Heart of the Mountain Read online

  Heart of the Mountain

  Frankie Love

  C.M. Seabrook

  Edited by My Brother’s Editor

  Cover by Mayhem Cover Creations Copyright © and 2019 by Frankie Love and C.M. Seabrook

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Heart of the Mountain

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue I

  Epilogue II

  Also by Frankie & C.M.

  Frankie Love

  C.M. Seabrook

  Heart of the Mountain

  An angel.

  It’s the worst rainstorm in history when I find her unconscious in the woods.

  Sent from Heaven.

  She’s lost and alone, a newborn baby in her arms.

  I will protect them.

  My cabin is their shelter from the storm. Under my care, no one can hurt them.

  Whatever the cost.

  But I’m not who she thinks I am.

  And if she finds out, she’ll keep on running.

  My home is her home, my heart, her heart.

  And I sure as hell don’t want to break it.

  Dear Reader,

  Were you missing the mountains as much as we were?!

  James is the virgin burly bearded baby daddy you’ve been waiting for.

  Can you say that three times fast?

  Try it.

  A little louder now. Harder. Harder.

  Yes. Yes.

  Wait for it.

  Ohhh, yessss.

  Just.Like.That.

  He likes it when you scream his name.

  We like it when you come back for more. :)

  Xo, Frankie & Chantel

  Chapter One

  James

  Rain comes down in sheets around me, making it nearly impossible to see five feet in front of me. The river has swelled and the single bridge into town is impassible.

  “Shit,” I mutter, knowing it’ll be a good week before the water recedes, and that’s if the rain lets up.

  At least I was smart enough to stock up on supplies the last time I headed down the mountain. And even if I do run low on canned and dried goods, I’m a more than capable hunter. I may not have grown up as a mountain man, but that’s what I’ve become these past five years.

  And while I sometimes miss having people to talk to, I know the alternative is worse than being alone.

  I have my books to keep me company, and my old yellow lab, Banjo, who’s currently barking at something hidden in the foliage. I whistle for him, knowing we need to get back to my cabin before the storm gets worse. Black, ominous clouds are rolling in, and thunder cracks in the distance. Rain continues to hammer down hard, making the path muddy and dangerous.

  “Banjo, come here, boy,” I call out.

  The stubborn dog is whimpering now, nose stuck in the bushes.

  “What do you have there?” I ask, walking toward him. I’m a few feet away when I realize that it’s a woman under the foliage, her eyes closed, her face deathly pale. I rush toward her, pushing her auburn hair away from her forehead, which is ice cold. I press my fingertips to her neck, feeling for a pulse. For a second, I feel nothing, and I fear the worst, but then it’s there, faint, but there.

  A small whimper comes from her lips, and her eyes flutter slightly. “He-help.”

  “Okay,” I say, trying to keep the alarm out of my voice. “I’m going to help you—”

  A cry rings out, faint, but distinguishable. And when I lift her slightly in my arms, I see the baby that she cradles close to her chest.

  Fuck. What kind of trouble is the girl in? And why the hell is she out in the middle of the woods with a newborn? There’s only one explanation - she’s running from someone.

  The last thing I need is trouble. It’s what I’ve been hiding away from up in these mountains all these years. But I know I can’t leave her. She’ll die, and so will the baby.

  They’re both my responsibility now. At least until this rain lets up and I can drive them into town.

  As carefully as I can, I lift the woman in my arms, doing my best not to hurt either her or the child. The infant bleats louder as I trek up the hill toward my cabin. It’s a hungry cry. I’ve been around enough babies in my life to know that.

  “This is not going to end well,” I mumble as I use my foot to open the door to my cabin, grateful I left the fire burning, because the place is warm. Banjo follows me inside, looking at me like he knows trouble is brewing.

  “It’ll be fine,” I say, more to myself than the dog as I lay the woman down on my bed.

  I pull blankets around her, and she gives a small whimper when I take the baby from her arms. It’s my first priority, knowing if it catches a fever, there’s nothing I’ll be able to do to save it. And with the bridge washed out, I’ll never be able to get them to a hospital.

  “I’m just going to get you both warm,” I tell her, even though her eyes only open momentarily, before fluttering close again. I can’t imagine what the girl has gone through, and I just hope I found them in time.

  I work fast, unbundling the infant from its wet clothes, and wrapping it in warm blankets, rocking her until she settles. It’s a little girl, her hair the same reddish hue as her mother’s, and judging from the fact that she still has her umbilical cord, she’s less than two weeks old.

  “It’s okay, little sparrow,” I murmur, cradling her against my chest.

  I have no idea what to do about food. I have no bottles, no milk. But thankfully the infant soothes, falling back to sleep, and I’m able to create a makeshift crib out of a dresser drawer and blankets.

  When she’s settled, I turn toward the woman lying in my bed. Her eyes are still closed, but she’s trembling, and muttering incoherently in her sleep.

  “Hey,” I say, crouching beside her. “I need to get you out of your wet clothes.”

  Her lashes flutter open, and in the firelight, I catch a glimpse of browns, greens, and gold in her eyes, swirls of color that give me pause. She’s beautiful, there’s no denying that. But she’s also in trouble. And she’s going to be in even more trouble if I don’t get her warm.

  “I’m going to undress you, okay?”

  She blinks, but then her eyes close again. As I start to peel the layers away, she barely responds. I try to be as gentle as I can with her, especially when I see the dark bruises on her arms.

  “Fuck.” Something stirs in my chest, a primal part of me that knows I have to protect her.

  I loosen the buttons on her jeans, then peel them down over her hips. The woman is all curves that make my cock immediately stand at attention, but I try not to notice how fucking sexy the girl is, or how her breasts fill out the sheer bra she wears.

  I try and avert my eyes as I lift her up and place her head and arms through one of my oversized sweatshirts, but I’m no saint, and by the time I’m finished, my balls are aching with a hunger that I’ve never experienced before.

  It doesn’t help that I’ve spent the last five years practically a hermit.

  Sure, I’ve had offers when I’ve gone into town. But I’m not the kind of guy that messes around. And I’m also not the kind of guy who’s exactly relationship material. Which means I’m a twenty-four-year-old virgi
n without many prospects.

  I let out a heavy sigh as I take her wet clothes and hang them to dry.

  She’s got nothing on her, no form of identification, and she dozes back off before I can find out her story. I wrap a heavy wool quilt over her, knowing that right now what she needs more than anything is rest.

  Her baby cries, and I pull her to my chest, not wanting to wake her mama. “Shhh, little sparrow,” I whisper, looking out the cabin window at the turbulent rainstorm outside. “I got you now. It’s okay.”

  I hold her close, praying she doesn’t catch a cold, that she can recover from whatever hell her and her mama we’re running from. It’s a wild world out there, and nothing is sacred - not if you’ve seen what I’ve seen, or done what I’ve done.

  But as the baby falls asleep in my arms, I know these two will be stronger for getting through whatever they’ve overcome. If they can survive the storm, they’ll never fear the rain.

  Chapter 2

  Marcie

  Warmth surrounds me, and I snuggle deeper into it, not wanting to wake up. But there’s something nagging at the back of my mind, a responsibility, or something I should be doing.

  And then I hear a baby’s cry, and I’m fully awake. I blink quickly,and sit up too fast, the world spinning as I try to focus.

  “Lily,” I cry out, memories flooding through my mind.

  My sister Amy.

  Her last words.

  The pink, screaming, innocent bundle that was placed in my arms.

  And then running.

  Two days I ran. And stole. And hid.

  It was a nightmare, thinking that at any moment they would find me. Find Lily.

  But the running wasn’t the worst of it. It was my niece's cries, trying to prepare bottles from the formula I’d stolen over a pitiful campfire.

  And then the rain started, and it wouldn’t stop.

  I got turned around in the woods, walked and walked until my feet were bleeding and exhaustion took over.

  “She’s right here,” a deep, voice says from across the room.

  Panic fills me, especially when I see the giant of a man walking toward me, holding Lily. There’s something familiar about him. Something I can’t place. Like I know him, even though I know we’ve never met.

  “Where...where am I?” I glance around, my body still aching from sleeping outside on the hard ground, the cold rain and wind seeping into my bones until I couldn’t walk anymore.

  “You’re safe. For now.” He places Lily in my arms carefully, like he’s been around babies all his life, even though he looks like he’d be more comfortable with an ax in his hand than a bottle. “I found you out in the woods and brought you back here.”

  “Where is here?”

  “My cabin. We’re twenty miles from Fox Hollow.” He runs a large palm over his beard and shakes his head. “How the hell did you get here?”

  “I...I walked.”

  He frowns at me. “From town?”

  I bite my lower lip, looking down at my niece. Tears fill my eyes at the painful memories, and I know I have to lie. If I want to give Lily a future - I have to. No one can know she’s not mine. “Yeah, I was running...from my boyfriend.”

  The man continues to run a hand over his thick beard, studying me, something so familiar about those blue eyes. “He the one who hurt you?” he asks, fists clenching at his side. “Who bruised you black and blue?”

  I swallow, then frown. “You saw my body?”

  He looks away. “I had to get you changed, you were half unconscious and soaked through, and I needed to make sure this baby’s mama would wake up.”

  A sharp pain stabs me. Lily’s mama will never wake up. I press my lips against Lily’s forehead, remembering the way Amy looked at me as she took her final breaths, the way she begged me to take care of her daughter.

  “Thank you,” I say, sitting up. “But I need to go. I need to—”

  “You aren’t going anywhere,” he says, cutting me off. “The only bridge out of the woods collapsed, and the storm is only getting worse. We’re stuck here for at least a few days.”

  “I...I can’t stay here,” I say, hating the idea of staying with a man. My body curls in on itself, fear winding its way up my spine. The only men I’ve ever known were intent on hurting me ... and this man is bigger than all the rest. His arms are huge, the flannel shirt he wears is tight around his biceps and broad shoulders. And even though he doesn’t look like he’s going to hurt me, he’s still a man.

  “You don’t have a choice.” He sits on a chair opposite the bed and clasps his hands together. “Look, my name is James. I live out here, all alone. And I can see how that might be scary, but I won’t hurt you. I want to protect you from whoever you’re running from.”

  I look over at him, expecting to feel the familiar slice of fear cutting through me, but when our eyes meet, there is none of that. Instead, I see true concern in his eyes ... and something else too. It’s not lust... it’s different than that. Compassion?

  Whatever it is, it’s not something I’ve ever seen in the hell that I just escaped from.

  Blinking my emotions away, I refuse to consider that. No man has ever tried to keep me safe, protected, or sheltered from the brutality of the world. Why should James be any different? But right now I have no choice but to try and trust him.

  “Want to tell me your name?” he asks, patience in his words. Another thing I’m not used to.

  “I’m Marcie,” I tell him, knowing I have to stay here until the storm dies down. “And this is Lily. She’s a week old.”

  Lily starts fussing in my arms again and worry flares up inside of me. I have never looked after a child before and have no idea what to do.

  “She’s hungry,” he says, looking at my chest. “And uh, not to be clinical here - but I’m figuring your milk never came in?”

  “What?” My eyes widen as I take in this hulk of a man talking about my boobs.

  “You weren’t leaking, and it’s been a few hours since I carried you here.”

  I shake my head, confused. “I...”

  “She needs milk and you don’t have any,” he says blatantly.

  Finally, I understand what he’s getting at. “My backpack,” I say, looking around. “Where is it?”

  “You didn’t have anything with you when I found you,” he tells me.

  I close my eyes. Shit. “I dropped it before I slipped. It has several cases of formula.”

  James is already standing, grabbing a big coat from a hook. “You stay here. I’ll go after it. Lily needs a bottle, getting her fed is all that matters right now.”

  I nod, trembling as he grabs a rifle. “Thank you.”

  “Banjo will watch over you until I get back,” he says, nodding at the brown lab who lifts his head and looks at me from his bed by the fire. Then James heads out the cabin door without another word.

  Alone in a stranger’s cabin, I look around the simple room, wondering if running from the Wild Ride Motorcycle gang was the right decision. A question I’ve been pondering about for the last three days, ever since I escaped from my captors.

  Except they weren’t really my captors. I chose to live with them, following my sister in hopes of a better life.

  But it wasn’t better. I left one hell for another ... and now I have nothing. Lily wails in my arms and I rock the little one. She needs me to be strong, but tears streak my face as I think about all we’ve lost.

  Waiting for James to return, I pray to a god I’ve never believed in. I pray that today the storm will pass and the sun will break through. Because I’ve had one too many dark days. I’m ready for some light.

  Chapter Two

  James

  Lily takes a bottle like a champ, and I spend the next couple of days rocking her, feeding her, changing her, and cradling her in my arms, as her mother sleeps. Marcie is resting as if she’s been running for her life for a long ass time. Like this is the first time in her life that she’s ever felt safe eno
ugh to rest. She’s woken up a few times, barely eating, opening up a little bit before falling back into a heavy slumber.

  And when Marcie sleeps, she looks so angelic with her curly auburn hair tousled around her face, her soft creamy skin so pure. She has curves that would tempt any man, but I try to keep my focus on Lily - not the gorgeous redhead in my bed. But it’s nearly impossible.

  In the short conversations I’ve had when she’s been awake, what I have learned about her is she’s smart, with a quick sense of humor, and despite everything she’s gone through, there’s an innocence to her, a quiet strength.

  I’ve caught her watching me when she doesn’t think I’m aware. And I’ve seen the blush that creeps across her cheeks when her eyes fall to my chest. The way her pupils grow big and dark whenever I’ve brushed the back of my hand across her forehead, checking for a fever.

  God, the woman already has me in knots. I want to protect, keep her safe, but there’s also something primal inside of me that wants more...that wants to possess her, to make her mine.

  I shake my head at the thought, knowing the longer she stays here, the more trouble I’m in. But I can’t help but let my thoughts drift to the possibility of her and Lily staying with me for good.

  I’m sitting in the rocking chair in front of the fire when Marcie stirs, stretching, she groans.

  “God, I smell so gross,” she says, cringing. “I need a shower so freaking bad.” My lip turns to a smile and she catches me. “God, I do, don’t I? Am I totally grossing you out?”

  “Hardly,” I tell her, my cock twitching as she puts her feet down on my hardwood floor. Marcie is beautiful, petite and curvy and so damn cute she makes me want to scoop her up in my arms. Nothing about her is remotely undesirable. Truth is, it’s been a struggle to get any rest the last few nights because all I can think about is her creamy skin, my cock inside of her - taking care of her the way she so desperately needs.