Page 12 of Taming the Wild Mountain Man

I stop zigzagging and turn to face her. "You know what? I'm thinking that since I've already taken one big chance in my life…why stop now?"

"That's the spirit." A bright smile lights up her face. "I don't know what's going to happen with you two, but I'm rooting for you, girl."

6

Hume

It's funny. My buddies and I soundproofed my shed last week, and here I am, no longerbangingaway. The noisy part of the bed construction is done. All that's left is to apply a protective, clear coat to the bed frames. After that, I'll do a final inspection of all ten frames, then call Joanne to arrange delivery to the shelter.

As always, Chewy is snoring away by my feet as I work. I finish one frame, pick it up over my head, move it over to the corner to dry, grab another frame, and place it in the center of my tarpaulin-covered workspace.

As I paint, my thoughts drift to Tenley. No surprise there. Since we kissed last week, she's been the only thing I can think about. Even more than before. It's bordering on obsessive. I don't recognize myself. I've liked women in the past, but what's going on inside me feels way more serious than just liking her. The kiss confirmed that my feelings are more than just a silly crush or an infatuation. They're real. I'm hooked on her, and that's a problem.

A big problem.

Because anyone can see I have a snowball's chance of anything more developing between Tenley and me, other than our current neighborly truce. Even wishing for a friendship with her feels like I'd be pushing my luck.

I'm sure she has plenty of guys her own age who are interested in her. Guys who share similar interests and reference points. Guys who can give her a family, if that's what she wants.

Turning the big five-oh two years ago woke me up to the fact that while I may be in pretty decent shape for a guy my age, it's something I'll have to focus a lot more on if I want to stay in shape. A lifetime in the military and pushing my body to the limits as a stuntman has taken its toll. How could I possibly be chasing after toddlers if I’m worried my hip might give out? Or even keep up with a child's endless energy? Would I have the patience needed to handle tantrums and sleepless nights at my age?

I've left it too late. That ship has sailed for me.

But not for Tenley. And as much as I'd love for something to develop between us, I'm not going to pursue her if it comes at the cost of her having to sacrifice something as important as starting a family.

Chewy lets out a growl before her eyes even open, and then a split second later, she's on her feet, barking as she races toward the closed shed door.

"There's no one there," I say to her.

She sometimes hears rustling at night, and it's usually only raccoons or squirrels. But she keeps barking, so I plonk my brush down in the paint tray and make my way over to the door and open it to prove my point to her.

Except…

"Holy smokes!" I cry out, not expecting to see anyone, much lessher.

Chewy launches into Tenley, jumping up and down like she's over the moon. Lucky dog. She gets to show her emotions, I need to keep my response much more restrained.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to frighten you," Tenley says once she gets Chewy under control. Her blue eyes meander down my bare chest before lifting back to my face. "I couldn't sleep."

I brace myself on the doorframe. "You miss all the noise, sweetheart?"

"I could tell you to shove off, but we're still in a truce." She chews into her bottom lip, and if anyone thinks it's impossible for a grown man to be jealous of a tooth, mark me down as Exhibit A. Kissing Tenley once is a sweet kind of torture. Yes, I'll always have the memory, but now that I've had a taste, it's made me greedy for more. "Aren't we?"

This is the first time we've seen each other since we kissed, but she's here now, standing in front of me, looking like a goddess from a galaxy far, far away in a gray Darth Vader tank top and green-and-cream pajama shorts that have tiny Grogu faces all over them. Her shorts areshort, the fabric stopping just above her upper thighs, displaying her long, shapely legs exquisitely, and yep, it's time to draw my gaze back to her face and subtly check to make sure I haven't started drooling.

"Yeah. Truce is still on," I confirm, opening the door some more. "Would you like to come in?"

She lifts on her toes to peer over my shoulder. "Into your murder den?"

"The murder den was only a pop-up. It's back to being a plain ol' shed now."

"I see."

She locks her sparkling eyes onto mine, setting off a series of explosions in my chest. Wait. Or am I having a heart attack? I paw at my chest. Nope. Still alive. They were Tenley-inspired explosions. Phew.

She saunters past me, and I inhale her sweet scent. "What's all this?" she asks, pointing to the bed frames I've spread out across the length of the shed, some leaning against wooden posts while others are propped up on sawhorses.

"I make furniture."

---