Page 10 of Her Mountain Man Veteran

But fuck, I have to do something.

I would never forgive myself if she left before I had a chance to see her again. A chance to talk to her. So, I start to write…then cross it all out. I try again. And again. Eventually, the table is covered in screwed up bits of paper, and I heave a sigh, banging my fist on the wood. Everything I write sounds wrong. I can’t put my feelings down on paper—it doesn’t feel natural. So instead, I keep things simple. I write a few lines, then reread the finished note several times before openingThe Adventures of Tom Sawyerand slipping it onto the page just before Chapter 2. Ironically, the first words of the chapter title are “strong temptations”, and I let out a huff of breath, half laugh, half groan.

Celeste is a strong temptation alright.

I force myself to wait a few hours before heading over with the book, hoping the argument with her brother will have cooled down by then. I don’t want to give Celeste more shit to deal with by showing up in the middle of a fight, and by the time I leave my cabin, it’s almost five o’clock. The sunlight is turning golden, making everything soft and dreamy as I walk through the woods, clasping the book in my hands.

When I reach Brody’s cabin, I knock on the door, my throat tight with anticipation. Just knowing I’m about to see her again is enough to make my body go haywire.

I swear she’s turning me into a goddamn teenager.

The door opens, and I feel a pang of disappointment when I see Brody appear. He doesn’t look happy to see me, either.

“Yeah?” he says.

“Here to see Celeste.” I hold up the book. “I forgot to give her this.”

Over Brody’s shoulder, I see Celeste peering toward the doorway, and the sight of her pretty face is like sunshine bathing my skin, warming me all over. It’s only been a few hours since I last saw her, but it feels like so much longer.

Fuck, I’m definitely losing my mind.

“Dane?” she says in that pretty little voice, smiling as she joins her brother at the door.

“Hi.” I clear my throat, holding out the book. “Came to give you this.”

Her eyes twinkle as she takes it. “Thank you! I totally forgot.”

“Make sure you read Chapter 2,” I tell her. “It’s my favorite part.”

I hold her gaze for a beat too long, ignoring Brody, and she nods. “Of course! Thanks again for letting me borrow it. It’s been on my to-read list forever.”

There’s a brief pause, and Brody cuts in.

“Thanks for stopping by.” He nods curtly. “See you around.”

He’s already starting to close the door.

“Bye,” Celeste says, looking reluctant. “Thanks again for the book, Dane.”

I barely have time to say my own hasty goodbye before the door snaps shut. I stare at it for a few seconds, my jaw tight. Part of me wants to tear the damn thing off its hinges and pull Celeste into my arms, like I’ve wanted to do since the minute I saw her. But I can’t push her away by acting like a damn caveman. For now, there’s nothing left for me to do but go home and hope like hell she sees the note. If not, I’ll figure something else out. I’m not giving up on this girl, and if breaking a door down is what it takes to make her mine, that can be Plan B.

7

CELESTE

A few minutesafter Dane leaves, I take a seat by the window, hoping I might get another glimpse of him. But the forest is quiet and frustratingly devoid of the handsome mountain man who has taken over all my thoughts.

“You want spaghetti?” Brody calls from the kitchen. “I can make some meatballs to go with it.”

“Sounds good,” I say, my eyes still fixed on the window.

My brother starts bustling around with pots and pans, the sound echoing through the cabin as I hold Dane’s book in my hands, lifting it to my nose. The outside smells like his cabin—pine and spices. I open it up and breathe in the scent of musty old pages, smiling to myself. Dane said this was his favorite book as a kid. I wonder if this is the same copy he had back then.

I begin to read, turning the pages carefully, speeding through Chapter 1 with a smile as I read about Tom’s antics. When I reach Chapter 2, I notice a piece of paper folded over, tucked between the pages.

A bookmark, maybe?

But as I look at it, I remember what Dane said. He told me to read Chapter 2—insisted on it—with a meaningful look that I couldn’t decipher at the time. But now, as I carefully unfold the paper, my heart starts to flutter. It’s covered in a few lines of scrawled handwriting, and I shoot a quick look toward the kitchen, making sure Brody is still busy before I start to read.

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