Grumpy Hero (Curvy Cafe Book Club 7) Read online

  Grumpy Hero

  Curvy Cafe Book Club: Book 7

  Flora Madison

  Copyright © 2022 by Flora Madison

  All rights reserved.

  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.

  Edited by Geeky Girl Author Services

  Cover Design by Cormar Covers

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  What to Read Next …

  Chapter One

  Vanessa

  The first thought that flies through my head as I pull in front of the rental cabin is that cannot be the owner. The tall, broad hunk of a man wears a buffalo plaid flannel rolled up to his elbows, his thick, dark hair apparently still wet. Not as wet as me, I think, putting my car in park and swallowing back the tiniest hint of nerves working their way through my gut.

  Before I can think twice, I throw open my car door and head in his direction. He’s even bigger the closer I get, eyes a striking shade of light brown. My mouth stretches into a smile, but the man doesn’t return the gesture. In fact, he could very well be sleeping with his eyes open; he’s so stoic.

  “Brax Rowan?” I ask, shielding the sun from my eyes.

  “You must be Vanessa.” He clenches his strong jaw, lightly dusted with stubble.

  “That’s me,” I say, trying to keep it light.

  “You’re early.”

  “Oh.” My phone proves him right, but only by about five minutes. “Is that a problem?”

  He shrugs his massive shoulders. “No. It’s fine.”

  “Good. I don’t want to piss you off the first time we meet. You are my landlord for the next month.” His eyes dance up and down my body. Even though I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt, it’s like he’s looking right through me. My nipples stiffen at the thought of this gorgeous man seeing me naked.

  “You’re a city girl.”

  “City woman.” I correct him, hoping to jostle him out of his broody state. I swear his eyebrows must be permanently furrowed. “But you’re right. I live in the city.”

  “What made you stay out here for a month?”

  “I recently bought a house, a fixer-upper, and it’s being renovated. I can’t stay there without a kitchen or a bathroom.”

  “But why here?”

  This doesn’t feel like a typical get-to-know-you conversation, and I suppose it isn’t. He is renting his place to me. Although, he should’ve gone through all of this questioning before he agreed to give me the cabin if there was going to be a problem.

  “I needed a place to relax, and I thought staying out in the mountains would be good for my art.”

  “You’re an artist? What kind?”

  Heat prickles at my cheeks. I hate talking about my work. Hell, I shouldn’t have even brought it up. When people ask about it, it’s like I’m taking some of the magic away from it by having to describe it. I’ve found that minimizing my projects always helps.

  “I just paint a little.” I brush a stray strand of black hair away from my cheek. Brax’s glowing eyes dance up and down my body once more. This time, a ferocity hides behind his glance. My panties drench on the spot, thinking of what it would feel like to wrap my legs around his tree trunk waist.

  Brax doesn’t answer, and instead he gives a curt nod before turning on his heels and heading up the front steps. For a moment, I just stand there, wondering if I’m supposed to follow him. His destroyed jeans hang on him perfectly, showcasing his incredible round ass. He opens the front door and steps inside without another word. I wipe the sweat from my upper lip and follow him.

  Get it together. He’s just a grumpy recluse. A hot grumpy recluse…

  Once I’ve crossed the threshold, I’m pleasantly surprised by the cabin’s quaintness. Clean as a whistle and decorated in a minimalist, antique style, it’s the perfect size for my needs, including an adorable screened-in porch running along a babbling brook in the back. The large windows let in a massive amount of sunlight, and I can’t help but notice the fancy coffee machine on the kitchen counter. I exhale in relief; it looks just like the Airbnb listing, except for one thing, the gorgeous farmhouse table in the dining nook.

  “Oh wow.” I run my finger along the table’s smooth top. “This is stunning. Is it custom-made? Who’s the designer? Something like this would be perfect in my new dining room.” When I turn my head in Brax’s direction, his eyes flicker up from my ass, but not fast enough.

  Busted!

  He clears his throat, then purses his full lips together. “I made it. I made all of the wooden furniture here.”

  A gasp escapes my lips. “It’s beautiful. Maybe I can commission you for some pieces?”

  “I don’t do commissions. It’s just a hobby.” He shakes his head and quickly strides toward me. It happens so quickly that I instinctively flinch. He’s massive, so much taller and wider than me. I’m not a petite woman, but he makes me feel like a delicate rose. He holds out his hand, and our fingers brush when he hands me the keys. “If you need anything.” His low, gravelly voice sends chills down my spine. “My cabin’s down the path.” He tilts his head toward the window, and a wave of dark hair falls over one eye. My panties melt on the spot. “But try not to need anything if you can help it. I don’t like to be disturbed.”

  I recoil. The floor shakes slightly beneath him as he hulks back toward the front door, leaving me in shock. What the hell’s this guy’s damage?

  “Are you always this pleasant?” I tease. The words come out before I can stop them, a horrible habit of mine. He turns back toward me slowly, with a look on his face that makes me wish I would’ve kept my mouth shut.

  “No,” he says, his nostrils flared. “Sometimes I’m in a bad mood.” Without another word, he’s out the door.

  “Hey,” I call, rushing after him. He keeps walking, but I stop on the porch. “Have I done something to offend you?”

  “I don’t get offended.” He calls over his shoulder, leaves crunching beneath his boots with each step. “I just like to keep to myself.”

  Never in my life have I been left so baffled by a simple interaction. On the one hand, I want to slap that stoic look right off his face. On the other, I want to grip him by the front of his shirt and slam him into the wall before pressing up against him, letting him take whatever anger he’s hiding out on me in the bedroom.

  Talk about conflicted.

  Chapter Two

  Brax

  The first time I rent out my renovated guest cabin, a woman like Vanessa Paul shows up on my doorstep. Dammit, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. She probably thinks I’m a creep, but with a body like hers, I couldn’t help but stare.

  My dog, Manning, tackles me the minute I get home. I’ve tried to train him not to jump, but he’s a stray, a former troubled dog, and while I’ve broken all of his other bad habits, this one remains. You can’t win ’em all. I give him a gruff pet behind his ears before filling his bowl. Food always calms him down. I grab myself a second cup of coffee and head out to my back porch for a bit before I start on my woodworking today.

  Vanessa’s high cheekbones and hazel-green eyes won’t leave my thoughts. I don’t get any company out here, let alone beautiful women like her. But she’s a city girl—woman and probably thinks I’m nothing but a hillbilly living out here in the woods all alone. I let out a long exhale. Mayb
e it’s better she thinks I’m a hillbilly than realize what I really am.

  I finish my mug and head out into the barn to get a little work done on the new countertop I plan on installing in the little guest cabin. I never would’ve suspected to find myself fixing up my family’s land like this, but it beats the hell out of going into the city and getting a stuffy job. The rent is expected to pay for my living expenses and then some. It’s crazy how much folks’ll pay to stay in the mountains for a few nights…and thank God.

  Eventually, I fall into the rhythm of my work. Nothing takes my mind off of my problems like transforming a simple piece of wood into a work of art. Time flies, and the sun’s setting behind the tall trees beyond the lake before I know it. That signals quitting time. I’d like to say Vanessa completely left my thoughts, but I’d be lying. Just knowing the voluptuous painter is a few yards away is torture.

  I make myself a little dinner—some for Manning, too. No sooner than I’ve sat down at the table when a rumble of thunder sounds in the distance. Manning lets out a little yelp and hides under my chair. For being a big dog, he’s equally as big of a baby. The rain arrives as soon as I reach down to give him a scratch.

  “Nothing to be scared of, buddy.” A yawn escapes my mouth. “Rain is nature’s way of telling us to relax.” No sooner have the words left my mouth than my cell phone buzzes. I pull it out of my pocket and squint at the screen, not recognizing the number.

  SORRY TO DISTURB YOU, BUT I THINK THE ROOF IS LEAKING.

  It takes a second before I realize that it must be from Vanessa. Dammit. I thought I’d fixed that. Hell, maybe she’s wrong. Maybe it’s just a little condensation. I lick my lips and type back:

  YOU THINK THE ROOF IS LEAKING? OR IS IT LEAKING?

  The reply comes instantly.

  IT’S DEFINITELY LEAKING.

  I run a hand through my hair, knowing damn good and well I’ll have to go over there and do something about it.

  NOT MUCH I CAN DO. BUCKET’S IN THE HALL CLOSET.

  My heart rate picks up in my chest. The less interaction I have with Vanessa, the better. I’m attracted to her like none other. It’s been years since I’ve been with a woman, and I’d tear that sweet little woman apart. My cock hardens just thinking of all of the things I’d like to do to her. I have to think about football just to get myself calm again.

  Three dots appear, signaling that she’s typing a response.

  BUCKET NOT IN THE CLOSET. IT’S REALLY COMING DOWN HARD.

  I head to the closet and grab my rain jacket and boots. Manning’s tail nearly wags right off, thinking we’re about to go outside. The dog has short-term memory issues, I swear. He was just crying because of the rain; now he wants out in it.

  “Sorry, bud.” I lace up my boots and pull up my hood. “I’m going on this mission alone.” Before he has a chance to whine—a noise that actually breaks my heart, I hate to admit—I grab my keys and head out the front door.

  It seems silly to drive such a short distance, but the rain’s really coming down. As soon as I pull up in front of the guest cabin, I spot Vanessa’s silhouette in the front window, waiting for me.

  A vision comes crashing down before my eyes, Vanessa waiting inside, a hot meal on the stove, and a baby on her hip. I shake the thought away as quickly as it arrived. That’s some crazy shit to think. There’s no way she’d make an honest man out of me. I certainly don’t deserve it.

  Vanessa holds the front door open for me the second my car door opens. A flash of lightning ignites the sky as I quickly move toward the porch. “I’m sorry to bug you,” she shouts over the rain. “But it’s pretty bad.”

  Surely, it can’t be that bad. She’s probably used to everything tightly sealed with no bugs and no critters. It’s not like that out in the woods. We’re invading nature and not the other way around. She holds the door wide for me, and I take in her vanilla and amber scent as I walk by. Nothing’s ever smelled so sweet.

  It takes a second for me to register what I’m looking at, but when I do, my mouth falls open. Above the sofa, it looks like a waterfall is pouring in. My head snaps in Vanessa’s direction. “A leak? This is a monsoon.”

  “I told you!” She throws her arms out.

  “You said you thought there was a leak.” I gesture widely. “This? This is definitely a leak!”

  “I’m sorry. You were pretty adamant about not wanting to be disturbed.” I open my mouth to retort when a noise from overhead pulls my attention. We both turn in time to witness an entire section of the roof crash down on top of the sofa.

  Chapter Three

  Vanessa

  I’m trying not to freak out as I gather my suitcase and favorite cozy blanket. Of course, I choose the wrong place to stay. I should’ve known immediately after meeting the brooding owner of the cabin that this was the wrong choice. Brax said, himself, that I’m a city girl. He’s right. I’m probably not cut out for life out in the woods, even if it’s only for a month.

  A gentle wrap at the bedroom door turns my head. Brax stands in the doorway. His soaked raincoat sends drips of water to the floor. For the first time, I notice his expression isn’t completely stone-cold. “I’m almost done,” I say, wondering where the hell I’m going to stay tonight as I zip my suitcase that, mere hours ago, I just unpacked. Looks like it’s going to be hotel city.

  “I just wanted to see if you needed any help.”

  “I’m good,” I say, trying hard not to cry over my shitty luck. I silently thank myself for not unpacking my easel this evening. It would’ve been straight in harm’s way. To think I felt guilty about not immediately painting after I settled in. Sometimes, the universe can be quite kind.

  The wheels of my suitcase hit the hardwood with a thud, and I roll it past Brax, who smells like an intoxicating combination of natural man musk and something crisp and clean. A wave of heat rushes straight to my core, primal, unstoppable. How can someone so moody, and not even nice, turn me on so much? I guess it’s the old adage of wanting what you don’t have.

  And will never have, Ness. Keep on moving…

  I’m nearly out the door when Brax’s deep voice stops me. “Where are you going to go?”

  I turn to face him. The front of his hair is damp. A tiny raindrop falls down his cheek. He’s so fucking sexy. “A hotel, I guess.” I don’t tell him that I haven’t allotted that much money in my budget. It’s not his problem, after all.

  “I can give you your deposit back,” he says, and I nod. I don’t know what I was expecting. Hell, I shouldn’t expect anything. Not from him. He’s practically a stranger.

  A sad smile plays on my lips. Pressure builds in my chest, a sunken disappointment. For what, I’m not sure. All I know is that I have to get out of here. “Well, it was nice meeting you.” The thunder booms outside the open front door. “I have a feeling I would’ve really enjoyed my time here.” I hold his golden gaze for a brief moment before turning toward the front door.

  “Wait.” I freeze, unable to speak. Something sizzles between us, unspoken yet tangible. “It’s late.” He takes a step toward me, and my body betrays me, knees threatening to buckle, mouth drying up like the Sahara. His lips, so full, so kissable, are the most beautiful shade of red I’ve ever seen—juicy, like forbidden fruit. “Stay with me tonight.”

  I can’t believe my ears. We all have fantasies, and I’d be lying if I didn’t have a passing thought of him asking me to stay with him. I never…never, thought it would come to fruition. “I can’t,” I say because that’s what I have to say. “I don’t want to put you out.”

  He takes one step closer, closing the gap between us. “Vanessa, stay.” The timbre of his voice sends chills up and down my arms. “I insist. This is on me. You shouldn’t have to find a hotel because of this. Let me make it up to you.”

  Every bone in my body is screaming at me, begging me to toss my hair over my shoulder and agree to his demand. But my brain keeps reminding me that this is a man with some sort of internal damage,
that history is the greatest teacher, and I’ve been in situations like this before and gotten my heart shattered. But we all know what happens when head and heart find themselves at odds.

  “Thank you,” I say and suck my bottom lip between my teeth. The subtle tension tightening Brax’s face releases. In fact, he almost…almost, smiles.

  His massive hand brushes against mine when he grabs my suitcase handle, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm. I try to ignore the feeling, but it’s too late. Dizziness floods my vision, and I wish to God I had more fucking self-control. I usually do, but there’s something about Brax that sends every nerve ending in my body into overdrive.

  We step onto the porch as the rain pours around us. Brax locks the door and then turns to meet my gaze. I’m amazed at how familiar this stranger’s essence feels to me, but I know I’ve never met him. I sure as hell would’ve remembered it.

  “We run on three.” His words surprise me.

  “Run?”

  “Unless you want to get soaked?” He licks his ridiculously kissable lips and turns toward his truck. At least he drove over here. I’d look like a drowned rat by the time we made it back to his place if we were on foot.

  “Definitely not.”

  “Okay then.” He releases the travel handle on my bag and lifts it by its handle with ease, like it weighs nothing. “I’ve got your bag. Just get yourself to the truck.”

  Something tells me that he’s enjoying how uncomfortable the thought of running makes me feel. Running in front of people—especially smoking hot mountain men—isn’t one of my favorite pastimes.