Page 37 of Beastly Mountain Man

“It can be simple without always being easy.”

I smiled faintly. “There. I knew you had hidden complexity.”

Lucky’s thumb moved over mine. “I’ve been trying to keep it from you.”

I shifted closer until my head rested against his shoulder.

The flour-streaked sweater was still somewhere on the bedroom floor. Dinner dishes remained in the kitchen. The cake was still on the counter, imperfectly frosted, and most of the bottle of wine was gone.

None of that needed correcting before I could lie here.

My phone chimed on the nightstand.

I reached for it because a weather alert was different from an email.

The resort message confirmed that Upper Ridge was temporarily closed to nonessential vehicle traffic. Crews would reassess the internal road in the morning. The lodge remained staffed, utilities were normal, and guests were safe to remain in place.

I handed the phone to Lucky.

He read it and gave it back.

“I was already planning to wait before driving down. I’m not taking the road if they’ve closed it.”

“You could stay.”

Lucky looked at me.

The invitation came easily now, but I wanted there to be no confusion about why I was making it.

“I don’t mean until someone clears the road enough for you to leave. I want you to stay tonight.”

His face softened.

“I’d like that.”

“Good.”

He kissed my forehead, then got up long enough to lock the exterior door, check the fire, and settle Bear for the night. The dog followed him down the hall and made one enormous circle on the rug outside the bedroom before collapsing with an equally enormous sigh.

When Lucky returned to bed, I moved into his arms before he had fully settled.

Outside, the snowfall had thickened enough that the exterior lights illuminated little more than rushing white and the nearest dark pine trunks. The upper road still existed somewhere beneath the accumulation, but no pavement remained visible from the windows.

My laptop stayed closed in the great room.

The dishes stayed in the kitchen.

Lucky’s arm settled securely around my waist while Bear’s breathing deepened from the rug.

Nothing required fixing before morning.

I fell asleep with Lucky beside me, the road disappearing beneath snow and my laptop still closed in the other room.

Chapter Four

I woke before six to the kind of quiet that only came after heavy snow.

No tires moved on Upper Ridge. No wind pushed at the windows. Even the pines beyond Caprice’s bedroom had gone still beneath the white reflected light coming through the glass. Somewhere lower on the property, a generator carried its steady hum through the morning, which told me the important part before I ever reached for my phone.