But then I think of the audit. Of my father's face when he handed me the keys to Blackwood Construction ten years ago. "Don't let me down, son."
I type back: "Drive carefully. Road gets rough after you pass the Cedar Falls sign. Last mile is gravel. I'll leave the porch light on."
Setting down the phone, I head to the spare bedroom that doubles as my home office. If I'm going to have a stranger in my space, I should at least make an attempt at organization. But as I survey the stacks of papers, receipts stuffed in shoeboxes, and folders bulging with who-knows-what from the past five years, I know it's hopeless.
My bear growls, sensing my frustration. The approaching full moon, the audit, this woman coming to my territory… It's too much. I brace my hands on the desk, feeling my nails lengthen slightly into claws. With a deep breath, I force them back to normal.
"Get it together, Blackwood," I mutter.
The storm intensifies, rain lashing against the windows. In the distance, I hear a vehicle struggling up the gravel road. The distinctive sound of tires slipping in mud, an engine being pushed too hard on the incline. Someone unused to mountain driving.
Ruby Oliver has arrived.
I move to the front door, catching her scent before I even open it. A mixture of coffee, vanilla, and something uniquely femininethat makes my bear suddenly go still with interest. Strange. Usually, he's territorial around strangers, especially now, but there's something about this scent that's...different.
Headlights sweep across the front of the cabin as her car makes the final turn. I step onto the covered porch, rain pelting just feet away, and watch as a small red sedan pulls up beside my truck. The engine cuts off, and for a moment, nothing happens. Then the driver's door opens, and she emerges.
Even through the rain and darkness, I can make out her features perfectly with my enhanced vision. Chestnut hair pulled back in a messy bun. A soft, curvy figure hurrying to retrieve a laptop bag and suitcase from the back seat. She's struggling with both in the downpour, her business attire already soaked.
As she approaches the porch steps, she looks up, and our eyes meet for the first time.
My world stops.
My bear roars to life, surging forward with such force that I have to grip the porch railing to keep from shifting right there.
*Mine*, he growls within me. *MATE*.
Chapter 2 - Ruby
The rain is coming down in sheets as I haul my luggage up the steps, my heels slipping on the wet wood. I look up, and I can’t believe my own eyes.
The man standing on the porch is... enormous. Not just tall, but a presence that seems to fill all the available space around him. The porch light casts shadows across a face that could have been carved from stone. His eyes, though… They're startling. Even in this dim light, they seem to glow with an inner fire, fixed on me with such fierce attention that I feel a strange flutter in my stomach.
"Mr. Blackwood?" I manage, water dripping from my hair into my eyes.
He doesn't respond immediately. Just stares at me with those piercing eyes, his knuckles white where he grips the porch railing. I've met intense clients before, but something about this man's gaze makes me feel like I'm being assessed on a level beyond professional qualifications.
"You must be Ruby Oliver," he finally says, his voice a deep rumble that seems to vibrate through the wooden boards beneath my feet.
I nod, shifting my laptop bag to my other shoulder. "That's me. Emergency bookkeeper, at your service."
"Let me take those." He steps forward and effortlessly lifts my suitcase from my grasp, then reaches for my laptop bag.
"I've got this one," I say, clutching it. "Five years of financial salvation depends on what's in here."
The corner of his mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but close. "Come inside before you drown."
I follow him through the door, immediately enveloped by warmth from a fire crackling in a stone hearth. The cabin is beautiful—exposed wooden beams and natural elements that speak of craftsmanship rather than decoration. It smells of pine and something else, something wild and earthy that I can't quite place.
"I wasn't expecting a castle in the woods," I say, looking around at the spacious interior.
"I built most of it myself," he says, setting my suitcase down. "Expanded what my father left me."
"It's impressive."
He nods once, accepting the compliment without comment. "You're soaked. Bathroom's down the hall if you want to change. Kitchen's there if you need coffee."
"Is it that obvious?"
