The sexiest kind of lumberjack porn runs through my head, and I wonder if I’ve either slipped on the ice and hit my head and now I’m imagining things, or if I’ve wandered onto a porn set in the middle of Montana. If this guy asks me to come inside to warm up, I’m going to assume it’s the latter.
He’s got insanely muscular arms and a thick black beard. He has a bit of a belly, but I can’t tell if it’s muscular or padding. He’s got big thick legs, and his dark hair is tied back.
“You lost?”
Damn, his voice is sexy too. Something familiar about him makes me cock my head, but again, I’m probably thinking of porn.
He studies me. “You got hypothermia?”
I shake my thoughts free. “Sorry, no. I, uh, I don’t think I’m lost. Me and my friends are kind of staying up the road.”
“Kind of? The way I heard it was people were coming to stay in my house whether I liked it or not and I could either join you or fuck off. I chose to stay away, but you still found me.”
That doesn’t make any sense. Cash said he blackmailed—Holy shit.
My eyes widen.
“Mason? Mason Nash?”
How is this possible? He looks nothing like Mason from Eleven, except around the eyes. It’s definitely his eyes.
He folds his arms across his chest. “I haven’t changed that much, have I?”
Is he kidding me?
“You’ve definitely … matured.” It was only a few years ago this guy looked like every other pretty boy in a boy band.
Now he’s all man.
He tilts his head toward the small cottage. “Come inside and warm up. I can drop you back at the house once I’m sure you don’t have frostbite.”
This definitely feels like the porn scenario again. Am I sure I’m not bleeding from a head wound somewhere and this is all a dream? Lumberjack fantasies are running rampant, but even as I think that, I know if the opportunity came up, I wouldn’t take it.
Apart from Mason Nash being straight, so the point’s moot anyway, I’m too far gone for Seb for it to be enjoyable. Even if he’s back at the house not even giving me a second thought.
The warmth of inside hits me as soon as I step into the small house. It’s kept well, but it’s old and more the type of place I thought we’d be staying in when you hear the words cabin in the middle of the woods.
It’s quaint but cozy.
“You can take your shoes and socks off and dry them out by the fire.” Mason points to the living room.
“Thanks.” I do as he says and also take off my jacket, gloves, and beanie, and then meet him in the kitchen. “I’m Thorne, by the way. I don’t know if you remember me.”
“I remember. Thorne Young. Cash Me Outside’s manager.” Mason rummages in the cupboards, looking for something he can’t seem to find.
“What are you doing all the way out here?” I ask.
“This is my mom’s house. The land has been in my family for generations, and it used to be a tree farm.”
“Ah. That explains the …” I gesture to my face.
“The?”
“The beard. And the flannel. You’ve got this whole lumbersexual thing going on.”
Mason snorts. “Thanks.”
“Seriously, man. What happened? Why are you …” I wave around the small cabin. “Here?”
“Uh, because a stupid rock band has taken over my residence? I built that place for my mom and sister and her family to all live with me. They were all ‘We love you, but we’re good. Thanks.’”
“You live up there all by yourself?”
Mason finally finds what he was looking for and pulls down some hot cocoa. “Drink?”
“Please.”
He’s silent while he makes it, but if he thinks I’m letting this go, he’d be wrong. I can’t help staring at his face. Underneath the tired-looking mountain man is a Hollywood A-lister somewhere, but I’m struggling to see it.
“I actually meant why are you in Montana instead of in LA where you belong,” I say when he hands me my cup.
“The world wanted to forget about me, so I let them.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. What about the guys from Eleven?”
The laugh that falls out of him is harsh. “They’re the worst ones.”
“What happened with you guys? I know the stories are all bullshit. There was no huge fight, but something happened for you to have disappeared like this.”
“Why are you walking through the woods trying to kill yourself? Do you know how easy it would’ve been for you to get lost up here?”
Nice deflection, Mason.
“I was following the road. I was fine.”
“Do you know you’ve walked three miles?”
I lift my drink to take a sip, but I pause halfway to my mouth. “Wait, what?” It couldn’t have been that far.
“Want to tell me again how you’re fine?”