Page 4 of Soul of the Mountain (Curves in Hope Mountain #2)

SULLIVAN

S weat drips down my forehead, and I wipe it away before it can sting my eyes.

I’ve been out here chopping wood for the last hour, and thankfully, I only have one more log to split.

It’s hard work, but right now it’s a great distraction from the curvy real estate agent I’ll probably never see again.

Who am I kidding? Gabby hasn’t left my thoughts for more than five minutes since I dropped her off at Grady’s this morning. As much as I don’t want to like her, I find the woman… intriguing. Bits of our conversation have been floating around in my head all day.

I don’t need anything from anyone. That’s at the core of what she projects to the world with her cold demeanor. Someone close to her broke her trust, and she hasn’t allowed herself to depend on anyone since.

My heart damn near cracked in two when Deirdra gave Gabby one of her famous hugs, second only to my gran.

I thought Gabby was going to wiggle her way out of it.

Instead, she nearly collapsed into the older woman’s arms. I felt the weight of whatever still haunts her.

I saw the moment Gabby surrendered to someone else’s kindness, and it made me want to be the person who provides that for her.

Not that any of that matters now. Gabby is gone, likely arriving in Denver in the next hour or so.

She’ll be back in the big city, where she can order fancy coffee and use her own hairdryer.

I’ll be here, looking after the inn and keeping up my side business of building websites.

I don’t have much to offer someone like Gabby, but like I said, it’s a moot point.

I swing the axe down one last time, grunting as my muscles strain with the effort. Tossing the axe aside, I gather the firewood into smaller bundles to carry inside.

When the last of the wood is stacked next to the fireplace in the main lobby, I finish up a few admin tasks at the front desk. Something outside the window catches my attention, and I furrow my brow when I see Grady’s van pull up to the inn.

A second later, Gabby hops out of the passenger side with her duffel bag and purse in tow.

Grady says something to her through his rolled-down window, and she nods in acknowledgment.

The van pulls away, leaving the curvy woman I promised myself I would stop thinking about standing in the front yard of Willow Tree Inn.

Her shoulders drop, the motion making her duffel bag slip off her shoulder and fall to the ground.

Gabby doesn’t make a move to pick it up; she just stands there with her eyes closed.

She looks so fragile at this moment, absolutely defeated and exhausted.

I don’t think she’d appreciate my spying on her while she’s so vulnerable, but it gives me a better picture of who she is.

I wonder if she ever lets anyone see behind the mask.

I watch as she wipes her eyes and pats herself on the cheeks a few times as if amping herself up to come inside. By the time she picks up her duffel bag and walks up the porch stairs, she’s built those walls around her heart even higher.

The front door opens and closes, and I busy myself with shuffling papers around so Gabby doesn’t know I was looking at her through the window.

“Miss me already?” I ask when she approaches the desk.

Gabby tries her best to glare at me, but I see the way her lips press together as if hiding a grin. I’d love to see her real smile one day.

“The coffee, actually. Mrs. Bishop brews a mean cup, and I need another fix.”

I smirk at her response, and she surprises me by returning it, however briefly. Gabby looks like she’s mad at herself for showing any emotion at all. I have no idea what gave her such a chip on her shoulder at such a young age, but I have a driving need to find out.

As I take in more of her features, I realize how much younger she is than me. Without knowing an exact age, I’m guessing I’m at least a dozen years her senior. That should be enough for me to drop whatever silly fascination I have with her. Instead, a protective streak rises to the surface.

I don’t see Gabby as the detached, stuck-up city girl I originally thought she was. I don’t know what her story is, but it’s certainly not as cliché as that.

“I don’t suppose your car has anything to do with it?” I ask after waiting a beat too long to answer. Something about her has me insanely curious. It could be that we hardly ever have visitors around here, but deep down, I know it’s more than that.

Gabby sighs as she digs through her purse. “It sustained more damage than originally thought. Some of the parts need to be shipped, which means you’re stuck with me for at least two more days.” Without looking at me, she hands me her credit card to pay for the room.

“Why don’t you keep your card, and we’ll settle up when you check out?” I know car repairs are usually expensive, and I would hate for her not to have the funds. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d cut a deal with a guest in a tough spot.

“That won’t be necessary. I would like to pay for two nights now, and then you can keep my card on file in case I need to stay another night.”

When I don’t make a move to take her card, she huffs out a frustrated breath. What is with this woman and accepting kindness?

“I don’t like owing people money,” she says bluntly.

There it is. I should have guessed. Gabby doesn’t want to owe me anything or be indebted to me in any way, which speaks volumes.

I’ve never considered myself a brilliant man, but I know how to read between the lines.

She was taken advantage of at some point in her life and doesn’t trust anyone or anything.

“Fine.” I take her card and pretend to type in the numbers, though I don’t plan on charging her. The stubborn woman can’t even accept a gift.

I hand her the key to the same room she was in last night and watch her walk down the hallway. I swear I try not to stare at her ass, but Jesus, the things I want to do…

Stop it. Don’t even go there.

After a long shower and cleaning up my living area on the third floor of the inn, I make my way back down to the main lobby. It started raining a few minutes ago, so I might get a few guests coming in from the unexpected storm.

I grab the thriller novel I’ve been slowly working my way through and build a fire in the fireplace to give myself the perfect cozy atmosphere to read.

With the rain outside, the warmth of the fire inside, and a good book in my hands, I’m set up for a nice and quiet evening.

If only I could stop thinking about Gabby.

As if I’ve conjured her up, I hear Gabby padding down the hallway, presumably to yell at me about something. I can’t help the grin spreading across my face. I can’t wait.

“It’s raining,” she says, not bothering to greet me.

I nod in response, which earns me a glare.

“Well, when is it going to stop?”

“No idea. Rain wasn’t in the forecast.”

“I know. I looked it up. I always know when storms are coming, but then this… ugh!” She huffs in frustration.

I’m not sure why the storm has her so riled up. “Are you a storm tracker?”

“God, no,” she replies with a surprising amount of disgust. “I just like being prepared for every situation.”

That checks out. Always in control. Always one step ahead. “What about surprise parties? Or spontaneous weekend trips?”

“Overrated.”

Her flat tone pulls a chuckle from me. “What if a date took you to a new restaurant? Or a movie you haven’t seen the trailer for?”

“A fate worse than death,” she deadpans. “Besides, it’s not like I’ve ever been in either of those situations.”

Her cheeks glow bright red at the admission that she’s never been on a date. It shouldn’t make me possessive or give me crazy ideas of keeping the jaded yet fragile woman forever. But damn it if I don’t want to be all her firsts.

“Storms around here can be unpredictable,” I say, going back to her original topic. I don’t want her to feel embarrassed around me.

“That’s not helpful,” she mutters.

Gabby paces in front of the fireplace, glancing out of the big bay window across the room every so often.

She’s so intense right now. I mean, she’s always intense, but this…

this is something else. Gabby is on edge, though I’m not sure if it’s just because her plans have been delayed yet again or something deeper.

I notice she’s shivering slightly, so I get up from my spot on the couch and add another log to the fire. “You can’t control everything,” I tell her.

“I can try,” comes her automatic response.

“What’s so terrifying about letting go? Isn’t it exhausting to always be the one pulling the strings?”

Gabby pauses her frantic, almost manic pacing and turns to face me.

Her hazel eyes are more brown than green as they reflect the amber glow of the flames.

She furrows her brow and tilts her head to the side, studying everything about me.

I have no idea what she’s looking for, but I pray she finds it.

I’m not sure how or when it happened, but my new goal in life is to get Gabby to relax and feel safe, even when she’s not in control of every little detail.

She opens her mouth, likely to scold me for prying into her life, but the lights flicker before going out altogether. A second later, the air is filled with a deafening crack of thunder.

Before I realize what’s happening, Gabby yelps and then flings herself into my arms. I catch her and hold her close, too shocked to say anything. The usually prickly and sarcastic woman is trembling from head to toe, and her face is buried in my chest as she tries to suppress her sobs.

My heart shatters for her in this moment. Gabby’s fear is like a physical presence. I swear I can feel it suffocating her with each labored breath. What the hell happened to her?

A deep boom of thunder rattles the windowpanes, sending Gabby into another fit of tears. It all clicks into place. Gabby wasn’t angry with me when she stomped in and demanded an itinerary for the inclement weather. She was terrified of the storm.

I gently guide us toward the couch, though I’m practically carrying Gabby since she can’t seem to move.

I don’t mind. As crazy as it sounds, I like having her back in my arms again.

It kills me that she was probably feeling this way last night during the storm, too.

I was sleeping just a floor above her. If I had known…

Well, I’m here now. That’s all that matters.

Gabby clings to me once I get us settled on the couch. Her fists clutch the fabric of my shirt as if the wind and rain are going to blow us both away at any moment. I’m glad I thought to build a fire, since it’s the only light and heat we’ll have until the power comes back on.

My fingers smooth over her back and shoulders in what I hope is a comforting gesture.

Gabby snuggles deeper, as if she’s trying to dissolve into me.

I have no idea what caused this kind of reaction, but it’s so much deeper than just this storm.

Whatever this woman has been trying so hard to hide is about to come out.

I take slow and steady breaths, hoping to calm her down. With each inhale, I smell her cinnamon and sugar scent, and with each exhale, I grow more determined to figure out what makes this woman tick.