Page 4 of Mountain Rancher

Hard.

Oh.

What begins as gratitude transforms into something else entirely.

His lips are firm and confident. They claim my mouth with an intensity that makes my knees weak. I fist my hands in hisshirt as I pull him closer. His beard scrapes deliciously against my skin.

I’ve been kissed before, but never like this.

His tongue sweeps against mine, and I make a sound I barely recognize as human. He tastes like coffee and mint and something uniquely male that makes me press closer.

His strong arms wrap around me, one hand at my lower back, the other still tangled in my hair. Our bodies are flush against each other. Through the thin material of my blouse, I can feel the hard planes of his chest and the steady beat of his heart.

The rational part of my brain, the part that makes calculated investment decisions and leads boardroom presentations, has completely shut down.

All I can process is sensation. His mouth on mine, his hands holding me tight, and the heat building between us.

When the cowboy finally pulls back, both of us are breathing hard, and his amber eyes are dark with desire.

That's when reality hits me like a bucket of ice water.

I know those eyes.

“Hunter?” I gasp. “Hunter Thomas?”

“Hey, Abby.” A small smile plays at the corner of his mouth. The same mouth I just kissed like my life depended on it. “It’s been a while.”

For a second, all I can do is stare at him.

The last time I saw my brother Brody’s best friend Hunter, he was twenty-three years old, all lanky height and boyish charm. He’d been working as a ranch hand while finishing his agriculture degree. I remember him in faded jeans and worn boots. His frame was still filling out, and his hair was always falling into his eyes as he helped during calving season.

This man standing before me is... not that Hunter.

The man standing before me now is a force of nature.

His shoulders have broadened into a wall of muscle that strains against his blue plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with veins. His chest is solid and tapers down to a narrow waist, where his belt buckle catches the sunlight. Those worn jeans now cling to powerfully built thighs that speak of countless hours in the saddle.

The boyish softness of his face is gone, replaced by sharp angles and a strong, chiseled jaw now covered with a neatly trimmed beard. His amber eyes seem more intense and his dark hair is shorter now, but still thick, with a slight wave that makes my fingers itch to run through it again.

“Hunter, I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you. I was just… the fall… I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

My words tumble out in a breathless rush as I take a step backward, only to feel the edge of the trail crumble slightly beneath my heel.

Shit.

Hunter’s hand shoots out instantly and wraps around my wrist to pull me away from the edge.

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart.” His gaze drops to my mouth with an intensity that makes my pulse skyrocket. “I’m not.”

Chapter Two

HUNTER

Abigail’s eyeswiden as she stares up at me. “What do you mean?”

I can’t help but track the movement of her pink tongue as it darts out to moisten her full lips.

“I mean exactly what I said.”

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