She’s kind of…” She waved her free hand in the air. “A lot.”

“Well, he seemed pretty insistent that he couldn’t do it today. Something about having to meet with a supplier.” I shrugged. “I figured it was no big deal. How hard can it be to deliver a Christmas tree?”

The look she gave me suggested I had no idea what I was getting into. “Right. Okay. Let me just grab my purse and lock up the register.” She disappeared into the little shed that served as their office, emerging a minute later with a crossbody bag slung over her shoulder.

“Which tree are we taking?” I asked.

I followed her to a perfectly shaped Fraser fir that had to be at least seven feet tall. Sure enough, a tag on it labeled it as belonging to Mrs. Doyle.

She bent to grab one end. “If we work together, we can probably get it loaded without too much—”

“Nope.” I gently moved her hands away from the tree. “I’ve got this.”

“It’s heavy,” she protested. “And awkward. Two people is definitely easier.”

“I’m sure it is, but I’d rather you didn’t throw your back out helping me.” I tested the weight of the tree, finding the balance point. “Besides, I’ve moved heavier things than this.”

She crossed her arms, looking skeptical. “Military training?”

“Something like that.” I hoisted the tree, getting a good grip on the trunk. “Could you grab my tailgate?”

She hurried ahead to my truck—a black pickup that had seen better days but still ran like a dream. I’d backed it up as close to the tree rows as I could get, so it was only about twenty feet to the truck bed.

The tree was heavy, and the branches kept trying to catch on everything, but I managed to wrestle it to the truck without too much trouble. Lainey had lowered the tailgate and was watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

“Impressive,” she said as I slid the tree into the bed and secured it with bungee cords. “Very caveman of you.”

I grinned at her. “Glad you approve. Ready to go?”

She glanced around the lot, and I could see her hesitation. A couple of teenagers were manning the register and helping customers browse, but it was clear she felt responsible for the place.

“They seem to have things under control,” I pointed out. “And your brother did say you needed to come with me.”

After another moment of indecision, she nodded. “You’re right. Let me just tell one of the part-timers that I’ll be back in an hour.” She jogged over to one of the teenagers, said something that made him nod, then jogged back to me. “Okay, let’s do this.”

I held the passenger door open for her, catching a whiff of something warm and sweet—vanilla maybe, or brown sugar—as she climbed up into the cab. My truck was big enough that she had to use the running board, and I tried not to notice the way her jeans hugged her ass as she settled into the seat.

“So,” I said as I climbed behind the wheel, “tell me about Mrs. Doyle.”

Lainey buckled her seatbelt and took another sip of her coffee. “Oh, where do I even start?” She turned slightly in her seat to face me. “Mrs. Doyle is…well, she’s an artist. A sculptor, mainly. And she’s absolutely obsessed with Christmas.”

“How obsessed are we talking?”

“Like, she starts decorating in October. She has at least four Christmas trees in her house at any given time during the season, plus outdoor decorations that would make Clark Griswold jealous.” Lainey’s voice was warm with affection.

“She’s completely free-spirited and independent and just…

fearless, you know? She does whatever makes her happy without caring what anyone else thinks. ”

I glanced over at her, noting the wistful tone in her voice. “Sounds like you admire that about her.”

“I do.” She stared out the window at the mountain scenery flying past. “I think about what I want to be like when I’m her age, and that’s it. Free-spirited. Independent. Just living life on my own terms.”

“But?” I could hear the ‘but’ in her voice.

She laughed, a self-deprecating sound. “But I don’t think I’m actually built that way.

I mean, I love the idea of it, but deep down?

I think I’m more traditional than I want to admit.

I’ll probably end up finding Mr. Right, settling down, having a bunch of kids and at least two dogs. The whole suburban dream.”

“What’s wrong with that?” The question came out before I could stop it. “Sounds pretty perfect to me, actually.”

She turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Really. I mean, the free-spirit thing is great and all, but there’s something to be said for building a life with someone.

Having a family.” I felt heat creep up my neck.

We barely knew each other, and here I was talking about wanting kids.

“I’ve always figured I’d want at least three kids.

Maybe just one dog, though. Dogs are a lot of work. ”

“Three kids?” She was smiling now, and something in my chest loosened at the sight of it. “That’s very specific.”

“What can I say? I like big families. What about you? How many kids are we talking when you find Mr. Right?”

“I don’t know. Three sounds good, actually. Maybe four if the first three are easy.” She was quiet for a moment. “It’s funny talking about this stuff. I don’t usually…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Think about it this much, I guess. Or talk about it with anyone.” She fidgeted with her coffee cup. “I’ve been so focused on my career and my friendships that dating kind of took a backseat. But now I’m starting to worry that time’s running out.”

I nearly choked on my own coffee. “Running out? How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Twenty-three.” I shook my head, grinning. “Jesus, Lainey. You’ve got plenty of time.”

“Do I, though? I mean, I have basically zero experience with any of this. Dating, relationships...” She trailed off, her cheeks turning pink.

Something in her tone made me look at her closer. The flush in her cheeks, the way she wasn’t quite meeting my eyes…

“Zero experience,” I repeated slowly.

“Pretty much.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I mean, I’ve been kissed. A few times. But never anything more than that.”

My hands tightened on the steering wheel as the implication hit me. “Are you saying you’re…?”

“A virgin? Yeah.”

She said it so matter-of-factly that I nearly drove the truck off the road. “Shit.”

I jerked the wheel, correcting our course as my brain tried to process this information. Lainey Rossi was a virgin. Beautiful, smart, funny Lainey who made my pulse race just by brushing her thumb against mine was completely inexperienced.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not exactly the kind of information you share with someone you barely know.”

“No, it’s…it’s fine.” I cleared my throat, trying to get my head back in the game. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I mean, look at you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re gorgeous and smart, and any guy would be lucky to—” I stopped myself before I could say something that would make this conversation even more awkward than it already was.

“Oh.” Her voice was small. “Thanks.”

We drove in silence for a few minutes, the weight of her confession settling between us. I kept stealing glances at her, noting the way she was staring out the window, the slight slump to her shoulders. Had I made her feel bad somehow?

“For what it’s worth,” I said finally, “there’s nothing wrong with waiting. With taking your time to find the right person.”

She looked at me then, vulnerability in her expression. “Do you really think that?”

“I do.” And I meant it. The thought of Lainey with some random guy who didn’t appreciate what he had made my stomach clench with something that felt suspiciously like jealousy.

Before I could examine that feeling too closely, we rounded a bend in the road and Mrs. Doyle’s cabin came into view.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, hitting the brakes harder than I’d intended.

The cabin itself was charming enough—a rustic log structure nestled among towering pines.

But the decorations… Christ, the decorations were something else entirely.

Every available surface was covered in lights, garland, wreaths, and inflatable lawn ornaments.

There had to be at least a dozen different Santa figures scattered across the front yard, along with reindeer, snowmen, candy canes, and what appeared to be a life-sized nativity scene.

“I tried to warn you,” Lainey said, and I could hear the laughter in her voice. “Mrs. Doyle doesn’t do anything halfway.”

I parked the truck and just sat there for a moment, taking it all in. “This is…a lot.”

“Wait until you see the inside,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Come on. Let’s go meet the Christmas queen herself.”