MAKER (The Men of Whiskey Mountain Book 4) Read online

  Maker

  The Men of Whiskey Mountain

  Frankie Love

  Contents

  About

  1. Maker

  2. Marley

  3. Maker

  4. Marley

  5. Maker

  6. Marley

  7. Maker

  8. Marley

  9. Maker

  10. Marley

  11. Maker

  12. Marley

  13. Maker

  14. Marley

  15. Maker

  16. Marley

  17. Maker

  18. Marley

  19. Marley

  20. Maker

  21. Maker

  Epilogue 1

  Epilogue 2

  Want 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

  MAKER: The Men of Whiskey Mountain Book 4

  By Frankie Love

  I’m not the kind of man an innocent girl should fall for.

  But Marley Grove says she knows what she wants. And she wants me.

  She says she can handle a mountain man — after all, this freckle-faced slice of sunshine grew up in Alaska.

  But I’m more than a feral mountain man.

  I’m an ex-drug lord, reformed con man, an exonerated criminal.

  Her brothers are the River Boys and they want me off Whiskey Mountain.

  I want to turn over a new leaf, but not if it means giving up what I want.

  I love Marley more than life itself. But is that enough when the world is dead set against it?

  It’s high time we find out.

  Because I’m not going down without a fight. I’ll be here, on Whiskey Mountain, defending what — and who — is mine. With guns blazing.

  Maker

  I came to this wedding for one reason: I'm trying to be a better man.

  Now, before you go thinking I've turned into some softy, listen to me closely. I know if I want to be a good man, I have a hell of a lot of cleaning up to do. I'm ashamed of a lot of things I've done and I'm not proud of the way I've treated those closest to me. But I don't regret all of it. How could I? It's brought me here today to watch Beam and Bellamy get hitched. A woman I damn near destroyed and a man who was my partner in crime for far too long.

  Beam was by my side when nobody else was. And so standing here by his side today, it's the least I can do. But still, as I stand in this suit and tie, tight around the collar, I can't help but wonder if I will ever put my demons to rest. Being here at this beautiful wedding on this island Beam has somehow managed to procure for himself, I figure if there's hope for him, there might be hope for me.

  And hell, looking around, I see my brother Walker with his bride Wavy, and next to them are Jameson and Jemma. Hell, Jemma has been through the goddamn ringer, and most of it was because of me. She hates me, with reason.

  It's hard to stand here, to look at everybody in the eye, knowing what I've done to make their lives living hells. They forgave me, but I'm sure as fuck clear on one thing — I don't deserve their forgiveness.

  Since moving up here to Whiskey Mountain, the people I used to know in California have cleaned up their acts. They've gotten their lives together. Married, kids, cabins. It's an Alaskan mountain man's version of a white picket fence. It's paradise, but I'm not a fool. Not everyone can be so lucky as to get a second, a third, a fourth chance. Hell, I've stopped counting because I've had more than my share.

  “Why are you standing here empty-handed?” My brother Walker asks, coming over to me and handing me a glass of whiskey.

  I nod, jutting out my chin. “Thanks, bro.”

  He clinks his glass to mine and we raise them before taking drinks. The rich amber liquid slides down my throat and I calm down instantly.

  I've been a little agitated since getting here. It's all too perfect. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop because doesn't it always?

  “You having a good time?” Walker asks. I chuckle, running a hand over my beard.

  “God, I don't know. It's good to see Beam happy, and hell, Bellamy too.”

  Walker nods. It's a proper wedding, white dress, pastor leading them through their vows. “I don't think I ever thought I'd see a day like this. Did you?”

  I know what he means. Beam is a burly ass man. My bodyguard for years, but maybe he's a softy at heart.

  “I’m happy for him,” I say, “Bellamy too. They look so happy, don't they?”

  Standing side by side, we scan the guests. Someone is playing guitar. A woman is singing a song. A dance floor has been set up and Beam and Bellamy are gliding around it. Like we're in a goddamn romantic comedy.

  “How's Wavy doing these days?” I ask. “The babies keeping her busy?”

  Walker nods. “Yeah, she's already talking about getting pregnant again.”

  I laugh. “Damn. You sure are settled.”

  “What about you, bro? Do you ever think about settling down yourself?”

  I laugh. “What do you think? What kind of girl would want to be with a man like me?”

  I see Walker thinking, trying to come up with a woman who would be a good fit for a man like me. It's a tall order. I clap my brother's back.

  “Hey, I'm not offended. I know it's the truth. I'm not exactly the kind of man any girl wants to bring home to their papa.”

  Still, my brother shrugs. “You never know. Anyone here catch your eye?”

  I swallow, looking around the room. Happy people, most all of them coupled up, but there's one woman who keeps looking at me. One woman who should look away.

  “Who is she?” Walker asks, pointing to her.

  I shake my head. “I don't know. But that girl looks like she's never seen a bad day in her whole damn life.”

  “Which means?” my brother presses.

  “Which means she should stay clear of me.”

  “Well, she came with her brothers, but they are leaving tonight. They got in a big fight a little while ago. Apparently they wanted her to go home with them, but she wants to stay for the wedding breakfast tomorrow.”

  I frown. “Sounds intense.”

  “They got a tight rein on her, from what I hear.”

  Wavy walks over, dragging her husband to the dance floor. As more people join in dancing to the upbeat song, I chuckle, watching my brother, thinking I never imagined something like that. Hell, I never imagined being here with him at all. We've had our differences, that's for sure. But time heals most wounds and ours have cleaned up nicely. The wounds I'm facing now are within me. I've made right most of my wrongs with the people of this world. It's just my own demons that can't seem to let go.

  “Excuse me?” A sweet voice, a tap on my shoulder.

  I turn. It’s the woman I’ve been drawn to. The sweet one, the one who's much too good for me. You can tell it by her corn-yellow hair, her bright blue eyes, her freckled face. She's petite and curvy and cute as a button. The opposite of me in every possible way.

  “Hey,” she says again, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. It's long, to her waist and all soft curls done up for the day. “I’m Marley Grove,” she says. “I’ve been waiting all day for someone to introduce us, but the party's going to end soon and no one has. So I thought I would come and introduce myself.”

  “I'm Maker,” I say, offering her my hand, wishing I was the kind of man who coul
d give her more.

  Our hands touch a beat too long before I pull mine back and run it over my beard, telling myself to get a grip, to walk away.

  Before I can, she speaks again, persistent.

  “I was wondering if maybe you'd like to dance?” she asks.

  “Dance?” I repeat.

  She nods. Hope in her eyes. I can practically see it pounding in her heart. “I’m not very good at dancing,” she says.

  I set my glass on a table and take her hand. “Well, lucky for you, Marley Grove, I am.”

  Marley

  I have no idea what has come over me. Okay, I have an idea, a tiny little inkling. It may have to do with the epic fight I just had with my brothers, Jett, Gavin, and Dylan. They came here tonight as my “chaperones” but they wanted to leave, to get home before midnight, and considering it’s a three-hour boat ride back to Riverside, they wanted to leave now.

  Just as the reception was getting fun.

  I refused, and they got mad, and Beam told them to leave.

  So, it was a tad bit dramatic. Which is why I promptly had a shot of vodka. And the three glasses of champagne that followed.

  I bite my bottom lip, not remembering how many drinks I had, as Maker takes my hand and guides me toward the dance floor. Walking over to him and introducing myself is so out of character, it's crazy. Not that I'm not outgoing or good at meeting new people. I am. I'm a Riverside girl through and through, and working at the bar and grill has taught me to get to know everyone who comes in, which is how I got to know Beam and Bellamy in the first place, and why I'm at their wedding tonight.

  But my personality has nothing to do with why introducing myself to Maker is so out of the ordinary for me. What's out of character is taking a chance on that butterfly feeling deep inside my belly, the feeling I had the moment I locked eyes with him. I remember seeing him before, passing through the bar and grill, but he never stayed long enough to pay any attention to me. But God, I paid attention to him. And now that he's here holding my hand, I’m not going to waste this opportunity.

  "Where'd you learn to dance?" I ask as he wraps an arm around my waist, his big, firm palm on my back, his other hand holding mine. My entire body feels like it’s holding its breath.

  The music slows, and we move as if we know what we are doing. I surely don't. Heck, I was born and raised in Alaska. I didn't have much time to learn the waltz. I was mostly focused on fishing, and not getting my foot caught in a bear trap. But Maker knows how to move, which is why I have that flip-flop feeling happening now. Again. Constantly.

  God, this man is handsome, dark and dangerous. And yes, I've seen plenty of bearded hotties over the years, but none quite as sexy as this one.

  I've been warned. Beam, and Wavy, and their friend Jemma, were adamant. Do not go talk to Maker. He’s been in trouble with the law … and worse. He used to run a freaking drug cartel. Advice which, playing into this innocent naivety that I am so damn good at, I promptly ignored. I didn't want to be told what to do, who I could talk to.

  Heck, I've been told where to go, and when, my entire life by my big brothers. The River Boys are ball busters, if there ever were some. Meaning I've never been in a relationship because my brothers make certain I'm not. I don't quite know what they're hoping to achieve. Do they want me to stay single forever and just continue to live in a cabin with them, cooking and cleaning?

  And as I lose myself on the dance floor, I'm realizing that is exactly what my brothers want. They want to keep me locked up like Cinderella, doing their dirty work. They can remain bachelors in Riverside doing God knows what, with who knows who, while I do their laundry, drying out their wool socks and long underwear.

  “You okay, Marley?" Maker asks. "I was telling you where I learned to dance, but it seems like you've floated away."

  "Oh," I say, blinking quickly, probably too quickly. I probably look insane, but Maker gives me a smile, a wry smile that looks like trouble. And God, I like the look of it.

  “Sorry. I had a little bit too much to drink and my mind is wandering, and…”

  “You don't have to explain yourself," he says. "We don't even have to dance. I don't want you to get sick."

  "I'm not that drunk," I say, “and I'm totally rude. Where was it you said you learned to dance?"

  He chuckles. The guitar, the singer, the fairy lights, the setting. It’s all so perfect. It makes my heart ache. Is this what I've been waiting for? A handsome man to twirl me around a dance floor? I don't know. I haven’t spent too much time fantasizing about fairytales. And that might sound surprising since I've already mentioned Cinderella, but it's the truth. I'm happy, content at least. I like my job. I like the town I live in. I love Alaska.

  And it's not like there are many men who've caught my eye over the years anyways. And by many, I mean any. I grew up in a one-room schoolhouse, as quintessentially small-town America as there ever was. Except instead of sidewalks and street lamps, I had snowbanks and snowshoes.

  "You ran away again,” Maker says as the song ends. "You were lost somewhere. Want to tell me where you went?”

  Heat rises to my cheeks, and I feel mortified. I've had this one chance, this one romantic dance around the dance floor, where I was supposed to fall in love, and instead I got lost in that damn fantasy.

  I blink, this time more slowly, and I lower my eyes. "I think I should drink some water," I say, embarrassed.

  "I can handle that," he says. He guides me to the bar where he gets a bottle of water, and then asks where I'd like to sit.

  "How about down there?" I suggest. The reception is outside, under a tent, but I point just beyond it. There's a trail leading to the beach. And I know there are several benches there, a fire pit looking out on the water. Maker holds me steady, and we walk down the path. I kick off my sandals, and he takes off his dress shoes, rolling up the pant legs of his suit.

  The night is dark, the sky is filled with stars. If I wasn't so inebriated, I might be able to find the constellations that I've had memorized since I was a little girl. That's how it is up here. You grow up looking up at the night sky. Lonely sometimes, because there are not a lot of people and the stars become your friends, or at least they became mine. And now I'm realizing I was wrong — maybe I've been in a fairytale my whole damn life. Maybe I'm just waking up.

  "Hey," Maker says, "you sure you don't want me to just take you back to your room?”

  I blink, looking around, realizing I have been lost again in my head and thoughts. Surprisingly, I find myself nodding as Maker picks up our shoes, and instead of winding down to the sand, we wind back up toward a yurt. "Which one is yours?" he asks, pointing to the row of them. Beam and Bellamy had them put up here for the wedding, but they're such great structures I'm sure they'll be here for friends and family, more parties, just like this one, for years to come. Beam built Bellamy a big tree house just like the one in Swiss Family Robinson. Fairytales.

  I point to the yurt at the end of the lane. "Mine's the last one on the left," I say. He pushes open the door when we get there, turns on the light.

  There's a queen size mattress in the center, not much else. My suitcase, which only has a few changes of clothes — I was just coming up here for the wedding — and my toiletries. There's not even bathroom.

  "I feel weird leaving you. I know you said you just had some champagne, but you seem…"

  "What? Drunk?” I ask, looking at him, wanting him. I swallow hard. "I don't want you to go," I say. "Stay with me, for a while at least. Please?” When he doesn’t answer right away I add, “I mean, leave if you want. I’m not trying to be weird."

  "You're not being weird," he says, holding my gaze steady, but also not making a move. For such a deep and dark and dangerous man, I would have thought he would ravish me here and now, rip off my dress and take me to town, or to bed, whatever the case may be. Since he is showing restraint, maybe he's not everything that people say he is.

  I know what Bellamy thinks of him. I've heard rum
ors of what he's done to her, done to Jemma too. They say he's a bad man, a criminal, an ex-drug lord and more. I know he's everything I shouldn't want, but that butterfly feeling is still here.

  Is it me wanting what I can't have? Or is it finally knowing what I want, for the first time in my life?

  "I won't go," he says, "but I'm not going to ravish you."

  My eyes widen. "Did I say that out loud?"

  He nods, “Yeah, you did."

  "Right," I say, cringing, running a hand over my face. Is this the part where I'm supposed to be too mortified to speak?

  Maker steps toward me. “It’s not that I don’t want to ravish you, but I think you need to go to bed. I don't want you to have any regrets tomorrow."

  With my eyes closed, I lick my lips. We're standing inches apart and God, I like the way he smells. Rough, rugged, dirty, not in an unshowered way — in a filthy way. Like he could do filthy things. To me. Like he just might, if I asked him to when I wasn't so damn drunk.

  "I think the only regret I'm going to have is not trying to kiss you,” I say.

  Maker lifts my chin with the crook of his finger, and for a moment, I think that maybe he will. But instead he gives me a look of pity. "Oh, Marley, I won't kiss you. Haven't you heard? I’m a good guy now.”

  I swallow, eking out the slightest whimper. "Are you now?" I ask.

  He nods as if willing himself to be something he isn't. "I am."

  I smile then, because I've got him cornered. "Well good, Maker, because I'm a good girl. Looks like we might have more in common than you thought.”