Page 7 of Broken Mountain Man

He sat down his bowl and leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. “You want to go back?”

The question was simple, but something in his tone made my stomach flutter. “I—of course. I can’t just disappear.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have responsibilities. A life.”

“What kind of life?” His eyes were sharp, studying.

I shifted uncomfortably. “Normal stuff. Job, apartment, you know.”

“You happy with it?”

The question caught me off guard. “That’s not really the point.”

“Isn’t it?”

I stared at him, thrown by how direct he was. Most people didn’t ask questions like that. “I—it’s fine. It pays the bills.”

Something flickered in his expression—as if these were questions he’d asked himself. “Fine’s not the same as happy.”

“I don’t know how to be anything else.” The admission was torn from somewhere deep inside.

Something shifted in his expression. Softened.

“Yeah, you do.” He moved closer, close enough that I could smell the soap I’d used last night on his skin. “You were yourself last night. Real. No pretending.”

My breath caught. Because he was right about that too. I’d felt more like myself than I had in years. “What if that’s not enough?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.

“Enough for what?”

“For anything. For anyone.” I looked down at my hands, wrapped around the warm mug. “My ex used to say I wasn’t exciting enough. That I was too... ordinary.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

“Your ex was a fucking idiot.” His voice was quiet, but there was something dangerous underneath it.

I looked up, startled by the vehemence in his tone.

“Any man who made you feel like you weren’t enough doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.” His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “What else did he say?”

“Elias—”

“What else?” The words came out like a growl.

I swallowed hard, something fluttering in my chest at the protective fury in his voice. “That I was too soft. Too comfortable. That I never took risks or did anything exciting.” I gave a bitter laugh. “Guess he was right about that last part.”

“Bullshit.” He stepped closer, and I had to tilt my head back to look at him. “You’re here, aren’t you? You signed up for an outdoor retreat that put you outside your comfort zone. You followed a stranger into the woods. You spent the night in a cabin with a man you’d never met. That’s not safe or comfortable.”

“That’s not brave. Some would say it was stupid.”

“No,” he shook his head. “You trusted your instincts. Trusted yourself. That’s being brave.” His hand came up, cupping my cheek, thumb stroking across my skin. My heart hammered against my ribs. His touch was gentle, but his eyes were intense, like he could see straight through me.

“What do you want, Brittany?” His voice was rough.

“I want...” I swallowed hard. “I want to stop being afraid.”

“Of what?”

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