Claimed by the Grump: An Age Gap Romance (Burly Mountain Men Book 2), page 22
BLURB
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
After two years stuck in an abusive relationship, I finally escaped.
With nowhere to go and no family to embrace me, I’m on the run.
Aspen Glen is the perfect small town to raise the child growing inside me.
But I’m still not safe. My ex won’t stop until he finds me.
Then I meet Hunter.
Hunter is as handsome as he’s mysterious.
Older. Grumpy. A man without a past.
Some say he’s a former soldier. Others that he’s a criminal lying low.
It doesn’t matter.
Hunter has a proposal.
He needs someone to pretend to be his girlfriend.
I could use the protection his isolated house offers.
We have a deal. A fake relationship for a month and then we part ways.
Hunter makes it clear he’s no knight in shining armor.
He has his dark past. I have mine.
Can two broken people heal each other?
Or are we doomed from the start?
CLAIMED BY THE GRUMP
BURLY MOUNTAIN MEN
BOOK TWO
ERIN HAVOC
Copyright © 2023 by Erin Havoc
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or person, living or dead, is coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All characters are adults.
Cover by Cormar Covers
CONTENTS
Content Warning
1. NATALIE
2. HUNTER
3. NATALIE
4. HUNTER
5. NATALIE
6. NATALIE
7. HUNTER
8. HUNTER
9. NATALIE
10. NATALIE
11. HUNTER
12. HUNTER
13. NATALIE
14. HUNTER
15. NATALIE
16. NATALIE
17. HUNTER
18. HUNTER
19. NATALIE
20. HUNTER
21. NATALIE
22. NATALIE
23. HUNTER
Epilogue
Epilogue
Also by Erin Havoc
About the Author
CONTENT WARNING
Mentions of domestic abuse;
Pregnancy;
Graphic violence;
Stalking (not the hot kind);
Mention of war-related disability;
Undiagnosed PTSD;
Age gap (twenty years);
Cockwarming;
Unprotected sex;
Size difference;
Degradation.
Mental health is health.
NATALIE
A pang of sadness hits me when I think about how different my life used to be. Back in the city, I had a decent job and enough money to live comfortably.
I could even splurge on nice dinners twice a month. I never thought things could come to this.
Never thought I’d live to see the moment I’d debate whether it’s healthier to live off sardines or instant noodles.
“Guess it’s protein over sodium,” I mumble to myself, grabbing a few cans of sardines and dropping them into my basket.
I scan the shelves for any other affordable options, but they all seem equally unappealing. At least I won’t go hungry. So many people have it much worse.
Besides, it’s not forever. Yeah, after that whole thing with losing the job, the “accident”, and having to run away, my spirits were pretty low. But I’m a half-full sort of person. There’s no way my nightmares can follow me across the country like this. There’s no way I’m going to be found in this tiny town.
Once I have a new job, things will start looking up. Soon, I won’t even remember the taste of sardines.
The thought brings a smile to my lips. Sometimes, it’s so hard to maintain my sunny disposition. It’s like life is challenging me.
But that’s the whole thing, isn’t it? It’s easy to be hopeful when you have no problems. Courage is keeping a smile despite the circumstances. And a smile I keep after I grab some rice to go with the sardines and make my way to the cashier.
“Hi there!” I greet the cashier with a smile, hoping that the warmth will brighten my day, even if just for a moment.
She smiles back and starts scanning my items. I open my mouth to make small talk when it happens.
A sudden kick. From inside my belly. I jump in place, a gasp spilling past my lips. My hand instinctively goes to the spot hidden under my oversized hoodie.
The cashier catches my reaction and flashes me a friendly smile. “Must be an active little one in there, huh?”
“Uh, yeah,” I chuckle, unable to hide my nerves. There’s a reason I’m wearing hoodies and sweaters bigger than I am. I want to avoid showing off my belly for as long as possible. I don’t need Lars to find me out. Finding us out. “A future soccer player, I guess.”
The cashier chuckles as she puts my meager items in a single bag. I glance at the total on the register, and my heart sinks.
I’m a few cents short.
With my savings drying up, I withdrew some money several days ago. I might be overreacting, but Lars always “knew someone”. What if he could track me with my credit card?
With my card stashed in my backpack back at the hotel, I’m screwed. I start to panic, thinking of what I can put back. Maybe I can live only off just rice for a couple of days. Maybe there’s a dollar lost somewhere in my things.
The cashier sees right through me. She hands me the bag.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” she says with a sweet smile. “Pay what you can. I’ll cover the difference. Just promise me you’ll take care of that baby, okay?”
My eyes sting with unshed tears. I can’t deny that embarrassment makes my cheeks burn, but genuine gratitude warms my chest. That’s something you don’t see in big cities. Nobody cares there.
“Thank you so much.” I stroke my belly. “I promise I will.”
That small act of kindness feels like a ray of sunshine breaking through the dark clouds that have been following me since leaving my old life behind.
Well. Following me since the first “accident”. Since everything changed.
As I head back to my temporary refuge, I pass a window display, glimpsing my reflection. My blond hair is pulled back into a messy bun, dirty and dull, but my green eyes shine back at me. I smile at the reflection. The large hoodie I’m wearing conceals my growing belly for now, but it’s only a matter of time before I won’t be able to hide it anymore.
I’ve always been a curvy girl, but there’s only so much baggy clothes can disguise.
I wish I didn’t have to hide, or to escape. All I want is a safe place to raise my child. If Lars were a decent person, we’d have money to provide for our baby and to live well.
But he’s far from good—he’s the reason I’m on the run.
I shake my head, expelling Lars from my thoughts. There’s no use lingering on those dark memories. They bring me nothing good. Lars belongs to the past, and soon I won’t even remember him. I lift my eyes and focus on the goldens and browns around me.
Aspen Glen has been a breath of fresh air since my arrival. It’s a charming small town with cobblestone streets and mountain views that feel like I’ve stepped into a fairy tale. The aspen grove surrounding the town creates a sense of serenity I haven’t felt in years.
The trees are a perfect yellow against the blue sky, and the chilly breeze kissing my cheeks helps me forget the problems. It’s almost like I’m on vacation. A little solo trip before I become a mother.
I search for my phone in my back pocket. There’s no internet, of course, so I’m sure Lars is not tracking me. It’s nothing more than a small camera now, and sometimes I use it to check the maps.
I pick it up and snap a picture of a vibrant red tree, a rusty color so different from the others. The beauty of this place is indescribable. I’ve been here for two days, and it still steals my breath away. Turning, I snap another picture.
The twist of my hips shoots an ache through my lower back, making me wince. And I can’t stop the images flooding my mind. The pain brings back memories.
Memories of pain. Memories I’ve been trying to ignore.
It’s hard when angry purple covers my side, proof of our latest “accident”. The latest and hopefully last time Lars touched me.
Once more, I shake my head, dispelling the thoughts. It’s a struggle, but I put a smile back on my face.
As I continue walking down the sidewalk, the tranquil atmosphere of Aspen Glen soothes my frayed nerves. This town feels like it could be my sanctuary, a place where I can start anew.
A place where my baby can grow up safe and happy.
The smell of bacon hits me like a slap, and saliva floods my mouth. I follow the scent of food like a bloodhound, my stomach grumbling in protest as I pass tempting restaurant after tempting restau
My meager budget doesn’t allow for dining out, but it doesn’t stop me from hungrily eyeing the plates of steaming hot dishes through the windows. A pang of longing hits me, but I shake it off, determined to make the best of my situation.
Aspen Glen’s charm has sunk its teeth into me, and I’m hell-bent on staying here, even if it means living off rice and sardines for a while. But soon, I’ll have a baby, and I’ll need loads and loads of diapers.
I need a job.
Pausing in front of a diner’s windows, I gaze at the patrons coming and going. It dawns on me.
“Waitressing,” I whisper to myself. It’s perfect. I can blend in, keep an ear to the ground, and earn enough cash to keep this baby fed and safe.
I inhale, then slowly exhale. A smile stretches my lips as I pump myself up. That’s it. I can do this.
As I step inside, the warm aroma of coffee and bacon greets me like an old friend. The place is buzzing with chatter, laughter, and the clatter of forks hitting plates. I don’t have the time to study the decor when a waitress rushes toward me.
“Excuse me,” I say as she waltzes past with a tray of steaming dishes. “Could you tell me where I might find the manager? I’d like to apply for a job.”
“Sure thing, hon,” she replies, a lady in her sixties with bright red lips and colorful glasses. “Just take a seat at the counter, and I’ll send her over.”
“Thank you,” I say, my voice wavering just a tad. I slip onto a stool at the counter, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. My hand drifts to my belly, seeking comfort from the tiny life growing inside me.
I know I’m risking everything by trying to build a new life here, but it’s a risk I have to take. For my child’s sake and my own. I’ve spent too long hiding in the shadows, letting fear control me.
And Aspen Glen is where I’ll make my stand.
HUNTER
The sun beats down on my neck, sweat trickling under my collar as I aim. It’s unusually hot for October. The gun’s metal grip is cool against my palm, a sharp contrast to the sweltering day.
I exhale, feeling the tension in my shoulders release as I squeeze the trigger. Another gunshot pierces the air, and the target flutters, punctured by yet another perfect shot.
A rush of pride washes over me. My lips tilt, the closer I get to a smile these days.
My shoulders relax as I step away and reload. The smell of gunpowder is oddly comforting—a familiar embrace.
The shooting range is the one place I don’t feel judged. It’s the one place I can be myself.
I line up my next shot, focusing on the black bullseye staring back at me from across the range when my phone buzzes in my back pocket.
My muscles tense, and my brain focuses on immediately picking up the phone. It takes physical effort to stop myself. I don’t need to do that anymore. There’s no need to hurry to the phone, expecting to be called to duty.
I lower my weapon, curiosity piqued. No one calls me these days. Who the hell would call me now?
The phone goes quiet. The breeze kisses the sweat off my nape. I put the gun away and turn toward the house, leaving behind the scent of expended rounds.
Up the short track, the trees open into the place I call home. It’s a big house for a man living on his own, with no intention of changing that. It’s nestled on the edge of town, amid the trees—my fortress, my sanctuary.
Climbing the back steps, I glance out at the view from the porch. The treetops stretch out as far as the eye can see, like a sea of green and golden waves crashing against the sky. I never use the space. It always feels like something is missing.
The phone buzzes again as I open the door to the kitchen. I pick it up.
“Hunter.” The military greeting hasn’t worn off. I don’t think it ever will.
“Hunter! It’s Simon!” His voice is as warm and familiar as ever, a welcome surprise. “Haven’t you saved my number yet?”
“Not really. People rarely call me anymore. I saw no need,” I tell him as I grab a glass and fill it with water. “How are you doing? You need something?”
Simon’s a good guy. We’ve been friends for years and years, ever since we were first approved for SEAL training. But after we left? I can’t seem to face him. I’m not able to face any of them.
Simon clucks his tongue. “Friends call to check on each other, you know? I don’t need to ask for anything.”
“True.” A twinge of disappointment reminds me I haven’t been useful in a while. I haven’t made peace with what I’ve done to Simon and the others. I take a sip of cool water, my gaze lost in the trees outside my kitchen window. “So, how are you?”
“Busy, with the wedding coming up. But this isn’t about me. Listen, man, I’ve been worried about you. You up there in that big house all by yourself... You don’t even have a dog or anything.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself.”
“I’m well aware.” Simon chuckles. “Just saying. Humans aren’t meant to be alone. You don’t have to be.”
This again. “Just been taking some time to figure things out,” I say, trying to downplay my loneliness. I don’t want Simon worrying about me.
The truth is, I am lonely. There’s a deep ache in my chest when I think about it. The sheer silence of lying in bed awake in the middle of the night by yourself. The pain of knowing you will live out your days alone.
I am lonely, but there’s no changing that. There’s no way I would ever force anyone to live with a man like me. No woman should go through that.
“Sure,” Simon stretches the first syllable. “Well, I, for one, don’t want to end up a spinster, so I’m getting married. You coming, right?”
“Of course. I have the suit and everything.”
“Great. Just checking if you remember. Checking if you’re alright. Oh, bring your girlfriend. You said she’s new, but you’ve already RSVP’d her, so you’ve got no choice.” I can hear the grin in his voice. He gives me no time to reply. “Shannon and I will judge if she deserves you, and if she does, I expect a proposal before Christmas.”
“Uh...” Shit.
“Does she know she’s coming? You know girls need some time to choose a dress and everything.”
“Sure. Yeah,” I hesitate, cornered. “She’s great. I don’t know about any proposals, but it’s about time I introduced her to everyone, I guess.”
Shit. I knew this story would come back to haunt me.
Simon was over-worrying about me living alone with guilt as my only company. On a whim, I told him I had found a girlfriend.
And then I might have agreed to introduce her to our SEAL friends at Simon’s wedding.
And now I’m fucked.
Simon is a good friend. He’s just worried. It’s easier to tell him I broke up with my imaginary girlfriend when I go to the wedding. Of course, that’ll be shitty, since they’ll have taken her into consideration for food and everything...
Simon laughs. “I’m happy to hear that, man. Can’t wait to meet her.” Simon sounds excited, and I feel a twinge of guilt for lying to him.
“Great, we’ll see you at the wedding,” I say, new guilt adding to the usual.
“Take care, Hunter. Looking forward to catching up soon.”
“Same here, man. Talk soon.” I hang up and let out a long sigh. What the hell am I going to do now?
My entire life, all I wanted was to fulfill my duty to my country. That’s what I was taught. Do what I’m good at and keep people safe with my skills. I worked hard for that.
And then I failed. I failed my country, my superiors, my friends.
And all I hoped for was solitude in the aftermath.
