Lonely Alpha

Lonely Alpha

Ranae Rose

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This book is a work of fiction. All characters, names and events are products of the author’s imagination and are in no way real. Any resemblance to real events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Lonely Alpha

Smashwords edition

Copyright © 2012 Ranae Rose

Cover Design by Ranae Rose

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Chapter 1

Mandy’s butt had fused to the driver’s seat of her Honda. She was sure of it.

She guided the car around what seemed like the millionth hair-pin turn of the day, sighing as she shifted, trying to work some feeling into her numbed cheeks. Only five more minutes to go. Or at least, that was her best guess. Her traitorous GPS had given up on the journey half an hour ago, leaving her to navigate the Tennessee wilderness on her own. Her road trip from Nashville to the Great Smoky Mountains had already proven to be even longer than the time quoted on the directions she’d printed out as back-up – the sun was creeping lower and lower, and would set before long. The drive had eaten up most of the first day of her vacation, but the evening should be salvageable…if she could find her cabin.

Ah, she sighed, cracking a window and letting the brisk spring air rush in. It had been too long since she’d breathed such unabashedly fresh air. She loved the outdoors and always had; there was just something about disappearing into the peaks and valleys of the mountains that made her feel alive. She didn’t get to do it often, so she fully intended to make the most of this week.

Tendrils of her blond hair escaped the loose knot she’d twisted them into, but who cared? She’d be alone with nature this week. Gloriously alone; free to let her hair go to crap if she felt like it. She had a brand new pair of hiking boots, a dozen unread books and a year’s supply of loose-leaf tea packed somewhere in her trunk. She didn’t need anything or anyone else. This vacation was a reward for her hard work, and she’d promised it to herself ages ago. She’d put it off for over a year, convinced she was too busy to escape city life for even a week, until one day she’d realized that she’d never take the trip unless she buckled down and forced herself to take a break. Now, here she was, lost in the seemingly endless Smoky Mountains. It felt good.

Whoa! A doe bounded across the road, her white tail held high.

Mandy hit the brakes, glancing reflexively at her rearview mirror. Fortunately, she seemed to be the only one traveling the desolate road. She started forward again, slower this time. It was a good thing too, because if she’d been going any faster, she might have missed the small cabin that was just barely visible through a thick screen of pines. Finally. She smiled, turning into the narrow dirt driveway.

The cabin looked about the same as it had in the pictures online. It was modestly sized and cute in a rustic sort of way – perfect for a vacationer seeking some time alone in the mountains – and even more secluded than she’d realized. As she pulled her keys from the ignition and exited her vehicle, it was like stepping into a new world; a quiet green one, lost deep in the foliage and namesake fog of the Smokies. Everything was perfect.

What the hell? The cabin’s screen door banged open, and a man stepped out, swearing loudly.

Mandy jumped, tripping backward into her car and rolling across the hood like a spy in an action movie, only not nearly as graceful. She barely managed to catch herself before she hit the ground and dirtied her new khaki hiking shorts.

What the hell, she muttered under her breath, echoing the stranger’s words as she braced herself with a hand against the bumper, narrowing her eyes at the man who’d nearly caused her to have a heart attack. He was tall with a shock of unruly, almost-black hair and a strong jaw shadowed by matching stubble. By the looks of him, he hadn’t shaved for days. It was as if he’d given in to the solitude of the mountains, foregoing things like razors...and shirts. The open flannel he wore hung loose at his sides, revealing a tight, toned torso striped with dark hair that formed a diamond in the center of his chest and narrowed to a thin trail that disappeared beneath the waistband of his well-worn jeans. He definitely didn’t look as if he’d been expecting anyone to drop by, and as Mandy stood staring, waiting for her adrenaline surge to ebb, he glared right back at her from the cabin’s front porch.

This ain’t a turnaround, he said, crossing his arms over his chest, it’s private property.

He was about as refined and charming as he looked. Mandy scowled. I’ve rented this place from today ‘till next Thursday. What are you doing here?

He mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘the hell you did’, and shifted his stance, causing his shirt to gape even wider, shamelessly revealing a well-muscled hip. I told you, this is private property.

Mandy rolled her eyes. Maybe he was some sort of deranged mountain man squatting in her rented vacation home, hoping to scare her off with his bad manners. He seemed a little young for that – he looked about her age, and couldn’t have been older than thirty – but in any case, it wasn’t going to work. She straightened and marched right up to the porch, jutting her chin out to match his defiant expression. When she stopped within a couple feet of him, his scent hit her like a freight train. It was all fresh pine and masculine, woodsy musk. She took one deep, gluttonous breath before forcing herself to breathe shallowly, refusing to appreciate his smell. Is this 113 Whippoorwill Road?

His full lips curved slowly, showing her just a hint of a cocky smile. Sure ain’t.

She scrutinized his face, trying to determine whether he was telling the truth. It was a challenge not to take a step backward when she met his eyes. They were hazel – the brightest hazel she’d ever seen. Almost gold. His stare was…penetrating. And irksome, when paired with that condescending half-smile. Then just where might I be, she asked, managing to keep her voice mostly steady, if this isn’t 113 Whippoorwill Road?

Pine Ridge, he said, drawing out each syllable with his thick Southern accent like she was too stupid to understand if he spoke at a normal pace.

What a smug ass. And yet… Pine Ridge Road… It did sound vaguely familiar. Hold on. I’m getting my map.

He stood motionlessly as she turned on her heel and marched for her car. His stare burnt into her back, making her want to shrug. She resisted the urge, retrieving the map and directions she’d printed and striding to the porch with them in hand. Her stomach tied itself into a series of uneasy knots as she scanned the papers. Pine Ridge isn’t anywhere near Whippoorwill.

He shrugged. Might not seem close to a city girl like you, but it’s only a few miles away. Just around the other side of the mountain.

City girl? Was he serious? She barely managed to suppress a snort as she met those strange almost-golden eyes again. So you’re not just trying to get rid of me – I really am in the wrong place?

He nodded, and a little heat crept into her cheeks. She’d been so sure…this cabin was the only building she’d seen for miles. Who actually lived out here, so cut off from civilization? But as she glanced around, she noticed things she’d overlooked in her excitement, such as the old pick-up truck parked around the side of the cabin. With its rust-eaten body, it blended almost seamlessly with the forest behind it. Its wheels were sunken into well-established ruts in the ground, and it looked as if it probably hadn’t been driven in ages. People didn’t leave crappy old trucks in the yards of vacation cabins. This was a home. She swallowed. I thought for sure that this was my rental cabin.

He arched an eyebrow at her, clearly nonplussed.

My GPS crapped out on me and… She trailed off. He obviously didn’t care what had led her to make the mistake. She made a conscious effort to smooth her features as a wave of irritation rolled over her. Do you think you could give me directions to Whippoorwill?

He rattled off a string of directions, as if he knew the mountain like the back of his own hand. For being ‘just around the other side of the mountain’, the journey there was pretty damn complicated. She jotted down his instructions on the back of her useless internet directions. Thanks, she said when he finished. I appreciate you directing me, and uh…

God, apologizing to him rankled. There was just something about his arrogant expression that made saying the words feel more like swallowing acid. I’m sorry about the misunderstanding. It was my mistake. She finished anyway. Maybe he’d take a hint and get some manners of his own.

He tilted his head ever so slightly in her