Contents

  Desired by the Off-Limits Mountain Man

  Copyright

  Desired by the Off-Limits Mountain Man

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Epilogue

  Author’s note and free book

  Desired by the Off-Limits Mountain Man

  Lumberjacks of Timber Peak Valley #4

  By Hazel J. North

  Copyright

  © Desired by the Off-Limits Mountain Man by Hazel J. North

  2025

  All Rights Reserved

  * * *

  This 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.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Desired by the Off-Limits Mountain Man

  She remembers the boy I used to be. She’s about to meet the man who’ll claim and ruin her for anyone else.

  Archer

  I like my life quiet and predictable. Work in the lumber yard, cool beer after, solo hikes on the weekends.

  Then Fern moves back to Timber Peak Valley to run a new yoga studio. She’s all grown-up, with curves that make my blood burn and a smile that rattles me to my core. The moment our eyes meet, I know I’m done for.

  Too bad Fern is off-limits. She’s my sister’s best friend, so I tell myself to walk away. But I’ve never cared much for rules.

  I want every smile, every gasp, every sweet sound I know she’ll make once I have her in my arms. I’ll fight for her, even if it means breaking every rule in the book.

  Because the only future I want is the one where she’s mine—every delicious, forbidden inch of her.

  Desired by the Off-Limits Mountain Man is a short and steamy instalove romance with OTT vibes, set in the small mountain town of Timber Peak Valley and featuring a protective lumberjack. No cheating and no cliffhangers, just a guaranteed and hot HEA with a mountain man who’ll do anything for the woman he loves. This one is meant to be read in one hour or less.

  Chapter One

  Archer

  I hunch over the sink, my hands greasy as I try to fix the damn pipe for the third time this week. I hate plumbing, especially on my day off. I’d prefer loading lumber in the scorching sun at the yard over dealing with this leaking pipe.

  I wrench it tight while I curse under my breath. It should be an easy fix, but the thing won’t stop leaking no matter what I do. The sound of water splashing against the bottom of the cabinet makes me grit my teeth.

  My sister Callie sits at the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and flipping through a stack of papers.

  “So, you’re really going through with it, huh?” I ask, trying to distract myself.

  “Yeah,” she replies, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “I’m going to turn Aunt Mae’s cabin into Camp Evergreen.”

  I grunt, tightening the wrench. “You sure about it?”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a lot of money and time to sink into a dream. And with kids nowadays…” I trail off.

  It’s not that I don’t believe in my little sister. It’s that I’ve seen her face setbacks before. I’m protective of her, and the last thing I want is for this to backfire and make things worse. It sure sounds like a noble initiative. Camp Evergreen will be a summer camp for kids who’ve never seen the woods except through a screen. Getting kids out in nature sure is a win in my book. But I’m not sure my sister realizes what she’s getting into.

  Callie scoffs, setting her coffee mug down. “You’re not going to be one of those people who say ‘kids these days,’ are you? It makes you sound like an old, bitter man. And it’s condescending.”

  I shrug. “I’m just saying it’s risky. You’re banking everything on a bunch of city kids wanting to rough it in the woods. And that’s before you even get to the part where they probably won’t listen to you.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “I’ll manage. It’ll be fine. Besides, if I don’t do it now, I’ll never do it. I don’t want to spend my life living with regrets, you know?”

  I focus my attention on the damn pipe. “Well, you’ve always been stubborn. If anyone can make it work, it’s you. Just don’t get too wrapped up in it, okay? I don’t want to see you lose everything over a gamble.”

  Before I can say anything else, there’s a sudden pop, and the pipe bursts in front of me. Water sprays everywhere. I jerk back, swearing loudly, and try to shut off the flow, but it’s too late. Water pools around my feet, soaking my boots.

  “Fucking hell,” I mutter.

  Callie lets out a laugh that vanishes the second she sees my glare. “Sorry,” she says, not looking sorry at all. “Need a hand?”

  “Just grab some towels,” I growl, splashing through the growing puddle toward the basement door. The wooden steps creak as I descend into the dim space. I find the main shutoff valve and twist it hard, silencing the rush of water upstairs.

  When I make it back to the kitchen, my sister is on her knees, mopping up the mess with every dish towel I own.

  “Thanks, Callie. This changes nothing about what I said, though,” I tell her, grabbing more towels from the linen closet. “Running a summer camp is still a risk.”

  “So is owning a house with ancient plumbing,” she shoots back, wringing water into a bucket. “Yet here you are.”

  I snort. “Touché.”

  “Besides,” she continues, “I already started renovating Aunt Mae’s lake cabin. The tents for the backyard arrive next week, and I’ve got five families already signed up.”

  “Really? That sounds promising.”

  “Oh, sweet brother of mine. When are you going to get it through your thick skull that I’m a grown woman? I can take care of myself. Don’t sound so surprised when I accomplish something.”

  “You’re twenty-three, Callie. I worry.”

  She lets out an annoyed sigh. “Don’t. Anyway, I’ve got to run. I have a meeting with the township about permits for Camp Evergreen in thirty minutes.”

  “I need a shower,” I mutter, peeling off my wet shirt. “And a new water heater, apparently.”

  “You can use the shower at my place. Just lock up after you’re done. And don’t throw your wet towels on the floor like you used to when we were kids.”

  “Your place. You mean Aunt Mae’s old lake cabin with the dilapidated dock. Do you even have plumbing yet?” I tease.

  My sister rolls her eyes at me. Again. “Yes, I do. It’s way better than yours. Oh, and just so you know, I have a friend staying at my place for a while. If you see her, be nice.”

  Callie's out the door before I can ask who she’s talking about. I stuff clean clothes, a towel, soap, and shampoo in a bag and get in my truck.

  I drive the fifteen minutes to Callie’s place—or rather, Aunt Mae’s old lake cabin—with my windows down. The heat of early summer ripples through the air, and the familiar scent of pine follows me down the gravel drive.

  I have to admit, the cabin looks better than I expected. Callie’s already replaced the sagging porch steps, and fresh paint covers what used to be peeling siding. Maybe my little sister does know what she’s doing.

  I park my truck and grab my bag. The place seems quiet with no sign of this mysterious friend Callie mentioned. Good. I’m not in the mood for small talk, especially with someone I don’t know or care about.

  I grin as I find the spare key still hidden in the fake rock by the hydrangea bush. Some things never change.

  Inside, the cabin smells of fresh paint and pine cleaner. Callie’s been busy. The old knotty pine walls have been sanded down, and the ancient shag carpet’s been ripped out, replaced with wide plank flooring.

  I head straight for the bathroom at the end of the hall, stripping off my damp clothes as I go. The shower is new, with gleaming fixtures and subway tiles replacing the old mustard-yellow tub with questionable water pressure.

  The hot water feels like heaven after the day I’ve had. I let it pound against my shoulders, washing away the frustration of my cabin’s horrible plumbing. Steam fills the small bathroom as I scrub the grime from under my fingernails and shampoo my hair.

  When I finally turn off the water, the cabin is still silent. I step out onto the bathmat, grabbing the towel I brought to dry off. I run it over my hair first, rubbing vigorously as I walk into the hallway. The cool air hits my skin, but with no one around, I’m not concerned.

  I’m halfway to the living room, towel still over my head, when I hear the front door open.

  “Callie? You won’t believe what Susan said during my morning yoga class when I asked everyone to—” The voice stops abruptly.

  I freeze, yanking the towel from my head to see a woman standing there, mouth slightly open, eyes wide, her gaze dropping lower. Much lower.

  “Fern?” My brain struggles to process what I’m seeing. Callie’s childhood best friend, who I haven’t seen since she left town years ago, is standing in my sister’s living room, staring at me. At all of me.

  For one eternal second, neither of us moves. Then her cheeks flush a deep crimson, and I finally have the presence of mind to whip the towel in front of me.

  This isn’t the Fern I remember. My sister’s best friend with braces and a nervous laugh who followed my brother Brock and me around. This woman standing in front of me has curves that her simple tank top and cut-off shorts can’t possibly hide. Her chestnut hair falls in waves past her shoulders instead of the tight ponytail she wore through high school. She looks like a goddess.

  “I—I didn’t know anyone was here,” she stammers, turning away quickly. “Sorry.”

  “Sorry about…” I gesture vaguely at myself. “Callie said I could use her shower since my pipes burst.”

  “It’s fine,” she says, though the blush hasn’t left her cheeks. “It’s not like we haven’t seen each other half-naked before.”

  “We were kids back then,” I point out. “We’re both… adults now. I should get dressed.”

  I hurry back to the bathroom while I try to ignore the way my heart is hammering against my ribs. This is Fern, damn it. Callie’s best friend. The girl who put frogs in my boots and laughed when I found them.

  Except she’s not that girl anymore. And my body’s reaction to her is anything but appropriate.

  “Shit,” I mutter, leaning against the closed bathroom door.

  I’m in deep, deep trouble.

  Chapter Two

  Fern

  I grip the edge of the kitchen counter, trying to steady my breathing. The coffee maker gurgles beside me, but I barely register the sound.

  Oh. My. God.

  Did that just happen? I squeeze my eyes shut, but that only makes the image more vivid. Archer standing there, water droplets running down his broad chest, that V-line at his hips leading down to a… very impressive specimen of a dick.

  I grab a glass, fill it with cold water, and gulp it down. Stop it, Fern. Don’t think about your best friend’s brother’s dick.

  I snort. It’s not the first time I’ve thought about it. I never told anyone, but I had a major crush on Archer growing up. I thought I was completely over it, but damn, seeing the man he’s grown into makes me fantasize about him all over again.

  Except, I no longer have to fantasize about what he looks like butt-naked. I got a good, long look at him. Archer’s all man. Broad, defined shoulders, muscled arms covered in intricate tattoos I don’t remember him having, and abs that look like they were carved from Timber Peak Mountain itself.

  The bathroom door clicks open down the hall, and I nearly drop my glass of water. I bustle around the kitchen, opening cabinets randomly and trying to look busy.

  “I’m making coffee,” I call out, my voice embarrassingly high-pitched.

  “Thanks,” he answers, his deep baritone sending a shiver down my spine.

  I hear him approach and take a deep breath before turning around. He’s dressed now, thank goodness—or maybe not—in a simple gray t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans. His dark hair is still damp, but he’s pulled it into a sexy man bun.

  Fuck, he’s hot.

  I pour us both a cup of coffee while Archer sits at the kitchen table like he owns the place. Which, technically, he does. This cabin belonged to his Aunt Mae.

  “Sorry again for earlier,” he says as I sit. “Callie told me a fried was staying over, but the place was empty when I got here. And I didn’t realize it was you. If I had known someone was here, I’d have worn some clothes.”

  “It’s okay,” I tell him.

  “So, what are you doing back in town?” he asks, looking at me intently.

  Were his eyes always this dreamy and… I don’t know how to describe them. Manly? It’s like testosterone shoots right out of them. He arches an eyebrow, and I realize he’s waiting for me to answer.

  Get it together, Fern, seriously.

  “Um, yeah. I’m back. Back again.”

  Jesus Christ, now I sound like Eminem. Way to impress the brooding man sitting in front of you, Fern.

  I clear my throat and try again. “I missed Timber Peak Valley. And when Callie told me she was going to chase her dream of running Camp Evergreen, I decided I would chase my dream too.”

  “And what is your dream, Fern?”

  My heart does a double-take at the way my name rolls off his lips.

  “Running my own yoga studio. I opened Timber Flow Yoga last week.”

  He whistles between his teeth. “Your own business? That’s impressive.”

  “I guess,” I say, my cheeks heating at his praise. “But don’t expect too much. Right now, the yoga studio consists of only one space, and it’s located above the hair salon. Sheer Perfection. Do you know it?”

  He shakes his head. “I cut my own hair.”

  I smile. Of course he does.

  “Anyway, it’s a modest start, but I’m happy with it,” I say.

  Archer nods, and I notice the way his t-shirt stretches across his shoulders as he leans back in his chair. Has he always been this… big? The Archer in my memories was tall but leaner. This one looks like he could lift a truck.

  “Good for you, Fern. Not many people have the guts to start their own business.”

  “What about you?” I ask.

  “I work at the lumber yard. It pays well, and I like working with my hands.”

  My gaze lands on those lumberjack hands cupped around his mug. They’re big and strong, with a few scars scattered over his knuckles. I’m trying very hard not to imagine his hands elsewhere, but my imagination’s already off the leash. Images of them cupping my breasts instead of a coffee mug flood my mind.

  “So you’re staying with Callie to save on rent?” he asks, interrupting my dirty thoughts. “Not helping with her Camp Evergreen thing?”

  “Just crashing here temporarily,” I confirm. “Housing prices are insane in town right now. Callie’s been a lifesaver.”

  “That’s my sister,” he says with a hint of pride. “Always taking in strays.”

  “Hey!” I protest, but I’m still smiling. “I’m not a stray.”

  His gaze meets mine. Dark and unreadable. “Didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

  Something about the way he’s looking at me makes my heart skip. Like he’s trying to keep himself in check.

  The energy between us simmers. I should shift it before I cross a line with him and make a fool of myself. Let’s face it: he’d laugh if I suddenly made a move, something I’ve been dreaming of for years. But I’m not the kind of girl who gets a guy like Archer. Besides, Callie would never agree to me dating him. She’d lose her mind if she knew I was thinking about her older brother like this. Imagining what his hands would feel like on my hips. Wondering what that low, rough voice would sound like in the bedroom.

  I swallow and sip my coffee, trying to ground myself.

  “You should drop by the studio sometime,” I finally manage to say. “First class is free.”

  He huffs out a quiet laugh. “Yeah? You think I look like a yoga guy?”

  I arch a brow. “You might surprise yourself. It’s good for flexibility and mobility. I’m sure being a lumberjack makes you stiff.”

  He leans back slightly, the edge of a smirk tugging at his mouth. “It sure gets me stiff. That and, well, other stuff.”

  My brain short-circuits for a second. Heat prickles across my cheeks, and I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

  He watches me like he knows exactly what he just did.

  I shrug, pretending like his remark isn’t doing something to me. “If you ever change your mind about yoga, I promise not to make you chant.”

  Archer doesn’t say anything. He looks at me like he’s picturing something he shouldn’t.

  “Maybe I’ll stop by,” he finally says, voice low. “Could use a few pointers.”

  His words are casual, but there’s nothing casual about the way he says them. And there sure as hell isn’t anything casual about the way he’s watching me now like he’s undressing me in his mind.

  My cheeks burn, but I hold his gaze. “I can’t wait to teach you a thing or two about flexibility and stretching, Archer.”

 

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