Page 5 of Taming the Wild Mountain Man

"So, you likeStar Wars, huh?"

He's looking at the colorful mash-up of Luke, Leia, Darth Vader, and Yoda running up and down both my legs, a grin on that stupid sexy face of his.

"Yes, I'm a Warsie," I reply indignantly, squaring my shoulders.

"A Warsie?"

"It's like a Trekkie, but—you know what? It's not important. Stop distracting me." I point at my note he's holding. "I'm here to declare war."

He rests his forearm on the door frame, leaning in such a way that his entire torso is a display of taut lines and hard muscles. How is a guy in his forties this ripped? Men half his age would kill for abs like that.

He tips his chin up. "That so?"

I prime my hands on my hips and give my best, firmest, mostI'm not embarrassed in the least by my outfit choicenod I can. "It is. So don't say you haven't been warned."

I top that off with an indignant huff before turning around and marching back home.

"Chewy, no!" I hear Hume call out behind me.

I spin around. Rey is bounding toward me. "Oh, hey, you." I kneel down and pat her as she douses me in wet, sloppy licks.

"No, Chewy." Hume peels his dog off me. "We're in a war with this one." His voice drops into James Earl Jones territory as he declares, "She's the enemy."

I straighten. "Actually, I'm only at war withyou. I have no beef with Rey."

"Who's Rey?"

I point at his dog. "I didn't know what her name was, so I named her Rey Skywalker."

"The Jedi fromStar Wars?"

"That's right."

He thinks about it for a moment before that annoying smirk of his returns. "That's…not bad."

"Oh, I'm so glad, because your approval means the world to me," I respond so drily my youngest sister Beth, the queen of snark herself, would be proud. Then, because I can't help myself, I ask, "Why Chewy?"

He looks at me for a second, then says, "She'll chew pretty much anything. Especially paper. She's addicted to it."

"Tell me about it." When he frowns in confusion, I add, "She came over and started eating bits of the tossed newspaper I had in my moving boxes."

His eyes widen. "Chewy has been in your house?"

"Only a few times."

His eyes grow even more. "More than once? Chewy! Naughty girl! I've been wondering where you've been getting to." Chewy drops her head, repentant. "I'm so sorry. It won't happen again."

"It's fine.She'sfine," I say, reiterating my point that I have no problem with his dog. Just him.

"Of course. How could I forget?" he mutters. "It's me you hate. Well, if she's ever any trouble, please tell me."

"I will." I should walk away—no,stompaway…So why aren't my legs getting the message? "Actually, I've bought some organic treats from the vet for her."

"You have?"

"Yeah. I figured it was better than her munching on newspaper. Is…is that okay?" I scrunch my nose because I probably should have checked with him before I started giving his dog treats.

"It's fine. That's nice of you, actually."

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