Page 3 of Entangled with a Mountain Man

"Mhmm," I nod sagely. "Not everyone gets a built-in best friend for life. Sure, you might drive each other crazy sometimes, but at the end of the day, you've always got someone in your corner."

Harper and Hazel exchange a look, something unspoken passing between them. Then, to my surprise, they both lean in and wrap their arms around me in a tight hug.

"Thank you, Miss Kenzie," Harper mumbles into my shirt. "You're really nice."

“And pretty,” Hazel adds.

I feel my eyes start to sting, and I blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay. Lord, when was the last time someone hugged me like this? Like I mattered? Maybe a year?

"Anytime, sweethearts," I manage, my voice a little thicker than usual. "Us twins gotta stick together, right?"

The rumble of an engine cuts through our moment. A sleek black pickup pulls into the parking lot, its tires crunching on the gravel.

"That's our dad!" Hazel exclaims, hopping off the bench.

I watch as a tall, broad-shouldered man steps out of the truck. Even from a distance, he’s a head turner. I sense an aura of quiet strength about him.

His face is stern as he scans the area, but it softens slightly when his eyes land on the girls.

"Hazel? Harper?" His deep voice carries across the lot. "I told y’all to stay put."

“Yes, sir,” they groan, their gazes dropping.

"We just wanted to stretch our legs," Harper’s head pops up. "We made a new friend!"

The man's gaze shifts to me, and I feel the full weight of his assessing look. It's not unkind, exactly, but there's a wariness there that has my stomach flip-flopping.

As he approaches, I stand, smoothing down my jeans and hoping I don't look as travel worn as I feel.

"Everything all right here?" he asks, his eyes never leaving my face.

"Yes, sir," I reply, offering a friendly grin. "Just having a little chat with your girls. They're quite the pair."

His lips twitch, almost like he wants to smile but can't quite remember how. "That they are," he agrees, extending a hand. "Everett Logan."

"Mackenzie Duncan. But people call me Kenzie," I say, shaking his hand firmly. His palm is rough with calluses, and I can't help but notice how my hand seems to disappear in his larger one. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Logan."

"Everett," he corrects, dropping my hand. "Mr. Logan is my father."

I nod, fighting the urge to fidget under his intense gaze. Something about this man has me feeling off-balance, and I don't like it.

"You're new in town."

It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "Just got off the bus. I'm supposed to meet a friend, but…”

The sound of a car stopping nearby distracts me. We all look toward the sound as a sleek black Mercedes pulls up to the curb, far too fancy for this rustic little town.

My breath catches in my throat as the driver's side door opens, and a man steps out—a man I'd know anywhere, even after all these years. His dark hair is shorter, and his jawline is more chiseled. He hasn’t changed one bit.

"Ian," I whisper, half in awe and half in dread. I boarded the bus at his urging, but I’m still not sure he’s the man I befriended through letters.

"Kenzie!" A brilliant smile stretches across his face as he catches sight of me. "Damn, girl, you look good as fuck!"

“Language, Ian,” Everett barks.

“Man, chill out.” Ian strides toward me, arms outstretched in welcome—or is it possession? A shiver runs through me, part anticipation and part warning prickle.

I'm vaguely aware of Everett tensing beside me, his posture shifting slightly. It's almost like he's... positioning himself between Ian and the girls. But before I can dwell on it, Ian reaches us.

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