The mountain man’s midnight vow, chapter 1

Carlie

If things had gone according to plan, I’d have already picked up my rental car at the tiny counter in this no-name regional airport in Virginia’s Shenandoah Mountains. Instead, I’m sitting on a bench, tapping my phone and fighting panic.

I have three things going on: the B&B canceled my reservation, which I get because they’re brand new and things go wrong. The travel article I'm working on involves discovering the next must-see vacation getaway, hence booking a brand-new B&B. The second thing is that the small airport waiting room closes in an hour, and the third is that every other B&B is booked because of the wine festival happening this weekend. There are always job hazards when you try to eke out a living as a freelance writer. And by eke, I mean struggle to get by most of the time. That's an entirely different story. I rake my fingers through my hair, always an unruly mass of brown curls, wishing for a hair tie. I dig in my purse, and of course I can’t find one.

I'm not exactly stranded. In a perfect world, I’ll pick up my rental car, drive away from the wine festival area, and book a room at a Holiday Inn. I dial my editor instead because Holiday Inn isn’t quite what she has in mind for my article. The call goes to voicemail.

“Hey, it’s Carlie. That B&B canceled my reservation out of the blue and everything else around the airport is booked. I’m gonna check out some local accommodations and see what else I can come up with. I’ll be in touch with the draft. Have a good weekend, talk soon.”

I scroll through Airbnb’s Instant Book options, looking for anything else that will work as a replacement. If I can get settled tonight, I’ll have a glass of wine, regroup, and figure out another angle to write about. At this point, I'm beyond ready to click a button, get my check-in information, and head there, wherever “there” might be.

One cabin pops up as available. I tap the photo. My stomach flutters when the listing loads. The cabin is storybook rustic, with two rocking chairs on the wraparound porch. The listing must be brand new because it has no reviews. Otherwise, it's perfect. I tap Book Now without looking at the rest of the photos. A moment later, the app chimes with my confirmation.

I must’ve squealed out loud because, just then, the rental car clerk clears his throat. I look up. The lights in the larger airport waiting area have been turned off. We’re the only two left inside. He probably wants to get me out of there so he can go home as much as I want to get on the road.

“Sorry, I had a hitch in my travel plans,” I say, and head to the desk.

The clerk ogles my breasts as I walk toward him. This time, it's my turn to clear my throat. I hand him my ID and tap my credit card on the reader.

He pecks on a keyboard. Moments later, he slides my ID across the desk. “I hope that hitch turns into a smooth ride soon,” he says, handing me the rental car key.

The setting sun behind us shows the beautiful blue of a midsummer golden hour. The sky above the mountains appears dark with storm clouds. Wonderful. My drive to the cabin will take me straight into the mountains. I remember something from school about mountain weather where one side might get rain while the other side stays dry.

“Please stay dry,” I say aloud to nobody as I pull my roller suitcase through the parking lot with one hand. With the other, I click the car’s remote lock button and follow the sound of the honking horn until I see flashing tail lights.

The cabin is almost an hour from the airport. That’s how rural it is here. However, it will give me time to come up with an angle on how to make the Airbnb listing as appealing as a new mountain B&B. My editor will be happy. I’ll meet my deadline. Everything will be fine.

The mountain roads are narrow and forested. I take my foot off the gas on the turns. Few of the roads have yellow lines painted down the middle, like you’d have to veer far over when passing other vehicles, and hope they also veer over for you. I forget about the weather until the road opens into farmland and I see the looming, gray storm clouds. The GPS says I'm twenty miles away. This part of the road is flat and straight, almost a postcard with fields, cows, and white, wooden fences.

I press the gas, needing to beat the storm. The land grows more forested and the road narrows as I enter the mountains again. The GPS announces a turn in one thousand feet. I ease my foot onto the brake as a mailbox comes into view. I turn the rental car onto a narrow gravel road and continue through the trees.

The GPS’s cheery voice calls out, “You have arrived,” but there's nothing but forest on either side. I press the gas. No way am I going to get stuck out here in the middle of nowhere. If there's a mailbox, there must be a cabin around here somewhere.

Finally, the cabin appears, and I park my car in front of it. Lights are on inside. A large shadow moves behind the curtains. A big pickup truck sits parked next to a detached garage. My heart sinks. Someone is here.

In my haste to find somewhere to stay, I realize I’ve accidentally booked a room instead of an entire home. Of course, because today isn’t my day, I’ll have to share the cabin I'm supposed to be reviewing with God knows who.

Just then, a few fat raindrops hit the windshield. Slipping my bag over my shoulder, I slam the door, pull my suitcase from the trunk, and run across the gravel drive. The sky opens up just as I make it onto the wooden porch steps. A moment longer, and I’d have been soaked to the skin. The cabin’s door opens as I'm gathering my bags around me. I almost drop my phone.

The man standing in the doorway is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. He's a full head taller than me, with dark-brown hair and a trimmed beard. I stand at eye level with his heavily muscled chest that shows through his tight black t-shirt. This is the guy I'm supposed to share a cabin with? How will I get any writing done?

We stand without speaking for a moment. His tight jeans hug his muscled thighs and bulge in exactly the right place. His feet are bare with evenly clipped toenails. I have an image of those bare feet finding mine beneath the covers. My chest flushes with heat that I ignore because he’s got his eyes locked on me as if he’s going to run me off into the storm or devour me.

The Mountain Man’s Midnight Vow releases on July 11, 2025.