Page 3 of Mountain Man's Redemption

But there’s one exception.

One thing that forces me back into town every damn time…

A warm cherry pie from Buttercup Bakery.

It’s the best damn pie in the world. Hell, it almost makes the stares and whispers worth it.

Almost.

With a sigh, I force myself out of the truck, slamming the door shut. In my peripheral vision, I see a woman on the sidewalk a few feet away. She stops in her tracks, then hurries across the street, giving me a wide berth. I can’t blame her. My appearance is just as intimidating as my reputation. Big, bearded, and covered in tattoos, I’ll be the first to admit that I look like trouble. A walking stereotype.

But fuck, all I want is to be left alone.

It’s all I’ve ever wanted. That’s why I spend most of my time in the woods, away from the town. When people here look at me, I only ever see two things in their expression: fear or disgust. Sometimes both. After what I did, I deserve it…but that only makes it worse. Means I can’t even justify getting pissed off about it. Can’t tell them all to go fuck themselves. I wish like hell I could sometimes, but no. This is all part of my punishment. I know that.

Keeping my head down, I shoulder open the door to the bakery, ignoring the sharp intake of breath from somewhere nearby. A mutter. Sounds like Rita Danvers, but I don’t look up. I won’t give her the satisfaction. Still, it’s shitty luck to be stuck in here at the same time as the most notorious busybody in Cherry Hollow.

I ignore the hiss of her gossip, keeping my gaze on the ground. But then I hear something that makes my pulse stutter: a sweet little voice up near the counter.

“Sorry! Can I get a slice of cherry pie, please?”

I look up for a second, but Rita Danvers is in the way, blocking the girl from view. I catch sight of a pair of gloved hands, a sweep of shiny brown hair. Then I look down again, swallowing hard.

“Thank you,” the girl says a moment later. Then I hear her footsteps approaching as she heads for the door. I shouldn’t look. I don’t want to see the owner of that pretty little voicerecoil at the sight of me. But I can’t help it. Some deep, unspoken instinct forces my head up, and my heart jumps into my throat.

Fuck.

The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen blinks up at me with pretty blue eyes, her rosebud lips falling open as we look at each other. Her dark hair falls almost to her waist, and my gaze flickers down her body, taking in her thick curves. The way she fills out her clothes makes my throat go dry, and I see her cheeks darken to an adorable shade of pink.

Holy shit…

She’s an angel.

It feels like we’ve been staring at each other for hours, but in reality, it’s barely the space of a heartbeat before the girl looks away and hurries past me. My head spins as I watch her vanish into the street, the door closing behind her.

What the hell just happened?

My body is going haywire, blood rushing downward at the memory of that pretty face. And those curves…goddammit, those curves. But there’s something else. Something that makes my heart thump even harder than her beauty.

It was the way she looked at me.

There was no fear or disgust in her expression. Her eyes were warm and eager, and it made me feel something I’ve never felt before.

But now she’s gone.

Fuck.

A crazy part of me wants to chase after her and find out who she is. I’m guessing she’s new in town, or a tourist just stopping by—someone who doesn’t know my reputation. Hell, it shouldn’t matter. She’s just a pretty stranger who I locked eyes with for a second.

So why does it feel like the whole damn world just shifted beneath my feet?

I run a hand over my face, barely noticing as Rita passes me, shooting me a dirty look on her way out. Now I’m at the front of the line, and the bakery clerk asks for my order, the words barely audible over the buzzing in my head.

“Cherry pie,” I grunt. “Thanks.”

I take a step closer to the counter, reaching for my wallet, when I feel something under my boot. Frowning, I look down. A navy blue glove pokes from beneath the sole, and I feel a jolt of recognition as I bend down to grab it. It’s one of the gloves the beautiful stranger was wearing. She must have dropped it.

“Would you like anything else?”

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