Page 7 of Destined for the Mountain Man

“Well then clearly there’s only one answer,” I say dramatically. “Bees.”

He laughs, actually laughs and nods. “Have you looked more into that? Allergies and all?”

Which gets me talking about everything I’ve learned about bee keeping, while Grant listens and occasionally gives me an idea just so I can keep going.

I’m determined to make this my first step into the world on my own. Grant’s been that big choice, my inspiration, not my reason, and I like that he’s so eager to help me find what I want to do with my life. I like how safe he is, how protective and charming in that quiet, strong way.

How could any woman resist him?

“How are you single?” I ask.

He turns and blinks at me after turning onto a dirt road. Then he thinks about it, doesn’t just answer the way he thinks I want to hear. He clears his throat. “I’ve never found another person better than solitude ... or at least mostly solitude. A few good friends, coworkers I don’t bother with outside of work, flings that didn’t last long.”

I blink at him and nod. I’ll take up as little space as possible and give him as much as I can. It’ll be easy since I want to figure out my own things. He has a porch, the whole forest, so much to explore either together or on my own.

“I wouldn’t have invited you here if I thought sharing space together wouldn’t work,” he states evenly, like reading my mind. “I’m not interested in wasting either of our time.”

Something heavy that had been rolling around my chest suddenly evaporates. There might be problems, but I’m here for a month ... which I should probably mention since I only mentioned two weeks of P.T.O. even though I told him I gave my notice ... will it change anything?

I’ll find out when I can catch my breath.

Chapter 6 - Grant

Charlotte is ... everything I pictured. That little dimple in her cheek teases me mercilessly, begging to be kissed. She slides out of my truck with a little hop, then immediately goes to get her bags, standing on her toes and desperately reaching in. I step up behind her and reach over. She squeaks and backs against me.

I take a slow breath, trying to calm my physical reaction to her.

“I could have gotten it, Grant. I’m not helpless,” she grumbles.

“While you’re here, you’re mine to take care of,” I remind, giving her the small backpack she brought while grabbing the duffle bag and hauling it over my shoulder. I take Charlotte’s hand and soak up the way she looks at me, like she’s happy to be mine and not just to take care of. Which is how it should be.

I’ve wanted her, fallen for her typed words, her voice, and now she’s walking near me, her hip brushing mine as we walk to my front door and it’s taken every bit of restraint to keep from picking her up, dropping her on my couch and having her the way I want and need.

Opening the door, I guide her in and watch her face as she drinks in what I have to offer. The living room is huge, there’sa spacious kitchen attached, a little sunroom in the back, then the loft with the bedroom and the bathroom. A small porch out front and a sprawling one out back. I turned the guest room into a hobby and craft space when I was interested in leather working and making metal rings, so it’s cluttered with all of that and my summer stuff.

I’m sure she’s going to notice the pillows that are out of place, the fact my curtains don’t match my carpet or something, but she strokes over the couch, smiles at the fireplace, then looks at a few of the pieces of art on the wall.

“Reminds me of Bob Ross paintings,” she murmurs before turning back at me with that gorgeous smile.

I want to taste her, want to bend her over the back of my couch and palm her ass, show her all the ways I can please her and prove she belongs here in every way. As her blue eyes darken and her cheeks flare red.

Her eyes slowly stroke over me and I step closer, called by that damn desire I glimpse.

“The guest room is a mess – an organized mess – but a mess all the same. The master is up the stairs with an attached bath. I can take the couch if you’d like and-”

“Grant, you’re a gentleman and I appreciate it, but I’m not forcing you out of your own bed. What size is it?”

It’s my turn to swallow a moan. I haul her things upstairs, watching her pert little ass as she sways it in front of me. Her curves are delicate and soft. She’s a bit taller than I expected, but so damn ... perfect.

“You’re a minimalist,” she informs.

“I am. There’s no point in having things that exist to take up space. It’s just more to clean,” I say.

She looks over the bed, then looks back at me, her blush still blooming across her face. She steels her shoulders. “We – we’ll both fit. And I think I can trust you.”

“Youcantrust me, Charlotte. You came here to stay in my house. I’m not going to hurt you, rush you, nothing. But I do think you should unpack,” I encourage with a smile.

She smiles as she looks back at me. We unpack together and every time my fingers brush hers, I want to pull her back against me. I want to shoot myself in the foot because all I want is to sink into her, that shy gentle look in her eyes alongside the steadfast determination.

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