Man of the Mountain (The Mountain Men of Fox Hollow Book 4)

  Man of The Mountain

  The Mountain Men of Fox Hollow

  Frankie Love

  Contents

  Man of the Mountain

  1. Kutter

  2. Katie

  3. Kutter

  4. Katie

  5. Kutter

  6. Katie

  7. Kutter

  8. Katie

  9. Kutter

  10. Katie

  Epilogue

  More from Fox Hollow

  Want a Freebie?

  About the Author

  Man of the Mountain

  As a forest ranger in Fox Hollow Forest, I spend my days in the woods alone.

  Until now.

  A baby has been abandoned at the station and it’s my duty to get her somewhere safe.

  When Katie, the cute and curvy social worker comes to take the baby, a storm sweeps in.

  Now she’s stuck here at my cabin until the weather turns.

  But by then it will be too late.

  Katie is mine now. Heart and soul.

  I just have to convince her that a baby doesn’t just change me.

  This baby is changing everything.

  Dear Reader,

  Ready to head to Fox Hollow?

  Kutter is ready to claim what he craves.

  But will Katie be able to handle all he has to offer?

  Because he’s more than a mountain daddy… he’s a mountain MAN!

  xo, frankie

  Copyright © 2021 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.

  Created with Vellum

  Kutter

  As I walk through Fox Hollow Forest, winding up my day, I see tracks in the damp floor of the woods.

  Cougar tracks.

  Shit.

  It would be one thing if there were some coyote winding around this part of the forest. I can deal with those wild ass dogs — but cougars are bad for business. Not that this is a money-making endeavor — keeping the woods safe. But families come out here to camp and fish this time of year and the last thing anyone wants is an animal attack when they’re on vacation.

  Sure, everyone understands it’s a remote area, but cougars prowling around will only cause trouble.

  Thankfully the sky has been heavy with rain clouds all week. It’ll keep driving people away until I can deal with the cats. Usually this is a beautiful time of year in Fox Hollow Forest. Living off the beaten tracks has its perks — I can enjoy the great outdoors without running into many people.

  Why else would I have taken a job in the middle of nowhere? I was born in these woods, and I never plan to leave. Now, I wouldn’t mind sharing this slice of rural paradise with a woman, but most of the ones I meet — down at the one and only bar in a fifty-mile radius — aren’t really looking to make a life in the wild. They’re looking for a good time that just might lead to a way out.

  But damn, I wish that weren’t the case. Sometimes what I really crave is a woman to share a bed with. Nothing more because hell, I’m a lone ranger — literally. And there is no woman on earth that could make me change.

  As I walk through the woods toward my ranger station, a text comes through. It’s from James, my closest neighbor.

  James: Come over for a BBQ on Saturday. Marcie is insisting. Reed and Jasper are coming with their wives.

  I shove my phone in my pocket, not wanting to be reminded of what I don’t have. Reminded of what those guys got. Even if it’s not what I want, knowing they have women in their beds each night to satisfy their cravings gets me a little bitter.

  Okay, a whole lot bitter.

  I feel droplets of rain on my shoulder as I near the station, then a howl.

  Looking around, I consider the cougar tracks I saw earlier. Maybe they’re getting braver and starting to come closer than they usually do. I set my hand on the revolver on my hip, clenching my jaw.

  But before I can investigate, the sound that I thought was a howl turns to a cry.

  Running to the station, my heart pounds. That was no wild animal… that sound was a baby.

  I round the corner, seeing a pair of cougars inching toward the door with a hungry look in their eyes. Snapping their mouths, fangs glistening.

  Moving toward the doorstep where a baby lays strapped into a baby carrier.

  Katie

  I press my fingers to my temples, so frustrated with my boss. I’ve been looking for a reason to quit my job for months, but this is the last straw. Lorraine is asking me to go to Fox Hollow for a transport— which I don’t mind doing in and of itself. It’s my duty to make sure all children are safe and well cared for. That matters to me — it’s why I became a social worker in the first place.

  What bothers me is that Lorraine didn’t even ask me if I minded doing this after-hours pick-up, when I’ve just clocked in a sixty-hour work week. I want to help — be available — but I also don’t want to be a doormat.

  “I can’t do it,” Lorraine says, reaching for her purse and jacket. “I’ve got to get Sonia to ballet practice and Jonah has an appointment with his tutor.”

  I pick up the tablet on my desk and slide it into my tote bag. “Fine,” I say, not wanting Lorraine’s kids to suffer. “But next week I’m taking a few days off. I’m exhausted.”

  Social workers are known to be over worked and underpaid. I get that. It’s what I signed up for. What I care about is not being treated like an actual human. Like my time is less valuable since I don’t have a husband and kids to care for.

  I’m tired of it — I want to be seen as an actual person with feelings.

  Though I suppose it would be easier to be seen that way if I ever let anyone in to see those emotions.

  Lorraine scoffs. “You can’t just take time off. You have to request leave.” She looks at her watch. “I gotta go. Make sure you grab a diaper bag in the closet and a car seat. The man who called this in thinks she’s only a few months old. Make some calls on the drive out to find a placement, okay?” With that, she turns on her heels and leaves the office.

  I blink back the tears that threaten to fall, hating that I don’t stick up for myself better. I’d love to sit around and throw a pity party, but I hate driving at night. And more importantly, there is a little baby who has been abandoned.

  Thinking about this baby who needs me manages to snap me out of my misery. Focus, Katie. I grab the gear I need, then head out to my car. Buckling the car seat into the back of my sedan, I feel drops of rain on my back. Looking up at the darkening sky, I make the decision to pass on driving through a burger joint until after the pick-up and drop-off. I hate driving in the rain too.

  I enter the address into my GPS and then begin making phone calls via Bluetooth. Usually a baby is an easy enough placement, but tonight I can’t seem to get through to any of my regular foster parents. There is one more emergency home I can call, but before I can reach them, my reception fails me.

  I turn up the music on the radio and try to sing away my frustration over the past week. Sometimes I just wish I could run away, to the middle of nowhere, and clear my head. When I get back to the office, I will go through the appropriate steps and request that vacation time. Maybe I can find a cheap rental out here in the woods of Fox Hollow, spend a few days in the wilderness and remember who I am. Who I want to be.

  As I drive into the forest, the thick cedar trees on either side of me, t
he rain starting to fall and the sun now set, I realize I don’t need a few days to figure any of that out. I already know. I want a husband, a child. I want the family I never had growing up. But I’m never going to find that life I long for if I’m working such crazy hours. I need more balance.

  My GPS tells me I’m almost there. I turn on my blinker even though I haven’t seen another car for ten miles, and turn right onto a gravel driveway. It’s long and winding and I put on my high beams as I make my way to the cabin in the distance. I have no idea what to expect out here, so deep in the woods, and I momentarily wonder if I should have found a colleague to make this transport with me. Who knows what kind of person lives out here? Some wild mountain man, maybe.

  Then I remember that Lorraine said a forest ranger made the call, and I calm myself down. Whoever lives here has had a background check and no criminal record. I don’t need to work myself up for no reason. I just need to park my car, get in this cabin, and do some paperwork. Then I will be on my way. Maybe when I get home, I can go onto one of those online dating apps… meet someone that way?

  Groaning, I turn off the ignition and reach behind me for the diaper bag. I have no idea how long this baby was left alone, or what it might need. Thankfully I have a little of everything with me. After I step out of the car, I run to the cabin door. The rain is heavy, pelting down on me, and the wind beats around me in wild gusts.

  Drenched, I reach for the door, but before my knuckles even rap against the rustic hardwood, it’s pulled open.

  Standing before me is the most ruggedly handsome mountain man I’ve ever seen. He has a thick beard, dark brown eyes that match the trunk of a cedar tree. He’s tall, broad shouldered, in a flannel shirt that is rolled up to the elbows, revealing forearms covered in tattoos.

  And though I’m distracted by his core-tightening muscles, it’s the fact that he’s bleeding that has me covering my mouth — scared. There’s a deep gash across his forehead and he’s holding a cloth against it as if trying to stop the blood. It’s not really working.

  And then I hear the cry of a baby. A wail, really.

  What exactly is going on in here?

  Kutter

  I’m staring. Which I know is rude. But I can’t exactly help it. This woman at my doorstep is ridiculously sexy. The kind of sexy I’ve been dreaming about for a long ass time.

  Her eyes are deep blue like the river that runs through Fox Hollow. Her figure curvy and petite, like a goddamn forest nymph.

  “Oh god, what’s happened here?” she asks, pushing me aside. The fear in her voice is a relief, to be honest. It means she cares. And right now, that is what this poor baby needs.

  She survived a cougar attack after being left with nothing but a note. She’s way too small to have already been through hell and back.

  “Everything’s okay now. I’m Kutter,” I say as the woman steps past me into the house. “You Katie?”

  I was given the name of social worker who would be coming.

  Katie nods. “Where’s the baby?”

  “She’s right here,” I say, showing her the way. “I made her a little bed in a drawer.”

  Katie kneels down to the baby, who is nested in my flannel shirts — figured they’re the softest things I own — and close enough to the wood-burning fireplace to warm up. Who knows how long she’d been left out in the cold?

  A shudder passes through me again, the horror I felt when I found her at the ranger station, left all alone.

  The cougars were so fucking close.

  Katie pushes off her soaked jacket — the rain is coming down so damn hard. And my cock twitches as I take in the view of her in a white tee shirt, snug in all the right places, and wet in the right places too. Fuck, her tits look good.

  Which is not what I should be focusing on. Right now, it’s about making sure this sweet baby is safe. Though I swear to god, one look at the sweet pea’s face and I made a vow: to protect this little one as if my life depended on it.

  Katie picks up the baby girl, examining her quickly, looking for any indication of harm. I run a hand over my beard, not able to fathom Katie’s job — the breadth of her responsibility. I’m in awe.

  “She looks okay,” I say. “I didn’t have diapers, so I made one from a dish towel… and I didn’t have any formula. I tried to call my buddy down the road, he has a little girl, but the reception is shit during storms and I couldn’t get through.”

  “She does look all right, though probably pretty hungry,” Katie says, pulling open the bag she brought in. “But you don’t look fine. You look…” She shakes her head. “What happened to you?”

  “A cougar who was a little close for my liking.” I press the towel to my forehead, telling her how I came upon the wild cats in the woods, how they were inching closer to the baby carrier, how I had to fight them off to keep this little girl safe.

  “Oh my god,” she says, her eyes wide in surprise. She walks to the kitchen and begins preparing the bottle, the baby nestled in her arm. “You could have been killed.”

  I shrug. “But I wasn’t.”

  “You’re still bleeding.” She screws the top on the bottle and eases it into the baby’s mouth. The little one begins suckling immediately. “You need stitches.”

  “Not gonna get those tonight,” I say, my eyes fixed on the baby, the way she is nestled so sweetly in Katie’s arms. It’s like they’ve been together since the beginning.

  “Why not?” she asks as the wind howls around us.

  “It’s only gonna take a few more gusts and the power is gonna go out.”

  “Then I should go, now.” The baby is still eating, but Katie carries her to the living room and turns to me. “Can you hold her for a second?”

  I take the baby gingerly. For the last ninety minutes, when it was just the two of us, I sang her every song I could remember my ma singing when I was a kid.

  Katie opens the bag and grabs diapers and wipes, a change of clothes. “And I need to get you to fill out some paperwork.” She reaches into a second bag and pulls out a tablet. She turns it on and flips it to face me. “I just need you to fill out everything you remember, for the report. And you mentioned a note?”

  “Yeah, it’s on the kitchen table.” We swap; she takes the baby and I take the tablet. “It didn’t say much.” I hand it to her. I memorized the words: I can’t do this. Please take care of her.

  “God,” Katie says, shaking her head, her bottom lip trembling as she reads the note. She kisses the top of the baby’s head. “She is all alone in the world.”

  Just then, another swirl of wind rattles the cabin and a large crack breaks the howl. “Lightning?” she asks.

  I shake my head, stepping toward the big front window overlooking the driveway. “No. That was the cedar tree. Splitting in two.”

  Katie stands beside me. I feel the heat of her skin, and I want her to step in closer. “The driveway,” she whispers. “It’s blocked.”

  “You’re not going anywhere tonight,” I say, knowing there’s not a chance of moving that tree in the dark without a truck to help clear it.

  “What do you mean?” Katie shakes her head, eyes widening. “I can’t say here.”

  Just then, the lights flicker. Right before going completely out.

  Katie

  This cannot be happening. I’m in a pitch-dark cabin with a stranger and a baby. And now I’m stuck here until morning?

  “I need to go to the shed and turn on the generator. Are you going to be okay in here alone?”

  I blink, tears filling my eyes. I don’t think he’s joking. I really won’t be leaving anytime soon. I’m just grateful the tree didn’t smash down on my car.

  “Hey, uh…” Kutter clears his throat, his hand resting on my shoulder. It comforts me — as crazy as that sounds. But it feels good to know I’m not in this alone. “Don’t cry. It’s just the power. Not life or death.”

  I look at the gash on his forehead. Kutter fought wild cougars for this baby. My heart ti
ghtens at the thought, how scary it must have been. How quickly he must have moved into action to keep this baby safe.

  He may be a burly mountain man… but it’s clear he’s a softie at heart. He risked his own flesh for her safety.

  “If you fought off cougars, I can handle the dark for a few minutes,” I tell him with shaky breath.

  He squeezes my shoulder. “Good. You girls will be okay. Go sit by the fire so you don’t get cold. And let me get you a flashlight.”

  He rummages around in a cupboard for a moment, and then a large flashlight illuminates the room. He hands it to me, pausing for a second as if he wants to say more. I swallow, wishing I knew what this man is thinking. He’s stuck with the two of us for the rest of the night.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  After Kutter leaves the cabin, I prop the flashlight on the table and lay the baby back in the dresser drawer. Quickly, I change her from the dishcloth diaper, and put her in a clean sleeper. I’m guessing she is all but four months old. Patting her belly, I reach for my cell phone in my bag, then I dial Lorraine to give my boss an update. But I have zero bars, and no way to contact her.

  “Guess we’re off the grid for a night,” I say. The flickering embers in the fireplace soothe me as I look around Kutter’s cabin. At first glance I thought it was simply a rustic bachelor pad, but I realize everything he owns appears to be of good quality. Thick wool blankets on the back of a brown leather couch. A bookshelf lined with books. A hunting rifle hanging by the door, and a kitchen that has been recently remodeled — it flashes with modern appliances way fancier than the ones I have in my apartment. It relaxes me a bit, seeing that I’m not in some creepy backwoods cabin for the night.