Soul of the Mountain (The Mountain Men of Fox Hollow Book 3) Read online

  Soul of the Mountain

  The Mountain Men of Fox Hollow

  Frankie Love

  Contents

  About

  1. Jasper

  2. Juliette

  3. Jasper

  4. Juliette

  5. Jasper

  6. Juliette

  7. Jasper

  8. Juliette

  9. Jasper

  Epilogue

  More!

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2020 by Frankie Love

  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.

  About

  A blue-eyed beauty, lost and alone — two young children in her arms.

  I’m a mountain man who’s always lived alone.

  When I see a tragic accident on the highway, I have a chance to change things.

  But will everyone agree that my cabin should be their home?

  It’s time to man up and be what they need.

  Dear Readers,

  Jasper is a mechanic with an old soul. Juliette is a nanny with a vintage heart.

  He’s gonna give her a tune-up she doesn’t see coming and she’ll return the favor with an oil change that’ll blow his mind.

  These two are made for each other and this dirty little love story is meant to be.

  xo, frankie

  THE MOUNTAIN MEN OF FOX HOLLOW:

  Heart of the Mountain

  Protector of the Mountain

  Soul of the Mountain

  Man of the Mountain

  Jasper

  After talking about it for years, I’ve finally done it. I run a hand over my beard, feeling proud as fuck.

  "Congratulations, Jasper. The building is yours," Donovan says, shaking my hand. “Two auto shops in as many years — it’s impressive. I hope to do business with you again in the future."

  I nod, thinking how I don't plan on coming back to the city anytime soon. And considering I live in Fox Hollow, a town in the middle of the mountains, I don't think there'll be much more expansion in my future. I now own the only two mechanic shops in town. Still, I don't argue. Working with the bank for the business loan went seamlessly and right now, I’m thrilled to own this shop. Now I can brand them both with the same logo.

  I walk out of the bank with my head held high even though a rainstorm is brewing and it's going to be a shitty drive home. When I get in my truck, I pull out my phone, wanting to call my dad.

  "Oh, son,” he says into the phone. "I'm glad you called. I was just wondering if maybe you could stop by this weekend to help with my furnace. Something's wrong with it. And I can't manage to fix it on my own."

  "What's the problem? Do you have heat now?"

  He grunts. “It's coming on and off, but I'm okay. Don't worry about me."

  "Well, I can come now. I’m in Merryton, about an hour away."

  “I’ll be fine for the night. I have an electric heater. It’s already late. But enough about me, did you meet with the banker?” he asks.

  “Yeah," I tell him. “Just signed the papers."

  "Oh, Jasper, I'm so proud of you," he says. "You’re taking it to the proving grounds, aren’t you?”

  "I guess so,” I say.

  I can picture him in his cabin right now, probably drinking a beer and listening to the news like he does every night. He's all the family I have in the world and I do my best to take care of him.

  "I really don't mind stopping by on my way home," I tell him. "I want to be sure that you're not too cold.”

  “Jas, don't worry about me. I have the heater right here at my feet and I have a heated blanket — I'm fine. It's not even winter."

  "Yeah, but it's a colder fall than we've had in a long ass time," I tell him.

  "I heard the storm is going to get worse by tonight. Which is why you need to get home. I don't want you out on the roads if you don't have to be."

  I chuckle. “Dad, I'm a grown ass man. You're talking to me like I'm a child."

  "Sorry, you’re right,” he says. "I really am proud of you and your mother would be really proud of you too." I hear his voice crack.

  “Dad, don’t get upset,” I tell him.

  "I just hate that she’s not here to see this, to see what kind of man you've become."

  "All right. Well, I'll come by tomorrow," I tell him. I hang up, turn on the engine, head out of town. It's about an hour’s drive home, but the storm really is picking up like he'd mentioned. Still, the thought of owning another shop makes it impossible to be in a bad mood. That thought puts a smile on my face for a while as I drive down the highway toward home. It's getting dark and the rain's coming down something bad. I consider giving my buddy, Kutter, a call and seeing if he wants to meet up for a beer, maybe even with James, but then I think better of it. My dad was right. This weather really is a shitstorm brewing. On my dashboard, I see the temperature has dropped a good twenty degrees. I shake my head, thinking ice on these roads is gonna mean accidents.

  I take the exit toward the Fox Hollow Mountains, ready to get home, considering that brand-new bottle of whiskey I have in the cupboard above my refrigerator. Maybe tonight's the night I pop it open, celebrate.

  Before I can turn onto the private road that leads to my cabin, I see a woman waving me down. The rain turns to hail now, and my heart pounds — trying to figure out why this woman would be out here in this storm. I ease to a stop, coming up to the woman, who's soaking wet with something in her arms, and she's holding the hand of a child; a toddler.

  With my headlights on, I see them more clearly. They're shaking, freezing, eyes bright with tears. I jump out of my truck, hollering for them, not seeing a car anywhere. "What's happened? What are you doing here?" I shout as thunder cracks through the sky. Rain coming down harder.

  "Where'd you come from?" I scream. I see now that the young woman is clutching a baby; the little kid who holds her hand is crying something fierce.

  And there is something about her that ignites and primal need within me — I must protect her, save her. She is mine, in a way no one else has ever been before or will ever be again. She is stranded and needs help. And I would do anything to rescue her right now.

  Maybe it is the fierce look of determination in her eyes that has me running toward her. Maybe it is the desperate cry on her lips as she holds the two children against her body. Maybe it is the way her body is illuminated in my headlights, drawing me closer with a desperate need to care for her.

  “From down there," she says. "The car, it's down there." Her voice cracks. Her eyes filled with tears.

  I look down the ravine behind her. A car engulfed in flames. She's shaking, terrified.

  "Help," she pleads, reaching out to me. I pull her close, instinctively knowing she needs me the way I need her. "Please. We just lost everything."

  Juliette

  It was supposed to be a fun, relaxing weekend in the woods. The Fox Hollow Mountains were just two hours from the city and Grant thought it was the perfect time to teach his three-year-old son how to fish for trout in a lake.

  Charlie will have no interest in fishing. He’ll be more interested in the worms, but I didn't correct Grant when he made this proposal. The fact that he wants to spend time with his family at all is surprising. I've been the nanny for the Martindales for the last three years. And in that time, I’ve watched Grant and Laura take trips to Maui and Paris and Australia, z ipping across the world in their private jet. Leaving Charlie at home with me. Not that I minded. I love Charlie. Like he’s my own, which is crazy considering I'm nothing more than a nanny, but he feels like family. When they had another baby a few months ago, my heart somehow doubled in size. Suddenly it wasn’t just Charlie who I look after, it was little Aaron, too.

  And oh my heart, is he precious.

  I’ve spent more time with him than his own parents have. So when Grant insisted on this weekend away to the Fox Hollow Mountains, to teach Charlie to fish, I nodded and listened as he told his assistant to order a fishing pole for his toddler. And a fishing pole for himself too, because it turns out Grant doesn't actually know anything about fishing. But who am I to judge? I'm the hired help.

  And honestly, if these two think a weekend in the mountains without their entourage is going to help their failing marriage, I am all for it. Charlie and Aaron should grow up in a happy household. Still, I admit to being a bit apprehensive considering I’ve never seen either of the Martindales roughing it.

  After Laura gave birth to Aaron three months ago, I became what they called a godsend. I know they value me and my time. They've said on numerous occasions that they couldn't do this without me. And to be honest, they're right. I know Charlie and Aaron's lives like they were mine. I know Aaron and Charlie better than anyone else in the world. Yes, I'm their babysitter, but they're my heart and soul.

  At this point, they feel like my own children, which I know is probably inappropriate to say. I'm their nanny. But I'm also the person who tucks them in at night, who makes their meals, who potty-trained Charlie and who changes Aaron's diapers. I'm the person who taught Charlie how to walk and talk and say thank you. Please, even, on a good day. I'm not trying to take credit where credit isn't due, but I love these two boys.

  And so a trip to the mountains with their parents seems like something that will benefit them more than anything else I could come up with. Quality family time, no distractions. Apparently the wifi is horrible up here. Though I'm not sure Laura is aware of that.

  Laura decided we were going to the Fox Hollow Mountains after hearing about outdoor family trips from all the parents at the mommy-and-me group she takes Charlie to once every few weeks. Taking him there is her one big display of parenting. The other parents, allegedly, touted their family hikes and s’mores. And since Laura is uber-competitive, she decided her family trip would be the most authentic. She promptly asked her personal assistant to book the vacation.

  And now, a few weeks later, we're on the road, headed to what should be an interesting getaway. Not that we'll be exactly roughing it, considering Laura has a caterer and a cook coming.

  The drive to the mountains doesn’t seem to be having the desired effect on Laura and Grant, though. I’ve spent the last few hours in the back seat of the luxury SUV singing The Wheels on the Bus and The Itsy-Bitsy Spider while the couple sits up front arguing. The weather only makes the night feel more weighted.

  The rain comes down hard, the temperatures drop, and black ice forms.

  Laura is fighting with Grant about some lawsuit. He’s irritated that she even brought it up. Charlie is asking me if we’re almost there in his soft, sing-song voice.

  "Soon, sweetheart," I tell him, sweeping his blond hair from his blue eyes.

  The whole weekend seems contrived in my mind — it’s so not how Laura ever spends her time. I feel confident in my ability to navigate the woods, though. I grew up not far from here, chopping wood, hunting with my dad on the weekends. One town over from Fox Hollow is Doe River, where I grew up. Laura and Grant don't know that, of course — why would they? They don't know much about me at all. They just know that without me, they couldn't manage their own children, which both breaks my heart and fills me with pride.

  I lean over the car seat and kiss Aaron's head. He's facing me and he smiles, cooing, awake from a nap. I know he's hungry and he probably needs a diaper change. "We're almost there, little one," I tell him.

  "God dammit," Grant groans. "The road is so slick."

  "Be careful," Laura chides as a deer jumps out in front of us.

  And just like that, the world careens, goes upside down, over on itself and everything changes.

  I hear the sound of the car going over the guardrail, the metal crunch, the crash. I hear the screams Charlie makes as the car rolls, as I press my hands and body around these boys who are like my own. I hear Laura shouting, Grant screaming, gripping the wheel, holding on for dear life, but it’s too late. We are rolling down a ravine.

  His SUV can't save us, their millions of dollars can't save us. No amount of resources could save us because in the end, the elements always win, and right now, we’ve lost. I close my eyes tight, praying that somehow Aaron and Charlie will be okay, that somehow Aaron and Charlie will make it out alive, that somehow Aaron and Charlie will survive.

  When the car stops rolling, I am breathing. I press my hands to the boys. Their chests rise and fall. The three of us in the back are all alive. I unbuckle Aaron, drawing him to my chest as he cries loudly, Charlie is shrieking, and my heart pounds with worry. I can’t bear the thought of something happening to them. I look them both over, head to toe, and miraculously they both appear unscathed. Tears fall down my cheeks as I kiss their heads, thanking God that they are unharmed.

  But we are not the only people in the vehicle, and with a sinking heart I realize the two people up front aren't as lucky. The car nosedived against a rock slab. Blood pours from their faces. It’s horrific and heartbreaking but there is no time to mourn. Not now.

  Panicked, scared the car might blow up, I grab the boys as quickly as I can, kicking open the door, getting them out, grabbing a bag — the only one I can find — and throwing it over my shoulder before running.

  I hear a rumble, a roar so loud all I can do is grab the boys and run up and away from the car. I'm glad I do because then, only a moment later, there is nothing but red flames, fire, the entire SUV engulfed, gone.

  Tears run down my cheeks as my adrenaline races, my heart pounding, my soul aching, my hand clutching Charlie, cradling Aaron. "Oh God," I moan. "Oh, God."

  I have nothing on me except for a diaper bag. "Come on," I say. "We got to get up the hill, we have to go, we need help."

  There had been no one on the road for miles. There are no stores, no gas stations, no fast food. We are in the woods, we are alone. Laura and Grant are gone and I am stranded with two little boys. The rain falls hard and Aaron screams in my arms, howling for help. Charlie cries, "Mama, mama!” Looking up at me. "Help me, Et, help Et, help Et," he sobs.

  "It's okay," I say, kneeling down, pulling him close. "It's okay, I got you. I got you, Goose. You need to be brave and strong. We're going to go up this hill, can you do that? Can you climb up this hill with me?"

  He nods. "I can," he says.

  "Okay,” I tell him. “We're going to go up this hill."

  And so we do. We climb the hill, the side of a ravine. Dirt on my hands, a baby crying in my arms, a three-year-old trying so hard to be brave and strong. He is crying too, he knows something bad just happened. I don't have a phone, we can’t call for help.

  Finally, we get to the top of the ravine, climb over the destroyed guardrail, my heart breaking, knowing how, only minutes ago, we'd been thrown from this road with the rain falling heavy. Hail the size of golf balls begins to shower down. Charlie is screaming for help and I wrap him in my arms as best I can, shielding both the boys' heads. "It's okay," I say. "It's going to be okay.”

  But is it? Are we going to be okay? I don't know.

  Then, through the dark night, headlights blink. Come closer. I lift an arm, scream for help, and a car stops.

  It’s a truck. A big truck. A man gets out of the cab. I’ve never seen him before, but in that instant, it feels like my soul knows exactly who he is. Mine.

  He is more than the person coming to rescue us, he is our guardian angel.

  Jasper

&nbsp ; The woman and her children are drenched, head to toe, and my heart aches for them. I’m not a family man, but I have a soul — and I know these three have been through hell.

  “Get in the truck,” I say, my hand on the woman’s back. “I’m calling 911 right now.”

  I help them onto the big bench seat of my truck, and I climb in with them, not wanting to stand in the rain— not wanting to be apart from them for one minute. It’s my job to protect them. Turning on the engine, I turn the heat on full-blast.

  But when I dial emergency services, there is no response. “No service,” I say, shaking my head. “Shit.” I look over at the woman. She is trembling like a leaf, a fragile-looking thing, like she could blow over in the wind — which is why this storm must be shaking her so damn bad. “Was there anyone else in the vehicle?”

  “Their parents,” she whispers.

  “Parents?” I frown, dialing 911 again.

  “I’m the nanny. We were in the back seat… but they’re gone,” she whispers. Rain falls on the windshield and she shakes something fierce.

  “Okay, my cabin is just a quarter of a mile up the road. We can go there and I can try my emergency radio, has better reception than cell phones in weather like this. That sound okay?”

  She nods. “I don’t think we have a choice.”

  I drive as slowly as I can, turning onto my gravel driveway and parking the truck as close as I can to my cabin.

  “You live here all alone?” she asks.

  “Yeah, built this place with my own two hands, too.” I lift the little boy from the truck, setting him on the ground, then take her hand, helping her out. The baby cries in her arms.