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

  Maker

  She may be a good girl but she's also drunk off her ass and God, she looks adorable even as she sways across the yurt.

  "I think you should get into bed," I tell her, taking her hand, wanting to join her. But knowing I shouldn’t.

  She reaches behind herself and unzips the pink dress she wore to the wedding. "I'm so tired," she moans, “and I feel like I might be sick."

  "Do you need some fresh air?" I ask as she lets her dress fall to the floor. She has on a bra that pushes her tits up high, a pair of pale pink panties that hug her hips perfectly. She's curvy and cute. Her belly button poking out, not in. I groan, inwardly wanting to do exactly what she suggested, ravish her, devour her, take her in head to toe, but she's rubbing her eyes.

  "I don't think I'm going to throw up, I just think I need some water."

  Nodding, I reach for a bottle on a side table, unscrewing the cap. "Here, take this." I root around her toiletry bag that's sitting on the floor, finding a bottle of ibuprofen. "And these too, it'll help with your headache tomorrow."

  She pushes out her bottom lip. "Aw, you are a good guy, you're taking care of me."

  I smile knowing she's not going to remember any of this tomorrow. "Why don't you just get in bed and close your eyes?"

  "The room is spinning," she whimpers. "Oh, no. I don't want to fall."

  I take her hand, my palm on the base of her back. "Come on little one, let's get you into bed."

  She scoots into the bed and I pull the blankets up over her, hating that I'm covering such a delicious sight. She pulls on my hand. "Come in bed with me," she says. "Please, I don't want to be alone. If I get sick or I need to find the bathroom, I'm going to get lost."

  My cock twitches, my mind races. She's right, she shouldn't be left alone. She could wander out into the woods and get lost. Something could happen to her. I can't have that. I slip off my shoes and undo my tie.

  I want to strip down to nothing, but I'm trying to be that good guy now, a gentleman. So instead, I just take off my dress shirt, take off the belt and lie next to her in the bed. Her eyes rake over me. She licks her lips and fuck, I see that desire in her eyes too. But instead of my mouth meeting hers, I simply tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear and kiss her forehead. "Go to sleep, Marley Grove. Go to sleep."

  She closes her eyes and rolls toward me, nestling her face against my chest. I've never done this, slept with a woman I cared about. I mean, really cared about. I know what that says about me, that I'm the goddamn monster everyone thinks I am. And it's not that I don't care about other women, it's just, Marley's different.

  She looks at me like I'm someone I'm not, like I'm someone I could be. It’s probably the champagne talking. That’s probably why she was so damn interested in me in the first place. She forgot everything I am — but I can't. Those are the demons I sleep with, the nightmares that chase me down each night. So I watch her instead, as she falls asleep. I make a promise to do whatever I can to make sure she is safe, secure. She owes me nothing and maybe that's why, despite my intentions, I find myself falling asleep with her in my arms. It's something I've never done before, but damn it feels right.

  In the morning, I wake with a start. Two hands press against my chest, a shriek.

  "Oh my God." Marley's eyes are wide-open and she's looking at me, looking down at me with complete shock. Horror? Either way, she's not happy. "Oh my God," she says, "What did we do? What did I do?" She covers her mouth and I sit up in bed, taking her hands from my chest, trying to calm her down.

  "We didn't do anything, Marley.” In my mind though, I'm thinking about all the things I wanted to do with her as her sweet skin wrapped around my body last night. My cock hard as she ground her ass against my belly, against me. She wanted it, I know she did. Her nipples were hard and I heard her moan my name in her sleep, but I didn't take what she tried to give. Instead I rolled her over to her side, cradling her there, whispering sweet nothings as she fell back asleep.

  I'm trying to be a good guy.

  "How did this happen?" she asks, jumping out of bed. Her cute butt bouncing just like her tits. "How did you end up in my bed?" she asks again.

  I pull the blankets off, revealing the fact I'm still half-dressed. "I walked you back to your yurt last night," I tell her. "You were drunk and we were having a good time."

  "A good time?" she asks, covering her face with a groan. "Oh my God, what kind of good time? Did we… Are you sure we…" She grimaces.

  I chuckle, running a hand over my beard. "Would that really be so bad, Marley Grove? You and me having a good time?"

  She cringes, shaking her head, her hair falling over her shoulders. "It's just if I have sex for the first time, I'd really like to remember it."

  My jaw tightens. She's a virgin. I stalk toward her, wanting to do so much more. "We didn't fuck if that's what you're wondering. We didn't even kiss."

  "No?" she asks, a question in her eyes that bruises my ego. She assumes I took advantage of her — what does that say about me? "No, Marley. We didn't. I'm a good guy, remember?"

  Her eyes search mine, a flash of a memory. "And I'm a good girl," she says slowly. She licks her lips, calming down.

  "Here," I say, handing her the half-filled bottle of water, “drink this."

  "Thank you," she says, wrapping her hand around her throat. "I'm parched and starving."

  "Then let's find ourselves some breakfast," I say.

  She looks at me like I'm crazy. "No, you have to go. You have to…"

  "What?" I ask, grinning. "You don't want to show up at breakfast with me by your side?"

  “I didn't say that. I meant…" She looks down at herself. "I have to get dressed."

  I smile. "I've already seen you undress."

  "That's beside the point," Marley says. Her cheeks are pink and damn, it's cute.

  "What's the point exactly, then?" I ask.

  "I just think it would be best if you go to your yurt and I stay in mine and we get dressed and meet up later, so no one thinks anything."

  "What don't you want them to think?" I press, knowing full well what she's thinking.

  "I don't want people to think we hooked up when we didn't."

  "All right," I say, realizing that her innocence is no act. She does have a reputation and she intends on keeping it. Hell, I can understand that much. My reputation for being a hard ass kept me from making any good decisions for a long ass time.

  "Look," I tell her, "the last thing I want is for you to be upset with me, so I'll go clean up, you get yourself in some clean panties and I'll save you a seat next to me at breakfast."

  She closes her eyes, presses a finger to her temple. "Oh my God, why are you being so nice to me?"

  "Because, Marley Grove," I say with a grin, "last night I slept like a damn baby."

  Her eyes open. "We really just slept together, right? We didn't do anything else?"

  I shake my head. I know if I told her that she was whimpering my name in her sleep, if I let her know that I saw when she ran her fingers between her thighs, it would mortify her.

  I have no intention of making her uncomfortable, not when I have so many plans of making her feel real damn good.

  Marley

  The entire time we're sitting at the post-wedding breakfast, I feel his eyes on me.

  I'd be lying if I said I didn't like it. I do. It feels intoxicating, incredible. My body is tingling in ways it never has before. He slept in my bed last night and when I woke, I was in complete shock. I don't remember anything after dancing with him, so maybe it was more than a few glasses of champagne and a few shots. Maybe I lost count, but he says he was a gentleman, and I woke up in my bra and panties and he had on his pants, which makes me think nothing happened.

  He says he's a good guy, and I want to believe him, but I have absolutely no reason to. Everyone has warned me against him. I know Bellamy has good reason not to trust him and the way Wavy comments on him, not to mention Jemma, I know the three women
sitting at this wedding breakfast are only being polite when they don't scowl at him.

  Which makes me wonder why exactly I'm drawn to him, this guy with such a terrible reputation, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and apparently my heart wants him.

  I pick up a piece of bacon, taking a crispy bite, washing it down with a sip of my mimosa, smiling at everyone around me. Pretending Maker isn't staring from the seat beside me.

  Beam and Bellamy have planned a honeymoon. They're leaving tomorrow for Mexico. Hearing them laugh now, talking about being away for two weeks, makes my heart fill with happiness. They look so in love. So ridiculously right for one another. Both of them scarred from a lifetime of hurt. And as I look around the table, I realize everyone sitting here has come from a troubled past.

  It's only me who's had an idyllic childhood, who has had an easy life in general, but instead of feeling lucky, I feel guilty. Why me? Why not them?

  "You okay?" Maker asks, leaning in close as the other couples at the table get up, planning their mornings, discussing their routes home. Wavy and Walker have a sea plane, and so do Jameson and Jemma. I was hoping to radio in a boat from a charter service. Riverside is a three-hour journey from this island.

  "I'm all right," I tell Maker, "I just, I need to figure out a ride home. I need to make a call."

  "You ready to leave so soon?” he asks.

  I shrug. "It was a great wedding, I admit, but honestly, I'm still getting to know everyone here and I don't want to outstay my welcome. I know everyone else has a lot more shared history than I do.”

  Maker nods slowly. "I can take you home."

  "Really?” I ask. "You don't have to."

  "I have a boat. I was planning on leaving this afternoon. Figured I'd still get back to Riverside before night."

  “You're going to Riverside?" I ask, not knowing where he lives exactly.

  "I’m going there if it means I can take you home,” he says with a crooked smile. "Look, I'm not used to doing this."

  "To doing what?” I ask. We're alone at the table now. Everyone else is off for the day.

  "Not used to asking a woman out."

  I smile. "Are you asking me out, Maker?"

  He chuckles. "Fuck. I'm bad at this. Look, I like you, and not just because you look damn good in your bra and panties. I like you because you make me laugh and smile and feel young again."

  I lick my lips. "You're not that old, are you?"

  He shrugs. "I'm past 30. What about you, Marley Grove?”

  "I'm 24," I tell him.

  "Twenty-four and a virgin." He whistles. "Damn girl. That's trouble."

  "Is it?" I ask. "I thought it was an asset."

  "Depends," he says. "Depends on what you're waiting for."

  "I'm waiting for the right moment."

  "Not the right man?"

  I shrug. "I don't know if I ever expect to find that. I've lived in Alaska my entire life and my brothers aren't exactly generous when it comes to men asking me out."

  "What do you mean?"

  "My brothers are over-protective. They don't let guys past the asking out phase."

  Maker laughs. "Well, good thing your brothers aren't here to answer for you today.”

  I nod slowly. "Yeah, good thing." I smile. “Oh, and my next-door neighbor is the sheriff, so everyone is always watching over me.”

  He stiffens. “Damn, I hate cops.”

  “Why?” I ask, instantly regretting it. He’s a criminal — or was one. Of course he has problems with men in uniform.

  “Just never seemed to get along with them. I avoid them at all costs.”

  I lick my lips. “Good to know.” Turning the topic away from law enforcement, I ask, “So, you planning on taking your boat toward Riverside today?”

  “You asking to see if I will take you home?” he asks with a sexy grin.

  I smile back. “You caught me.”

  "You want to leave now?”

  "I thought you said you were leaving this afternoon?"

  "I know, but now that I realize your over-protective brothers are going to be hard to win over, I figure you and I should spend the day together on the boat, out on the open sea. Have a good time. See where we are before we invite your brothers into this relationship."

  Now, it's my turn to laugh. "Oh, it's a relationship now? I thought you were just asking me out, or was it you were just driving me home?"

  He takes my hand. "Does it matter? Listen, Marley, I like you. You like me. We both feel it, so let's see where it can take us."

  I nod. "Okay. I'll just say goodbye to everyone and pack up my things."

  He nods. "Good. My boat's down at the dock. You want to leave in an hour?"

  My heart flutters. I have a feeling that once I'm alone on a boat with Maker, anything could happen.

  I walk away from the table knowing he's staring at my butt as I move. I shake it a little bit and he groans, "You're trouble, Marley Grove."

  I don't look over my shoulder. I don't trust myself not to run into his arms, kiss him hard, drag him down to my yurt, to his boat, anywhere we can be alone.

  First, I need to go thank Beam and Bellamy for inviting me here to their ceremony. When I find Bellamy in the tree house, she's with Wavy and Jemma, all of them laughing, old friends. I'm the odd man out.

  "Hey," I say, "I just wanted to stop in and say thank you. I'm headed out, and thank you again for inviting me to your wedding. It was incredible, Bellamy, and I hope your honeymoon is amazing."

  Bellamy wraps her arms around me. "You're leaving so soon? You can say another night if you want. Beam and I are leaving tomorrow."

  "I know, but Maker's going to give me a ride back to Riverside in his boat."

  "Maker is?” Jemma asks. "Why?"

  "We were both headed in the same direction."

  Wavy frowns. "But I thought Maker's cabin was up in the Whiskey Mountains. I thought he just bought a piece of property on the ridge opposite from where our place is?"

  "Oh," I say, "I don't actually know. I just met Maker."

  "Right." The three women share a look. "Are you sure you feel okay being alone with him?” Bellamy asks, resting her hand on my shoulder.

  "Yeah, I feel okay," I say with a nervous laugh. "I'm a grownup. I can handle myself."

  Wavy nods slowly. "I know you can, Marley. You seem like a really smart person and you know Alaska better than any of us, so I trust your ability to navigate yourself home. I just want you to be careful."

  "What, you think I'll make a bad decision about Maker?"

  Jemma shrugs. "He has that dangerous draw about him."

  I twist my lips. "I'm not going to do anything stupid. He's giving me a ride home. That's all."

  "Okay. As long as you feel good about it," Bellamy says.

  I frown. "I thought he spent the last year or so wandering these mountains and working out his issues?” I ask. "I thought that's what you said about him. That he was turning over a new leaf."

  "Sure," Wavy says, "but old habits die hard."

  "Is that what you guys have all said to your husbands?” I ask, knowing this question is as pointed and direct as I ever get. I don't do confrontation and I don't do fights, but I know they're all married to men with shady pasts, drug lords and drug dealers.

  Maker's not the only bad guy who's working on cleaning up his act on this mountain.

  "Fair enough," Bellamy says. "We've all ended up with men who have overcome hurdles, so who am I to judge Maker?"

  Jemma nods. "It's true, but Marley, you seem so sweet. I'd hate to see… see you hurt.”

  I set my shoulders straight. "Look, I know I've never slept with a man and may come across as a sweetheart, but I have a backbone. I know how to ask for what I want and how to say no. You don't have to worry about me. I know I've been a bit protected by my big brothers my entire life, but that doesn't mean I don't know who I am. It doesn't mean I need a man to tell me what I want and how I want it."

  Bellamy grins.
"See, this is why I love you, Marley Grove," she says, wagging her hand. "You are a freaking bad ass babe."

  "Thank you for worrying about me," I say to them. "I mean it."

  "Sorry if we got a little mother-hen," Wavy says. "I'm just looking out for you is all."

  "Thank you," I say. "I'm lucky to have so many people in my corner."

  "Just don't go falling in love with the first man you sleep with," Jemma says.

  I lift my eyebrows. "Why not?" I ask.

  "Love can be more complicated than that is all," she says back. "I don't want you to get your hopes crushed by falling for a man who doesn't have the ability to pick up the pieces of your broken heart."

  I feel a surge of protection for Maker. Defensiveness. These women don't think he's good enough for me or that he is able to take care of me. They’ve only seen him at his worst, but that's not the kind of person Maker needs in his life right now. He needs a woman who can see him at his best.

  I say goodbye to them, leaving the tree house, walking toward the dock.

  I'm the girl Maker needs, and maybe when I get on that boat, I'll tell him that.

  Maker

  The engine's on and I'm waiting for her. Idle. Anxious. Ready. I'm never like this. I'm always in control. Ready, confident. But Marley puts all those old habits to rest because she's nothing like anyone I've ever met before. She’s sweet, honest, open-hearted, willing to give a man like me a chance. She's way too good for me and we both know it. Yet there she is walking down the dock, eyes bright, smile big.

  "Are you going to come help me with my suitcase?" she calls out. "I don't think I can lift it up on my own."

  I jump off the boat and run the few yards down the dock toward her, taking the suitcase from her hand. She has a straw bag over her shoulder and a straw hat on her head. Flip-flops, a sun dress, long wavy hair, and not a stitch of makeup. Those freckles shine right through. Damn, she's adorable.

  I try not to growl when I think of her virginity, her tight pussy, never been touched, licked, caressed.