Christmas With A Mountain Man (Rich & Rugged: A Hawkins Brothers Romance Book 5) Read online

  “Well, I have a thing for mountain men. The rough and rugged kind,” the other woman said. “He’s my dream guy.”

  Frankie had no idea who he was, but hoped he was quite the catch, given that he had the potential to come between friends.

  Finally, the cashier rang up her order and she toted everything to the car.

  Across the street from where Frankie had parked, a candy store tempted her. Mom & Lollipops. Everything about the town was cute, quaint, and she couldn’t resist the lure of chocolate wafting in the air.

  Bells on the door jingled, announcing her arrival. An older woman with white hair appeared from the back. She wore a red and green apron and a bright smile. “Welcome to Mom and Lollipops.”

  Frankie surveyed the cases filled with truffles, chocolate-covered caramels topped with sea salt along with a tray of white chocolate-cranberry almond bark. Raspberry dusted brownie bites, cashew clusters, and a display of fruit-shaped marzipan reminded her of when she was a little girl. All of it begged to be sampled. Her eyes must’ve been just as wide as they got when she was younger because when she straightened the woman was surveying her with a look of amusement.

  “I take it you’re not from around here?”

  Frankie spoke fluent Italian but didn’t have an accent since she was born in the US. Although all her friends said she had a certain foreign elegance about her that made her seem at home wherever she was. She liked to think it was because she felt at home with her self. One of her brothers called it the Costa confidence. However, overheating in her winter jacket and with her mouth-watering, she felt very out of place. “Just visiting.”

  “That’s what everyone says. Then they fall in love and never leave.”

  Frankie laughed lightly.

  “In fact, there’s one remaining bachelor in town that has all the single ladies clamoring, hoping they’ll be the one who’ll tame him. It’s something about those mountain men.” She clicked her tongue.

  That got a real laugh out of Frankie, recalling the women in the market. “Is that what brought you here?”

  “No, that’s what kept me here.”

  “I take it your mountain man is the Pop part of this place.” Frankie twirled her finger, indicating the candy shop.

  The woman folded her hands. “He was. He passed a few years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Frankie said softly.

  “Thank you. We had many good years and, in many ways, he’s still with me. Always will be.”

  Frankie thought of her parents. Sure, they had their moments over the years, but she was sure they were still in love—whether they were in Manhattan or Italy, they took a walk every evening together, hand in hand.

  She’d never been in love—she’d had her share of crushes, but her brothers had done a decent job scaring off every guy who so much as looked in her direction. Not to mention she didn’t have time for that kind of thing.

  “That’s sweet,” she said at last.

  “I’ll tell you what else is sweet—” The woman smiled and gestured at the case with her hand. “What would you like to try? My treat.”

  “Oh, I intend to try one of each,” Frankie said in a low tone.

  “Uh oh, do I sense you came here to escape a breakup?”

  “Something like that.” Frankie hadn’t talked much about losing the restaurant—everyone seemed to know and she definitely hadn’t talked to anyone about how the whole thing made her feel—distraught, lost, depressed.

  The shop owner started filling a white box stamped with the Mom & Lollipops logo.

  A sigh escaped along with an abbreviated version of the story. “I’m a chef and owned a restaurant. I lost the lease and, well, I feel like I lost everything. My identity, my passion, and what my brothers used to call the Frankie fight. I’m the youngest of seven, all boys except me. They didn’t always give me a hard time, but I did learn to stick up for myself. I just feel like it was drained out of me after I had to close up.”

  The woman looked thoughtfully at her for a moment.

  Frankie took a deep breath, the first one in weeks—the scent of chocolate in the air probably helped.

  “In that case, you definitely came to the right place.” The older woman passed her the box sealed with a Mom & Lollipops sticker.

  Frankie nodded. “One of my best friends says, ‘What duct tape doesn’t fix, chocolate will.’”

  That time, the woman laughed. “Practical and true. The locals call me Mom, but my name is Carol.”

  After introducing herself, paying, and saying thanks, Frankie was about to leave but turned back. She held up the postcard. “Do you know where this is?” She showed her the address.

  Frankie couldn’t quite discern Carol’s expression, but when their eyes met, the older woman’s sparkled.

  Carol gave her directions and then, wearing a smirk, she said, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from the Hawkins boy up there, but seeing as you just bought a big box of chocolates, I’m not sure you stand a chance.” She winked. “Good luck.”

  Frankie left, feeling a bit lighter, stronger, and gladly accepting the good luck wish especially as the rental car struggled up the winding mountain road toward the cabin.

  The boughs of the trees hung low over the road, narrow enough for only one car at a time even though it had been plowed and maintained.

  At last, she reached a fork in the road and idled a moment. Carol hadn’t mentioned whether she should go right or left.

  Frankie closed her eyes, recalling the trip when she was little. It was no use, she couldn’t remember. She blinked her eyes open. Fresh tire tracks lined the driveway on the left so she put the vehicle in gear and slowly made her way up the hill, hoping that was the right way.

  At the top, a small cabin sat nestled in the snow. That was it. She recalled the cabin from her childhood. It was just the kind of peace and quiet she sought.

  She imagined her father had arranged for the road to be cleared, anticipating her visiting. Her parents were always there for her, even when they couldn’t be physically present. Then why hadn’t she told them about the restaurant? Because facing them made it real. Too real.

  A pair of tears slipped from Frankie’s eyes, the first she’d cried since she’d gotten the terrible news. Her vision blurred as she got out of the car, gathered up her things, including the box of chocolates, and started making her way up the path toward the log cabin.

  A porch wrapped around the front, but the snow hadn’t been removed. Instead, the driveway continued to a side entrance that she hadn’t noticed at first. She started toward it and would move the car later.

  Still several yards from the door she heard a growl-grunt. Startled, she looked up.

  A large brown bear stood on the front porch. Her emotions shifted from sadness to terror. A scream escaped. Frankie dropped everything and raced back to the car. Had the bear wanted to follow, it had to walk along the side of the porch, down a ramp, and around to the lower part of the driveway where she’d parked. Her moment of tearful distraction gave her a head start. Thank goodness.

  After locking herself in the vehicle, she realized that her cell phone was in her bag along with the car keys. Outside. In the snow.

  Panic seized her. Carol was the only person who knew where she was. Frankie started to say a prayer when a thundering sound came from the woods on the right side of the property.

  A bearded man wearing a green jacket appeared, mounted atop a four-wheeler. When leaving Mom & Lollipops, she hadn’t paid attention to what Carol had said about the Hawkins boy, but if that was who she’d meant, there was nothing boyish about him. He was all man.

  Bumps pebbled across her skin and she shivered.

  Chapter 2

  Rocky

  Rocky had been outside chopping wood when a shriek echoed from the neighboring property. Dave Wilson had been by the last few weeks clearing the snow and the path up to the cabin. It had sat empty since the youngest Hawkins brother had retreat
ed to the mountains and the cabin that his great-grandfather had built when he’d settled Hawk Ridge Hollow. Later, his father created the empire as it was known today. The very thought turned him sour. No way was he going to take handouts from his family. Not after everything that happened. But he needed to go somewhere and like the house next door, the cabin he lived in had been all but abandoned and forgotten, like him.

  As Rocky gunned the four-wheeler, crushing the snow along the trail that he’d often take the dogs on, he shook his head. Likely, a bunch of city people were visiting and didn’t know how to handle themselves in the country.

  Sure enough, a shiny car sat in the driveway. Locals had salt on their vehicles and if they were smart, they’d leave it there through the winter months because it would only get dirty again after the next snowfall anyway.

  A grizzly bear paused halfway on the ramp that led up the side of the house. It seemed as though it was deliberating if it was going to investigate the source of the scream or run away at the sound of the four-wheeler cranking. Rocky had bear spray on his belt and was ready to use it if necessary. He’d taken precautions against bears on his property, especially for the dogs, but he’d become so attuned with life on the mountain, he rarely encountered bears.

  City folks would leave out the trash and do all kinds of things to attract the animals without realizing it. He scowled. Didn’t need any visitors disrupting the peace.

  Apparently having made its decision, the big brown bear lumbered toward the woods behind the cabin.

  Rocky pulled up next to the car. A woman was inside, visibly shaking.

  He tapped on the window. She shook her head, terror in her eyes. Probably better for her to go back to wherever she came from.

  He cut the four-wheeler and got off, gathering up the items strewn on the path. A couple of bags and a box of chocolates from Mom & Lollipops. Definitely from out of town.

  When he returned to the car, the woman had gotten out. She had shiny black hair and light eyes. “Thank you for—” She gestured toward the cabin and then back at him, swallowing thickly. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

  His eyebrows lifted and he passed her the bags and box.

  “How rude of me. I’m Francesca Costa. My friends call me Frankie. Do you want a chocolate?” she asked, holding out the box.

  He couldn’t tell where she was from, but she had a worldliness about her—not at all like the self-important, entitled city slickers that visited Hawk Ridge Hollow and the resort and acted like they owned the place.

  The box remained in the space between them and her eyes fixed on him as she blinked slowly. “Some of them might have gotten mushed.”

  He grunted. “I’m Rocky—John Hawkins.” He stopped himself abruptly. He’d left Rocky behind when he’d escaped to the mountains. If he still had friends, which he didn’t since he’d stopped returning their calls, they’d just call him Rocky. He’d left his brothers and the team for the mountain cabin and didn’t look back.

  She cocked her head. “Hawkins?” Then as though realizing something her lip curled. “In equal measure, I’ve gathered that you’re a bunch of in-demand local and international celebrities and I’ve been warned to stay away from you.”

  “You’d be right about that last part.”

  Her mouth opened slightly as though she was surprised that he didn’t defend his family’s honor.

  “Well, we should exchange numbers in case of an emergency.”

  “What, like a bear stopping by?”

  Her face fell as though she weren’t ready to joke about the close encounter with the grizzly. The thought intruded into his mind that he’d like to see her smile or laugh or...before he let that thought go anywhere else, he turned his gaze to the woods.

  “What’s your mobile number? I promise I won’t sell it to a telemarketer,” she said.

  Her voice drew his attention back. “I don’t have a cell phone.”

  “But you have bear spray?” She pointed at the can on his belt loop.

  Anytime he went outside, he had it on him. There wasn’t anyone nearby that would hear him or come charging through the woods to his aid. Days, sometimes weeks during the winter, passed without him seeing other people.

  “Do you have a landline? That’s what they’re called, right? I hardly remember the primitive technology of yesteryear.” The hint of laughter entered her voice.

  “Yesteryear?” he asked.

  “Surely you know the word considering you live in the dark ages.” Her cheeks, pink from the cold, lifted slightly.

  His lips quirked. She was messing with him. He forced a straight face. “Yes, I have a house phone.”

  He turned back to the four-wheeler. He’d had women in town asking for his number for months. After his brothers slowly paired up and married off, and then Blake with the live spectacle asking the pop star to marry him, word had gotten out that he was still single. The last man standing. The man on the mountain. And he wanted to keep it that way.

  Anytime he went to town he was bombarded with women flirting, asking for his number, and one even snuck her purse in his shopping cart and followed him out of the store like they were already together. Five years ago, he wouldn’t have minded. Not one bit. But things had changed. He couldn’t trust himself. The last thing he wanted was to date, to engage in fake small talk, and to risk losing control.

  The woman stood in the driveway, all traces of fear gone. Instead, stubborn determination filled her eyes. She didn’t really seem like the kind of person who’d scream and run from a bear. No, she seemed like the mama bear type who’d protect her own with ferocity. “Can I have your number?” she repeated.

  Her wavy, shiny black hair was half up and half down, spilling over her shoulders. Loose bits framed her face. Her skin was smooth, dewy, somehow still tan from summer. The eyes that gazed at him were sultry. Eyes that saw everything and betrayed little.

  A little hum buzzed beneath his skin. He tried to take a deep breath.

  She’d produced a piece of paper and pen from her bag and scribbled down her number. “Francesca. Frankie Costa.”

  With the reminder of her last name, his objections slammed into his mind like a hockey puck into a net. “Costas and Hawkins don’t trade numbers.”

  “Not even with a pretty one like me?” She batted her eyelashes as though aware he’d been checking her out. However, the subtle twist of her lips suggested she didn’t take any nonsense from anyone.

  “Who said you’re pretty?” He’d forced the harsh words out. He hadn’t said she was pretty. He’d thought she was beautiful with every red-blooded cell in his body. But she could never, ever know that. He couldn’t risk it. Not with anyone, especially not her. He’d made his life as simple as possible: the woods, the dogs, and work. No women and no margin for drama or anything else.

  “Ouch,” she said, but didn’t flinch as though she knew his comment was a lie. She opened the box of chocolates and plucked one out before taking a bite. Her eyes shuttered and her lips formed a bow.

  He may as well have been the one eating the chocolate too because the way she looked brought a smile of his own to his lips. One he could do nothing to resist. The sight of her lips lifted like that rendered him helpless. At that moment, had she asked him to stand guard outside her cabin day and night, warding off bears, he’d have said yes.

  “You have no idea what you’re missing,” she said, popping the other half of the chocolate candy in her mouth.

  She was right. He had no idea, but the moment her eyes fluttered open, he told himself no.

  No, to Francesca Costa.

  No, to the stirring in his chest.

  No, to all of it.

  “What’s your problem with Costas anyway?” She brushed off her fingers.

  He grunted.

  Her eyes bore into him as though she were the bear and they were having the standoff.

  “Your grandfather was Francesco.”

  She nodded and leaned in, indicating sh
e was waiting to hear more.

  “Let’s just say that Charles, my grandfather, and yours didn’t see eye to eye.”

  She slapped the top of the box of chocolates shut as though his declaration flipped a switch in her. “Okay. Fine, the Costas and Hawkins don’t trade numbers, but for your information, it is the modern-day. I’m not my grandfather so whatever happened between Charles and Francesco, I certainly don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, you’re my grouchy neighbor. Or should I call you a Grinch? Christmas isn’t long off and your jacket is green.” She turned to march up the path that led to the ramp on the side of the cabin.

  “Well, I’m not my grandfather and I’m not grouchy either,” he hollered after her before he could stop himself.

  “Clearly, I disagree.”

  “By the way, next time you see a bear, don’t scream and run. The only thing that kept you from being lunch for that guy was the ramp, the snow, and the path.” Rocky gestured to the fact that the bear had to cross the rest of the porch, go down the ramp, around the side of the house to the path and then down the driveway. She was lucky she didn’t park closer to the ramp. It may have been the only thing that saved her life.

  “And for a moment I thought it was you that saved me.”

  He grunted. He didn’t want any glory. No, he wanted to be left alone. Life was easier that way.

  “Be sure to tell Dave Wilson, the guy who shoveled, not to leave doughnut crumbs in his path. They attract bears.”

  She squished up her nose like she didn’t fully understand.

  Dave had a reputation for going through a half dozen doughnuts a day. Said they helped keep up his energy when clearing snow.

  “I can take care of it myself, thank you very much.”

  Another grunt escaped Rocky’s lips. He’d gotten so used to it being just the dogs and him that he wondered if he’d forgotten how to talk. What was it about her that made him suddenly care? He marched over to the four-wheeler, eager to gun it through the woods and back to the peace of his property.

  She lifted her chin defiantly. In that gesture, he caught the glimpse of a little girl and had the vague memory of the Costas visiting one winter long ago when his grandfather was still alive. There were so many of them outside—all boys—playing in the snow. His grandfather made him and his brothers stay away from the city kids, but they spied on the neighbors all the same. Among them was one little girl who’d declared herself queen of the mountain. She’d shouted it from atop a snowbank.