Solomon snorts at the theatrics. “We’ve pissed on that brick.” He nods proudly at Tessie. “You want this done? She’s your girl. She does this for a living.”
“And I’ll do it for free,” she says with a smug smile. “Take it or leave it. Because I’m unemployed and I’m a sucker for a good Cinderella-story project.”
“Fine.” Groaning, Howler slaps a sticky menu against Solomon’s chest. “You better come up with the best damn menu in Alaska.”
“Damn right I will.” Solomon’s eyes snag on Tessie.
His heart clenches.
Goddamn, he loves the way she looks in his bar.
Tonight, he’s going to love the way she looks in his bed.
Thirty minutes later, Solomon’s whipping the truck down a winding gravel road. As they pass through a grove of dark evergreens, a cabin comes into view. Tessie sits up straight and turns to him. “Is that it?”
He noses into the driveway, kills the engine. “That’s it.”
A quick examination of the expansive yard has her smiling. Solomon’s cabin isn’t quite the dark and dilapidated shack she imagined. Instead, it’s a quaint V-frame cabin nestled in the fringe of the boreal forest. Like a stylishly unfinished Colorado ski lodge. Chopped firewood is stacked in a pyramid pile next to an axe. A stone path winds its way up to the door. Blown glass wind chimes hang in the trees surrounding the yard. A large wooden deck perfect for reading or watching the stars welcomes visitors.
Her home.
For the next however many days, at least.
The slam of the truck door snags her attention. Solomon’s out and rounding the front of the hood. With a grin, she takes the opportunity to ogle her handsome mountain man. He looks so damn good. So in his element with his beard and his muscles and his hound dog, who’s howling in the back.
Her door opens. Then, gripping her hand with quiet intensity, Solomon helps her out.
Tessie stands in the wild woods, soaking it all in. This place Solomon loves. The heartbeat of this wild, wondrous country. A cool breeze whispers through the trees, ruffles the ends of her hair. Far off, there’s the faint trickle of a creek or stream. Birdsong high in the trees. Rough, craggy mountains loom over the cabin like it’s their solemn duty to protect it.
This sure beats the view of her apartment parking lot.
“What do you think?” Solomon asks, his gaze expectant. Nervous.
She inclines her head to look up at him. “Hmm,” she hums. “It’s not as grump as I imagined.”
She’s rewarded with a good-natured grunt. “Are you calling me a grump?”
“I’m calling you my grump.”
His eyes soften, and the smile that appears on his lips sends her heart into a cartwheel.
Far off, the howl of a wolf. Tessie edges closer, gripping Solomon’s comforting bicep.
As he regards the cabin, Tessie sees the knot of tension in his body fall away. He looks relaxed. Comfortable. At home.
“Did you miss it?” she asks softly.
With a heated look at her, he tugs her suitcase out of the back of the truck. “Not as much as I thought I would.”
Her heart gives a little flip.
“C’mon, Pregnant Woman.” He opens the tailgate of the truck and helps Peggy out, then twines his fingers with hers. “This way.”
Obediently, Tessie follows him up the drive to the house. She pauses on the deck and nods at what looks like a storage shed on stilts set about twelve feet from the house.
“Why’s it elevated?”
“To keep wild animals out,” Solomon says, digging into his pocket for the key. He finds it and sticks it in the lock. “Better get inside.” He lifts his brows, his tone foreboding. “We probably only have a few minutes until it gets dark.”
“Wait, what?” Fear prickles the back of Tessie’s neck, and she scans the tree line. The sun’s rays grow dimmer and dimmer through the foliage. “What happens when it gets dark?”
Turning back to Solomon, she catches sight of his smirk and slaps his arm. “Evil man,” she hisses.
His smirk turning into a rare full-wattage grin, he kisses her temple, then swings the front door open. Peggy bounds inside with a woof. Cautiously, curiously, Tessie steps past Solomon. Instantly, the space is illuminated with a flip of the light switch.
“Oh, Solomon.” She presses palms to her stomach and stops in her tracks. “It’s so pretty.”
Nothing she pictured did this justice. She had expected a stark, sparse space, but instead, she finds. . .charm. Beauty.
Solomon.
He keeps blowing all her assumptions about him out of the water.
Blowing up her heart.
The interior of the cabin is even better than the exterior. The living room, kitchen and dining room are open concept. In the elevated living room, two leather couches sit cozily in front of a stone fireplace.
Rustic yet chic. Something she would design.
Tessie walks the room breathlessly, pressing palms to the wood walls. Natural. No stain or paint. Just wild wilderness. She sniffs the wall. Looks at Solomon, who’s watching her with an amused smile. “Pine?” she asks.
“Spruce,” he corrects, setting her bag down and shutting the door.
She drops down beside the long kitchen table. Four chairs and a bench. Wood as smooth as silk. Running a finger over an elaborate leg, she peeks over. “Did you make this?”
He nods. “I did.”
“It’s beautiful.”
Another gasp, the wheels in her mind spinning with possibilities. “You should make the furniture at Howler’s Roost for the remodel. Oh! The bar top. The stools!”
He chuckles. “Howler’s already got me writing a menu. Don’t push it.”
She stands, giving a little wiggle, and Solomon’s eyes flash in response. “What can I say? Chinook’s inspiring me already.” Tossing her hair over her shoulders, she arches a brow. “Except for maybe your friend.”
The guy froze her out, clear as day. But she won’t let it bother her. After her time in LA, she’s used to cold shoulders and angry glares.
Solomon’s face clouds. “Howler. . .he’s just. . .”
“Jealous?”
“I’m not sure.” He drags a hand through his dark hair. His hard jaw resets. “Don’t worry about him. Focus on the bar, and we’ll get it done.” His serious gaze drifts to her belly. “It’s gotta be fast, Tess.”
She holds up a hand. “It will be,” she promises. “I’m all about a challenge.”
Excitement flutters in her chest. Fixing up Solomon’s bar is pure adrenaline. A detailed vision of what the space could be came to her almost instantly. Industrial yet warm. Brooding but fun. Howler’s personality melded with Solomon’s. Because they’re the soul of that bar, and it’s important to reflect that.
This design—it’s in her wheelhouse. It will give her something to do, help her feel not so lost at sea, put her restless anxiety to good use. Because before long, she needs to find a job. Before that old nervous energy comes calling.
When Tessie gets to the deep stairs that cut into the wooden wall leading up to the loft bedroom, she stops. There’s no railing.
“Those stairs. . .” Solomon begins, looking adorably worried. “They’re not safe for you.”
“You weren’t exactly expecting a pregnant woman to be huffing up them.”
When he says nothing, his expression turning to a scowl, she goes to him, placing a hand on the front of his chest. His heart pumps fast beneath her hand.
She gives him a small smile. “Solomon, it’s fine. I’ll be careful.”
He studies her, and then his mouth softens. “I’ll help you.”
With Solomon behind her, his palm on the small of her back, guiding her, she slowly and carefully climbs the stairs.
She gasps.
In the middle of the loft bedroom is a large bed. A faux fur-covered blanket is draped over one end, a leather bench at the foot of it. On one side of the room sits a wooden rocking chair and a small side table. An old claw-foot tub is opposite, next to the bathroom.
Delighted, she pulls Solomon by the hand. “Solemn Man, you have a tub.”
He chuckles. “I’m not that off the grid.”