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Chapter One
Charlotte Barnes stepped out of a wicked, icy wind the weekend before Thanksgiving and muscled shut Wilber Jennings’s heavy front door. Between those ferocious gusts and looming dark clouds, it seemed the weatherman had finally gotten it right. Marietta was on the brink of this season’s first major winter storm. Thankfully, she had zero plans to go anywhere before Sunday evening, having committed to house—and animal—sitting for her parents’ aging neighbor. And with as busy as she’d be in the coming weeks, a weekend alone in this quiet, cozy cabin was exactly what she needed.
Having to deal with grouchy procrastinators, who loved to bring their last-minute holiday packages to her post office and then gripe about the prices being too high and delivery speeds too slow, would soon have her a mountain lion’s whisker away from burnout.
Hopefully, the snowstorm would pass quickly, though, and the roads be marginally clear by the time Wilber got home—she would be missing her ten-year-old son, Hudson, something fierce by then. Missed him already, truth be told. But she knew the old saying about how a person couldn’t pour from an empty cup, and hers was darned near empty. So, when her mom volunteered to keep Hudson in town for the weekend, Charlotte jumped at her chance for the first solo weekend in years.
She wouldn’t trade her boy for the world, but single-momming could be exhausting.
Charlotte peeled off her faded Carhartt jacket and hung it on an open hook in the entryway. She’d opted for function over fashion this weekend. If Wilber’s place lost power, she’d be lugging wood inside to keep a fire burning and sure to get messy. It’d happened twice over the years, and with that storm blowing in, she didn’t dare assume it couldn’t happen again. Also, going home wouldn’t be an option—she was here to make sure neither the pipes nor the collection of small animals in Wilber’s adjoining minibarn froze. The buildings needed steady heat to ensure that.
A slow scan of the room brought a smile to her face. Wilber’s sweet wife, Ruth, had passed some fifteen years ago, now, that awful Parkinson’s finally getting the best of her. But Ruth’s homey touch was still visible in every corner of the place—ivory doilies on each end table, hand-knit blankets draped over the couch and adjacent recliners, spider plants strung by macramé at each window, framed photographs of their children and grandchildren on the mantel. They’d all traded Marietta for the East Coast eons ago.
She’d never understood their decision to leave Montana. What could the Carolinas possibly offer that would beat Big Sky country?
As welcoming as the interior decor had remained, it was the view that stood beyond giant floor-to-ceiling picture windows that Charlotte loved most of all. What she wouldn’t give to have that kind of view in her own home one day. Sure, her and Hudson’s small rental place north of downtown was nice enough, but the view of the neglected house across the street with its sagging front porch and long-dead potted plants was nothing to get excited about.
This view, however, was everything. Forest. Stream. Copper Mountain in the distance. Wildlife roaming across the land as it pleased. It was no wonder Wilber had built the cabin to face the way it did, or why the widower refused to leave even after he’d sold off his cattle.
A lot of families had backed away from cattle when disease hit the area a number of years back, her family included. Some ranches bounced back without a scratch. Some, like Wilber’s, pivoted and started new ventures, swapping out raising cattle for other specialty animals like Highland cows and pygmy goats. Her family had tried to pivot but never really found their groove, the struggle weighing heavily on her ever-proud father.
He, of course, blamed their misfortune on the Miles family.
Just a few miles beyond the edge of Wilber’s snow-covered land stood the Miles family’s Flying J Ranch, one of the most successful cattle ranches in the area. She’d never understood her father’s hatred for that family or why their lies told at a county fair all those years ago had so much effect on her family. Heck, she’d gone to school with several of them, and they’d been normal, down-to-earth kids. But then the Miles’s curse had found her this past summer, when they’d halted the construction of a huge, new local resort, and all her father had been able to say since then was, “I told you so.”
Yes, she’d been madder than a housecat tossed out in the rain when megadeveloper Terakion had backed out of business negotiations with her at the last minute. But that didn’t mean she planned to sit around stewing about it. One way or another, she’d find a way to succeed without the financial backing of big business—one that even the Miles family couldn’t sabotage next time.
But she had no intention of letting thoughts about that family ruin her perfect one-woman getaway. A whole weekend to herself—it’d been hard to imagine what this would be like. Now that she was here, reality was starting to set in. For the first time in years, Charlotte was darn near giddy.
What to do first? Check on the animals? Light a fire in the fireplace? Curl up with a good book and cup of hot chocolate? Binge some Hallmark movies and crack open her bottle of cheap wine?
“Why rush? I can do whatever the hell I want, all weekend long.”
Snowflakes were beginning to fall now, swirling in the unrelenting wind like a real-life snow globe. She stood, mesmerized. Lord, she used to love watching it snow as a kid. Would sit for hours, counting big fluffy flakes as they drifted to the earth. How long had it been since she’d allowed herself the time to just sit and be still?
Something caught her eye in the distance, straight out from where she sat, just short of where Wilber’s yard faded to forest. Something tall and brown. A moose? Bear? Charlotte wasn’t sure, but she looked to Wilber’s old gun safe. There was no sense in opening it yet, but in case of emergency, she knew the code. And if that didn’t work, she had her own Remington 12-gauge pump shotgun with its fold down stock behind the driver’s seat in her Tacoma.
Such was life in Montana.
She watched the animal—a moose, she decided—until it disappeared into the woods. That was her, once upon a time. Wild and carefree, doing whatever she pleased, whenever she pleased. This weekend, she planned to get back to her roots if only for a while.
Grinning, she continued on toward the master bedroom, the hallway’s slightly musty smell greeting her like an old friend. Only one bed remained in this place, the other bedrooms long ago converted into a den and an office. Since Wilber’s animals wouldn’t need fed for at least another hour, she bypassed the door leading to the attached minibarn, dropped her duffle in the room that would be hers for the next few nights, and angled for the master bath and its beautiful clawfoot tub.
That, she decided, was the best way to kick off her responsibility-free weekend—a leisurely soak in the tub.
Soon, Charlotte was chin-deep in hot water and a mountain of luxurious bubbles, lights off and not a manmade sound to be heard. As soaker tubs went, it was everything hers wasn’t—deep, wide, and absolutely perfect. What she wouldn’t give to have a tub like this someday.
And a house this beautiful to put it in.
She sank deeper into the tub, a contented sigh escaping her. Oh, yeah, she was definitely adding a tub like this to her wish list. Though, her fantasy décor would be different from Wilber’s en suite. This was the only area of the house that he’d redecorated after becoming a widower. Gone were Ruth’s watercolors of Copper Mountain’s spring blooms, replaced by photographs of Wilber and his hunting buddies holding up their outing treasures. And then there were the guns—half a dozen antique shotguns and rifles—hanging from makeshift mounts on the walls.
Wilber had always loved his guns.
Whatever floats your boat, Mr. Jennings.
Charlotte rested her head against the tub’s ledge and let her eyelids drift shut. Now, this was the life. Nothing but her, a hot bath, and a cabin full of peace and quiet. If she wasn’t careful, she might accidentally doze off…
THUMP.
Charlotte opened one eye. Everything looked as it should.
Must have been something outside. A clump of heavy snow falling from a nearby pine onto the house, maybe. She closed her eyes and tried to relax once more.
SNICK. RATTLE.
Nope, those noises had definitely come from inside. On a frown, she looked toward the open bathroom door. It’d gone quiet again.
But the silence was soon broken by the pitter-pounding of little feet—the four-legged variety. Dang it, she should have grabbed a gun from Wilber’s safe when she’d first thought about it. What was it? A rat? Raccoon? It wasn’t a pygmy goat escapee; the cadence and pitch weren’t right. Well, at least she’d be safe here in the tub. No critter would seek out a human, especially when water was involved.
So why did it sound like the tiny footsteps were drawing closer?
And why hadn’t she thought to close the bathroom door?
A bark sounded in the hall, and a little black-and-white Shih tzu came sliding into view. They stared at each other for a moment. Hold up, since when did Wilber have a—
“What is it, girl?” asked a male voice from the living room. “Did you find something?”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. Someone was in the house?! But how? She’d locked all the doors hours ago!
“Scat,” she said in a hiss to the dog. Instead, the little puffball barked again and did a half-bounce, half-stomp in the doorway to the bathroom. It was ratting her out!
“Hello?”
Charlotte’s gaze slid to the antique Remington mounted on the wall beside her. She doubted Wilber would keep a loaded gun hanging in his bathroom, but what the intruder didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. She stretched to snatch the gun from its mount, sank back into the tub, and aimed for the door, praying this would work.
“Whoever you are, you’re trespassing on private property,” she called in as deep and raspy a voice as she could muster. “I’m giving you to the count of three to take your dog and get out of here before I turn you both into Swiss cheese.”
Jaxon Miles froze just outside the hallway leading to Wilber Jenning’s master suite. Trespassing? He was here because he’d agreed to house-sit for their family’s longtime friend. It was that or stay home with his family, who would continue to pepper him about his dating life and when he planned to get to settling down. House-sitting had seemed the safer option this weekend. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
“One…” the trespasser called.
Jaxon whistled for his dog, who stood her ground. His little princess had been protective of him from the day he’d rescued her from that shelter outside of Shorkin. Most days it was cute. Today, she was breaking him into a sweat.
“Molly! Come here,” he half-whispered, half-ordered.
She ignored his command and barked again at the real trespasser.
“Two…”
On a soft curse, Jaxon hurried forward, intending to grab Molly and get the hell out of here. Though, with the roads as bad as they were, he wasn’t sure they’d get very far.
“Three—”
“Don’t shoot!” he cried, diving for his dog. The action startled Molly, who darted away from him … and straight into Wilber’s room. Jaxon pushed up to a crawling position and turned toward the open door, praying his dog was within reach. Unfortunately, she was a good twelve feet away, barking at the open door to the suite’s huge bathroom. He army-crawled his way forward to collect Molly but stopped well short of her when the barrel of a shotgun appeared over the edge of Wilber’s old claw-foot tub.
Jaxon’s heart pounded in his chest as he raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just trying to get my dog.”
One second passed. Then two. A low growl rang out as the barrel withdrew.
“Jaxon Miles, what in tarnation are you doing here?”
A grin split his face as he squinted into the unlit room, trying to get a better look at the woman whose voice he’d know anywhere. Unfortunately, a mound of bubbles was currently blocking his view. It wasn’t long before the face of his childhood crush rose above them.
Though it’d been years since he’d seen her, Charlotte Barnes looked as wild and beautiful as he remembered, her blonde hair twirled into a high, messy bun. From here, that was all he could see. But, oh, what he wouldn’t give to see the rest of her.
Then again, the night was young. Plenty of time and opportunities lay ahead.
“I could ask the same of you, Char,” he said, rising to sit back on his haunches and try for a better look. Nope, those stupid bubbles were still in his way. “You about gave this old boy a heart attack.”
She set her gun across the tub with a snort. “Like we could ever get that lucky.”
“We?” His smile wavered. Was there someone else here?
“Yeah, we. As in the town of Marietta. We knew you way before you became a big shot. Doesn’t make you any more special than the rest of us.”
“Gotcha. For a minute, I thought maybe your whole family was up here.”
“Nope.” Her gaze shifted from his, a telltale sign that she’d just laid all her cards out on the table. “A good thing too. Pa wouldn’t have spared you or your little fluffball. Me, I’m still thinking on it.”
Jaxon grinned at the lack of bite in those words. Sure, she could go on until she was blue in the face that her family and his were sworn enemies, but those stories were all stuff and nonsense, and they both knew it. Just like they both knew she still owed him some closet time from that interrupted Spin the Bottle game the night before their high school graduation.
Seventeen years ago or not, the thought of her finally paying up widened his grin. After all, the right kiss in a cabin in the woods had the potential to become a whole lot more.
Her eyes narrowed in response.
“And stop with the grinning. Ain’t you ever seen a woman in a tub before?”
His eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting, but those wretched bubbles were still blocking all but the tops of her bare shoulders. Man, he wished they’d hurry up and evaporate so he could see the rest of her. Char had always been on the short side, a little thin and a lot curvy. But, as she did still have that gun within reach, he thought it wise to smooth the amusement from his face.
Molly sensed the reduced tension in the air and came over to flop on her back before him, her universal sign for scratch my belly. He didn’t move fast enough, and she sneezed to show her displeasure. The light mist moved him to action.
Princess placated, he looked back to Char and said, “Not one I’d caught trespassing.”
“Trespassing?” She shook her head. “You’re the one who’s trespassing, buddy. Wilber hired me to watch his place while he’s out east for a few days.”
Too bad Jaxon knew better. “No, he asked me to watch his place while he was gone.”
Another snort. “Right. Like anyone around here would ask you to do anything besides play rodeo celebrity, Jax.”
His grin returned. Yeah, she was still bitter that those rodeo scouts had picked him over her back in high school. Not that her parents would have let her leave even if the scouts had given her the nod.
Jaxon had chores growing up on the Flying J, but nothing like what her parents gave her. Once she got past second grade, he hardly saw hide nor hair of her. And not just because their families had self-appointed themselves as the local Hatfields and McCoys a few generations back. No, she’d been too busy doing chores to be allowed to go out and play. Which sucked, because for a time, he’d sure missed his friend.
“Contrary to what you may think, I’m actually a multitalented guy.”
She threw him a flat look. “Sure, cowboy. You just keep telling yourself that.”
Jaxon shrugged. Roping and riding weren’t the only things he’d been raised to do. He put the ranch-life skills his father had taught him as a boy to use on tour, doing charity and volunteer work in between events. Rather than argue the point, he let it go. Besides, it’d always been far more fun teasing than fighting Charlotte Barnes.
“Oh, it’s true. I’m thinking you know it, too, since you were too scared to pay up at Spin the Bottle when it was your turn.”
“I wasn’t scared of you then, just like I ain’t scared of you now.” Her cheeks flushed red. “And it was your granny who interrupted that stupid game, not me. Good thing, too, or I’d have come out from the closet and told everyone what a horrible kisser you were.”
He arched a brow her way. “Except I wasn’t.”
“Didn’t matter.” She leaned back, her eyes closing. “I wasn’t gonna kiss you anyway.”
“Even if you owed me?”
“I didn’t owe you nuthin’.”
Jaxon looked to Molly and shook his head. Char was being stubborn as a mule, but she couldn’t hold out on him forever. One kiss, that was all he’d ever asked of her since they were five years old. She’d begged him to go explore an old miner’s cave they’d found on the edge of his property that they’d been forbidden to go near. That was Char—always looking for an adventure, consequences be damned. He’d agreed to go if she promised to kiss him in return. They shook on it, and he’d held up his end of the bargain—though, they’d only made it a handful of steps past the boarded-over opening before they heard his brother calling for them and had to retreat. Char, however, had never made good on her promise, even in high school when the bottle spun and landed on her.
But with the snow outside coming down faster than a buffalo on roller skates, they were all gonna be stuck here for the foreseeable future. His optimism grew. “Except you did and still do owe me, and you know it. Lucky for you, we’ve got all weekend to correct that.”
Her head lifted off the back of the tub. “What did you just say?”
“Don’t worry, darling, you go ahead and finish your bath. In fact, you take as long as you’d like. I’ve waited this many years, what’s a few minutes more?” He gave Molly a wink and scooped her up, then turned for the door.
“Jax, you are not staying.”
He smirked. Little Miss Sassy Bubbles sounded a little less confident now. “Just holler if I can get you anything. I aim to please.”
He stepped from the bathroom. Water sloshed behind him.
“Jaxon Miles, this is my house-sitting gig,” she called after him. “I’m staying, not you.”
“Hey, no worries—you can keep whatever Wilber offered to pay you,” he said over one shoulder. “We do still need to figure out sleeping arrangements, though. You’re a better fit for the couch, so I should take the bed. Of course, I don’t mind sharing.”
Jax pulled the door closed behind him, grinning, as an enraged voice rang out—
“Jaxon Bartholomew Miles, you are NOT staying here this weekend!”
Yep, just like the good old days—Char taking charge and barking orders. Only, he wasn’t the same naive pushover he’d been as a kid. He’d long ago learned to stand his ground; the rodeo circuit had taught him as much.
And this time, he was determined to get that kiss.
He set Molly on the floor and made his way back to the living room. “Sorry, Char, but we sure are.”
End of Excerpt
