Page 189 of Rough and Rugged

The very bane of my existence since moving to Walker’s Ridge but also my nightly fantasy. This woman is my every fantasy come to life: thick, curly red hair, emerald green eyes, voluptuous curves that tell me she could handle my rough handling of her, and her happy and outgoing personality that lights up a room; who could possibly not find that whole package enticing?

Ariana quickly stands upright and turns to greet whoever entered the shop, her dimpled smile highlighting her smattering of freckles and her eyes lighting as she recognizes me. Here we go.

“Morning, Hunter! Here for your weekly bean pick-up and a pour-over?” she asks in her always chipper voice.

“Yup,” I grunt as I walk to my usual table and take a seat.

I know, a pour-over makes me sound like a coffee snob, but really it’s all Ariana’s fault. When she took over the shop five years ago from Mr. Henderson, she also took over my weekly pickups, and she quickly took to asking a million questions about what I used the beans for. When she realized it was for plain drip coffee, the next few weeks had her forcing different types of brew methods my way to try.

I watch as Ariana hurries behind the counter to start my pour-over and then scoops my weekly order of beans from the hopper. Their small-batch roasted beans are the best I’ve found in my forty-five years on this earth…and my former career as CEO for Jackson Industries had me all over the world. I’ve tried coffee from everywhere, but nothing beats hers.

“What other stops do you have in town today, Hunter?” Ariana asks as she scurries around to finish up my order.

“Just my usual stops at the market and hardware stores after this. Then back home,” I reply with a huff; she gets the same answer every week.

I come into town once a week to get supplies and then head back up the mountain to my cabin. I moved here for the peace and solitude; I don’t want to be around town longer than necessary. I’d never admit it to a soul, but my stop at Whole Latte Java is the highlight of my week. Feasting my eyes on Ariana’s delectable curves and listening to her sunshiney, melodic voice for fifteen minutes each week refills my fantasy bank for the nights alone up on the mountain.

Ariana sets my bag of beans on the table along with my pour-over. Her hand grazes mine and electric shocks zing up my arm. It takes all of my control to swallow down the growl that wants to escape and to will my body not to react.

“Let me know if you need anything else, Hunter. Your receipt is in the bag with the coffee; I charged your card like usual,” she says with a small smile as she turns and heads back to help a customer at the counter.

I watch Ariana as she works. She is so cheerful and chatty with everyone who comes in. Her smile is always genuine, and her emerald green eyes light up when she sees one of the ladies of the town’s “blue hair brigade” or a small child. She is all sunshine and happiness, and it’s just the reminder I need to get out of here and back to my mountain. If she truly knew who I was and how our lives are connected, she’d never want to talk to me again. And I refuse to give up my small weekly doses of her sexy, sunshiney personality.

With that thought, I toss a twenty-dollar bill on the table and head out of the shop without a backward glance.

Chapter Two

Ariana

Myeyesarelockedon Hunter as he leaves the shop, the same as every week. His dark brown hair and neatly trimmed beard make my hands itch to run my fingers through them to see if they’re as soft as they look. Add in his thick arms and thighs, and he has made his weekly “deposit” in my spank bank for future use.

I feel an elbow dig into my side and toss a glare over at my bestie, Laken. She must have snuck in from her shop, The Book Nook, next door, while I was busy watching Hunter hustle out of the shop like his pants were on fire.Mmm… Hunter’s ass in those jeans.

“You want to pick your jaw off the ground before a customer trips on the puddle of drool you’re leaving behind?” she teases with mischief shining in her eyes.

Laken knows that I’ve had a crush on Hunter since I moved to Walker’s Ridge over five years ago. She also knows that I’ve done nothing to let him know I’m interested in him more than our casual conversations each week when he stops in.

“Ha ha, you are hilarious,” I say without any heat in my tone and a roll of my eyes.

“Seriously, when are you going to ask him out already? In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve always gone after what you wanted and taken chances. Why is Hunter different?” Laken questions.

And that’s the million-dollar question. Why, when I’ve taken charge and taken chances in all aspects of my life, is it that when it comes to Hunter, I freeze up and keep myself in the friend zone? If that’s what you would even call it.

Sure, we’ve talked every week for the last five years, and I think I know as much about him as anyone in Walker’s Ridge does. But I wouldn’t call us friends. He’s fifteen years older than me, came to Walker’s Ridge to escape a fast-paced life in New York, and now builds custom furniture. That’s it; that’s about all anyone knows about him—well, besides me knowing his coffee preferences, I suppose.

“You’re right, Laken. I think it’s time to let Hunter know I’m interested in climbing him like a tree. And I think he just gave me the perfect opportunity.” I nod over to the table he just vacated to show her the bag of coffee he left behind. “Looks like a trip up the mountain after my shift today is in order,” I say with a wide smile on my face.

It’s time to take a chance and see if I can finally claim my mountain man; today’s shift can’t end soon enough.

Chapter Three

Hunter

Wipingmyhandsona shop towel and stepping back from the table I’ve been working on, I glance down at my six-year-old golden retriever, Gunner, and see he’s snoring away on his bed in my shop.

There were a few perks to leaving my position as CEO for Jackson Industries besides the reduced stress and no longer having to deal with people daily. I had also built myself a rather large portfolio that meant I could follow my passion and live in a bit of luxury even if I was going to live a more secluded life. My shop and cabin are evidence of that; they are designed for comfort and efficiency; I spared no expense when it came to building my forever home. It also means that anywhere I am, Gunner has one of his ridiculously oversized dog beds.

“Ready to head in and call it a night, buddy?” I ask Gunner as I ruffle his fur and start cleaning up my tools and supplies for the night.

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