Page 34 of Entangled with a Mountain Man

My heart races as I take in the way Everett stands before me, his rugged features framed by the soft light streaming in from the shop’s window. There’s an intensity in his blue eyes that makes it hard to breathe, and my body responds with an unexpected warmth that pools low in my stomach.

I fidget with the hem of my shirt, feeling the soft fabric beneath my fingers, a poor distraction from the heat rising in my cheeks. I fight the urge to fill the quiet with nervous chatter, to break the spell that has wrapped around us.

But every time I open my mouth, I remember his voice, deep and steady, wrapping around me like a warm embrace. It’s a voice that holds quiet strength and unspoken reassurance, a balm for the emotional wounds that I often struggle to disguise. I find myself reminiscing about our conversation from last week, a moment that feels both sacred and vivid in my mind.

I can still picture the way he leaned in slightly, that attentive look in his eyes as he softly asked, “How are you doing, Kenzie?”

The concern etched on his face was genuine, peeling back the layers of my defenses. Just for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world, the noise of Silver Ridge fading into a distant hum.

Our conversation was flowing seamlessly until the jarring laughter of Paige and her mean girls shattered the moment like glass breaking on concrete, and in an instant, the connection we shared felt violated.

I could sense the shift in the atmosphere—the lightness replaced by tension—and the way Everett’s features hardened in response to their intrusion.

They had interrupted something special, a budding connection that had felt so right just moments before. But even more potent was the burgeoning attraction that I hadn’t fully acknowledged until that day: the way he made me feel—safe, seen, and understood.

I steal a glance at him, noting the way his broad shoulders seem to fill the doorway, a strong silhouette that makes my pulse quicken.

Thinking back to that encounter, my heart flutters, stoking a longing within me. I wish I could recapture that feeling, the warmth of his gaze, the way my laughter blended with his deep chuckle. My skin tingles at the thought of how he seemed so effortlessly to draw me out of my shell, making me forget that I'm not wanted here.

Just like I wasn't wanted by my mother.

Same tune. Different station.

But I guess reality adjusted Everett's stance. Because those walls are back, his grumpy demeanor returned with a vengeance. And once again, I was left alone.

There's a faint hint of cologne, earthy and intoxicating, that washes over me when the breeze from the door swirls around. It pulls me in closer, making it hard to think clearly.

Was that connection even real, or just a fleeting moment of me grasping for anything, anyone, to feel less alone?

Everett shifts slightly, and the movement only heightens my awareness of him. The way his jaw tightens. I want to reach out, to touch that rigid jawline and see if the resolve crumbles beneath my fingertips.

Time stretches, and in this silence, I can almost hear his thoughts mingling with mine—a dance of desire laced with unspoken complications. All I can think about is the warmth of his touch and the protection that simmers just beneath the surface of his tough exterior.

I think this is what people mean when you're being eye fucked. Because I'm breathing heavily, and there's a tingling sensation that's crawling through my body whenever he's near.

Finally, Everett clears his throat. "Well, we should be going. Girls, say goodbye to Miss Duncan."

The twins throw themselves at me one last time, their little arms squeezing tight. "Bye, Miss Kenzie! See you tomorrow!"

As they pull away, I catch a flash of something in Everett's eyes. Yearning? Regret? But before I can decipher it, it's gone, replaced by that infuriatingly blank expression.

"Miss Duncan," he says with a curt nod, then turns and ushers the girls out the door.

I watch them go, a strange mix of emotions swirling in my gut. I want to send a sledgehammer through that man's walls to see if these feelings are one-sided. To beg Everett to see me as more than just the woman who almost ruined his friend's marriage.

But I know it's pointless. In his eyes—in the town's eyes—I'll be an outsider.

The homewrecker.

As the door swings shut behind them, I turn back to the empty shop. The silence feels oppressive now, weighing down on me like a physical thing.

I move to the register, counting out the day's earnings with mechanical precision. Each bill I sort is another step closer to freedom. Another day closer to leaving this town and all its judgment behind.

But as I work, I can't shake the image of the twins' smiling faces or the warmth of Steph, Mel. and Big Bear's acceptance. I've found people who see me—really see me. And the thought of leaving them behind... it hurts more than I want to admit.

I close the register with a sigh, leaning against the counter. The logical part of my brain knows I need to go. Silver Ridge will never truly be home, not with the cloud of suspicion hanging over me. But my heart... my traitorous heart wants to stay.

As I lock up the shop and step out into the cool evening air, I make a silent vow to myself. I'll save every penny and work every hour I can. And when I have enough, I'll leave this town in my rearview mirror.

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