Page 8 of Lost with the Mountain Man

Rust waits beside his four-wheeler until I've driven out of sight.

My chest aches like my heart's been ripped out. I struggle not to cry as I drive back to Darkmore, knowing that I left my heart in the rough, calloused hands of a lonely mountain man.

six

Charlie

Aweekwentby,and my grumpy mountain man hadn't come in to say hi, let alone for a coffee. I counted each day, waiting and getting my hopes up every time I heard the bell above the door chime.

I'd peek out from the kitchen, only to be disappointed. And the bakery was more popular than ever, so I found myself peeking a lot. Clara had done wonders for business.

I'm kneading away at dough for tomorrow's bread when Clara comes into the kitchen.

"You doing ok?" she asks.

I shake my head, working at the dough. "No sign of Rust, huh?"

"No," she says with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Charlie."

"It's probably for the best," I lie. "He doesn't want a girl like me. I'm not built for the outdoors." I look around at the gleaming ovens and flour-dusted tables. "This is where I belong."

Clara frowns, absent-mindedly rubbing her baby bump. "I was going to close up. Are you almost done?"

"Yeah. you go ahead. I'll lock up when I'm done," I say. "I just have a bit more dough left."

"Ok," she gives me a long look before turning away.

I hate her feeling sorry for me. "Go on, shoo," I say, waving her off. "I'm fine. You go home and put your feet up."

She smiles and shakes her head. "You're a good baker, Charlie. I'm lucky to have you."

I roll my eyes, but I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. "I know I'm the best baker this side of Jasper Park."

We both laugh, and I watch her leave, my heart heavy with the weight of my thoughts.

After the dough is ready for tomorrow and the worktops are clean, I pull a bag out from under the table. Gluten-free flour.

If my – yes, mine – I decided, grumpy mountain man wasn't going to come to me, then I had to go to him.

I get to work making gluten-free bread and muffins. I'm not sure if Rust would even like them, but I figure it was worth a shot. I have to see him again. I have to know if that kiss meant as much to him as it did to me.

I feel like Little Red Riding Hood with a basket of bread and muffins in my arms, hiking through the forest. Thankfully, this time, I know where I'm going.

I follow the trail from the parking lot to Rust's cabin. I spent all night baking. As soon as the sun was up, I ventured out into the forest.

It feels like I've been hiking for hours when I finally see the cabin through the trees.

Now the moment of truth. I take a deep breath before knocking on the door.

The sound of my knuckles against the weathered wood echoes through the trees. I wait, my heart pounding in my chest.

After what feels like an eternity, the door creaks open. Rust stands in the doorway, his expression unreadable. He's shirtless, and I can see the muscles in his arms and chest ripple as he moves.

"Charlie," he says, his voice gruff. He looks surprised to see me.

"Hi, Rust," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "I baked something for you." I hold up the basket, feeling a little ridiculous. "I know you don't eat bread, but I made some gluten-free stuff. I thought you might like it."

Rust's carefully shielded expression breaks at that moment. He pulls me close, crushing his lips against mine. The basket, thankfully still closed, falls from my hand. I don't care. I'm too busy pressing myself against him, my arms wrapping around his neck, my fingers diving into his short, salt-and-pepper hair. Rust's hands grip my waist, lifting me off the ground. I wrap my legs around him, a gasp escaping my lips as he carries me inside the cabin, kicking the door shut behind us.

---