Order Up, page 1
Order Up: Love
MOUNTAIN MEN OF CARIBOU CREEK BOOK 4
KALI HART
Order Up: Love is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 by Kali Hart
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the author/publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
1. Willow
2. Mason
3. Willow
4. Mason
5. Willow
6. Mason
7. Willow
8. Mason
9. Willow
10. Mason
11. Willow
12. Mason
13. Willow
14. Mason
15. Willow
16. Mason
17. Willow
18. Mason
Epilogue
Other Books by Kali Hart
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
Willow
The broken wheel of my suitcase catches on the pavement, skidding along the sidewalk as if it has a mind of its own. Drawing all kinds of attention I don’t want. Sympathetic looks. Annoyed scowls. Dismissive smirks. I want to yell at all of them. Not like I’m happy to be back in Alaska!
At least, not under such shitty circumstances.
As the airport shuttle drives off, I yank open the door to the smaller, private airport on the edge of Anchorage and drag my bag inside. The woman behind the front counter offers me a disgruntled expression for my troubles. I ignore it. If my snobby roommates hadn’t kicked me out, I wouldn’t be toting everything I own in one suitcase that’s obviously buckled under the weight. As it is, I had to max out my credit card just to get the airline to transport the damn thing.
“Can I help you?” The woman’s voice is nasally, her smile forced, as the door closes behind me.
“I have a reservation.” Once I get my bag situated by a set of empty chairs, I dig my phone out and approach the counter. “A flight to Caribou Creek.”
My hometown doesn’t have an airport. Only an airstrip for bush planes. But this private flight was faster—and cheaper—than renting a car and driving north.
“Name?”
“Willow Gray.” As I’m searching my email for a reservation number, a call comes in. My heart beats rapidly at Claudia Morrison’s name. I’ve been waiting to hear from her for weeks. Hoping for a role—any role—to reassure me that my acting career isn’t dead and buried. “Sorry, I have to take this,” I say in apology, ignoring the unappreciative scowl and handing over my credit card. “It’s my agent.”
I step away from the counter and into a quiet corner of the dinky airport before answering. Still, three sets of eyes keep flickering to me. Probably because I look all LA and out of place.
“Claudia, hi! Do you have good—”
“I’m dropping you.”
“Uh, what’s that?” My heart thunders in my ears, certain I’ve heard her wrong. Yes, I’ve flopped most of my auditions lately. The last acting job I had was a commercial for hemorrhoid cream—I had rent to pay. I’m holding out hope that most of America doesn’t actually watch commercials anymore.
“I’m firing you as my client.”
“I know it’s been tough—”
“You’re a terrible actress, and I’m losing hours of my life I’ll never get back trying to find you work.” I’m too stunned to speak, so Claudia finishes with, “You’re missing that spark you had when you got here, kid. You might try losing a few pounds, too. Best of luck!”
I gasp as the line goes dead, but I can’t seem to pull my phone from my ear. I’m too stunned. I knew Claudia was getting annoyed. But she’s the reason I left Caribou Creek. That I ran out on my own wedding—
“Who you talking to?”
Every muscle in my body goes rigid. I know that voice. If I lived to be a hundred, I’ll never forget it. I’ve missed it more than I will ever admit. With a deep breath, I turn and face my past. “Mason, what are you doing here?”
“Working.”
Ignoring my pulse that’s shot off like a bottle rocket at the end of its fuse, I slip my phone back in my purse. My hands are so shaky I nearly drop it. If I’d never left, he’d be my husband now. “Picking up a group of hunters?” I look around the room for his likely passengers, mostly to avoid meeting those sea green eyes. But no one looks the part. “Or climbers?”
“Not today.”
My gaze cautiously flickers to his, and my knees buckle. I steady myself on the suitcase behind me. Any hopes that he didn’t notice are lost to that fucking smirk he flashes me. It’s as devilish I remember. And just as potent. That deadly smirk caused a lot of our fights back in the day. Not that I ever complained. We usually ended up naked by the end of them. “Then who?”
“You.”
I let out a laugh, certain he’s joking. Mason Reid flies tourists and avid hunters to remote locations. Dropping them off in the Alaskan wilderness. He swore he’d never become a taxi service. “No.”
Mason folds both arms over his chest, those damn biceps flexing. I grip my suitcase handle harder to keep myself from launching my body at his. I’m not surprised to realize that the fire still burns hot when it comes to my first and only love, but I’m also not about to let him know it. My leaving him at the altar aside, we have separate lives now. Mine is in LA His is in Caribou Creek. “Feel free to find another pilot.”
The woman behind the counter is practically undressing him with her eyes. She’s been listening to every word. But when her eyes flicker to me, her scowl returns. “There’s no other pilots available to make that trip today,” she says, sounding almost as disgruntled as she looks.
“I’m not getting on a plane with you.” Except, I don’t think I have a choice. Grandma Rose insisted it was urgent. A matter of life and death. I’d never forgive myself if I missed saying goodbye because I was too stubborn to travel with my ex. I’m not that cold hearted. Not to mention that the already strained relationship with my sisters would shatter completely if I didn’t make it in time.
“Planning to walk?”
I want to slap the smug expression right off his face. Or kiss it. Down, girl. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
“Don’t be so upset.” Mason slowly unwraps his arms and leans forward, his heat swirling around me like a warm blanket. His beard brushes my cheek as he leans close to my ear. He lowers his voice to practically a whisper. “The last time you were in my plane, you were calling out my name. Pretty enthusiastically if I recall.”
My neck and cheeks flush at the memory. The one thing we always got right was the sex. Fuck, it was incredible. But I’m not staying. Getting tangled up in the sheets with my ex is the worst thing I could do. It would only hurt both of us in the end. “Not happening.”
He winks at me, the bastard. “We’ll see about that.”
CHAPTER 2
Mason
I always knew Willow Gray would come back someday. But until I saw her name on the roster minutes before takeoff, I had no idea it would be this soon. I should hate her for what she did. Leaving me standing at the altar with a full church and no explanation. I found a note, hours after she’d already fled. A fucking note.
I should hate her.
Only, I’ve never stopped loving her. Never stopped believing she’d come back to me.
“What brings you home, Willow?”
She stares at me, indecision dancing in her brown eyes. She looks so damn sexy in that low-cut sunflower yellow top and a headset, sitting in the passenger seat where she belongs. “Grandma Rose.”
I don’t pay much attention to gossip—which Caribou Creek has plenty of—but I feel certain I would’ve heard something if Rose Clayton or her diner were in some sort of trouble. The restaurant is busier than ever, and she recently won a bridge jackpot—or poker. Depends who you ask.
I drop my gaze to Willow’s hand, yearning to take it in my own. Old habits and all that shit. “Everything okay?”
She lets out a heavy breath and folds her arms across her chest. Lifting those magnificent tits. I’ve missed having them in my mouth. Not the time, Mason. “I don’t know.”
“If it helps, I haven’t heard anything.”
“And why would you?” she snaps.
“Because I didn’t run away from my hometown.” The words slip out before I can pull them back, but I stand firm by them. I’d wager I know more about her grandma than she does.
Willow lets out a slow sigh. Her shoulders visibly lifting and falling with the long exhale. “Fair point.” She untangles her arms and drops her hands to her knees. The red polish is chipped. The first indicator that everything is not bright and sunny in her dream life. “Look, Grandma Rose summoned me and my sisters back. Said it was a matter of life and death. All in a freaking text message.”
“I didn’t realize she knew how to text.”
“She doesn’t. Or she would’ve replied to the dozens of texts I sent her back.”
“Did you try calling—” Befo
“What’s wrong?” Willow demands, likely sensing my tension.
“I have to land.”
“What?” She lifts out of her seat as far as the belt will allow her and frantically peers out every window she can reach. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, Mason! You can’t land now. Aren’t we almost to town? Can’t you just take it slow?”
I start to descend as her panic heightens. I’m not going to risk meeting another aircraft I can’t see and taking us both out. Even if we make it to Caribou Creek, tower might not clear me for landing under these conditions. It’s far too dangerous.
“Mason, say something!”
“After we land.” Finding a strip of barren land, I ease my Cessna down. A sense of familiarity—and relief—washing over me as the wheels touch the soft earth. I know where we are. I’ve landed in this same place dozens of times when dropping off groups of fishermen.
When the plane fully stops, the fog is so dense I can barely see the nearby trees. I turn to face Willow and reach for her hand. She yanks it away as if I burned her skin. The contact, though quick, is enough to reassure me the sizzle of electricity is still strong as ever.
“What the hell, Mason? This is not the time for plane sex.”
I let out a low, deep chuckle. One that’s both automatic and on purpose. Because I know it’ll make those pretty little cheeks flush bright red. “In case you haven’t looked outside in the past few minutes, I can’t see shit. Grandma Rose will kill me if I risk your life. You know that.”
I grab the radio.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling the tower to get an updated weather report.” For the first time in my life, I forgot to check the weather before we took off. Willow Gray has rattled me that much. But I’m not about to let her know that. No way in hell am I letting her catch a glimpse of how much power she still holds over me.
Willow looks between me and the instrument panel as the tower in Caribou Creek gives the report. It’s obviously gibberish to her, but I take my sweet time letting Jimmy know we’re stranded for the night but safe, and slip the radio back in its hook before translating.
“Well?” she demands.
“The storm isn’t expected to let up until morning.”
“Come again?”
“We’re stranded tonight.”
CHAPTER 3
Willow
“Stranded?” Panic causes my heart to pound against my ribcage. I can’t be stranded with my ex in the Alaskan wilderness. All alone. This is so very, very bad.
Aside from needing to get back in case Grandma Rose decides to die on me, Mason is quicksand. My original plan to avoid him entirely while I snuck into town—which was the only way I knew I wouldn’t fall into the past—went up in smoke the moment I locked eyes with him. I have to tread carefully.
“There was a time you would’ve been excited about this scenario.” His eyes are molten, the desire undeniable. Which is all the more confusing. The man should hate me for what I did. I was the one who got to run away. He had to stay and face our small town and all the humiliation I no doubt caused him.
“Well, I’m not that girl anymore.”
He drags his gaze slowly over my body. I hate that it makes me shiver. That my nipples tingle until they harden into peaks. The urge to get out of the plane is overwhelming. The cabin is one tempting cloud of the cologne I bought him the last Christmas we were together. That he still wears it makes me want to forget reason and lose my clothes. “If you say so, city girl.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“You move out of LA already?”
“What? No.” That fucking grin is making my brain scramble. Wetness has pooled between my legs despite my best attempts to think of anything other than Mason plunging his massive cock into me. I’ve missed the electrifying sex. Hell, I’ve missed sex. But I’m not about to tell him I haven’t been with anyone else since I left. He was my first. My only. “What’s the plan, then? Sleep in the plane?”
“No.” He pushes open his door and jumps out. “Better grab what you need out of that body bag you packed.”
I unclip my seatbelt, scanning the wilderness around us. Or what little I can still see with the thick fog. A grizzly bear could be lurking twenty feet away and we’d be none the wiser. I can just see the tabloid headlines now. Washed-up Actress Willow Gray Mauled by a Grizzly Bear.
“You waiting for a limo or something?” Mason calls from outside.
I narrow my eyes at him, but he’s not looking. Jerk. I exit the plane and meet him at the back where he stored my suitcase. “Where are we going?”
“To find shelter.”
“But we have shelter.” I point to the plane.
He cages me in against it, towering over me. My already out-of-control pulse is off the charts now. He’s too close. It takes every ounce of restraint to keep my hands at my sides, because all they want to do is touch him. Everywhere. “Might be fun fucking in a plane, but it’s not built for a comfortable night’s sleep.”
His heated gaze drops to the low cut of my shirt, reminding me how expertly he used to suckle my nipples. “Mason—”
In a heartbeat, he’s several feet away. As if a gust of wind ripped him away. I remind myself that nothing can happen between us. Nothing should happen between us. As soon as Grandma Rose is either on the mend or over that rainbow bridge, I’m headed back to LA to pick up the pieces and rebuild my career. Hollywood isn’t for quitters. I’m determined to prove Claudia—and every failed audition—wrong.
Mason shrugs a backpack onto his shoulders. “Get what you need?” He nods at my suitcase.
I stare at it, afraid to unzip it. If I’m lucky and it doesn’t explode, it’ll be all too obvious to Mason that I’m homeless. But I can’t trek through the wilderness in stilettos. “Do you mind?”
Shaking his head, he turns away. “Didn’t think LA would make you shy, babe.”
I swallow the urge to tell him I haven’t been with anyone else, if only to kill the idea in his head that I was sleeping my way to the top or some shit like that. But it’s ammo I can’t give him. My resolve is already too weak. I shove a few things in a laundry bag, hoping it’ll suffice for whatever shelter we find out here. “I’m ready.”
He closes up the plane and kicks the blocks behind the tires to ensure they’re secure. “Let’s go.”
The fog is thicker. Drizzle dampens my face, no doubt smearing my makeup, as I push to keep up with Mason. The man is practically jogging. It’s pride that keeps me from yelling at him to slow down. Claudia’s nagging voice that suggests I need to lose weight. Bitch. If she had any idea how hard I’ve worked to shed the pounds I did… The thought dies. Claudia was possibly the nicest person I met in the city, but she wouldn’t have an ounce of compassion for the struggles I’ve been through. Or the ones I’ll be facing when I head back.
It makes me miss Caribou Creek. The small town is a gossip hub filled with people who are only too eager to offer their opinions. But every single person there would stop if you were stranded on the side of the road with a flat tire.
I shake away the uninvited thoughts. Moving home? Not an option. I don’t need to listen to all the gossip about how I came back a failure with my tail tucked between my legs. How it served me right for what I did to Mason. If I can keep my visit short, I can at least pretend I’m still successful. On the verge of a big role rather than tossed out with yesterday’s trash.
