Page 4 of Her Mountain Man Veteran

“Do you live by yourself?” I ask, trying not to betray how much the question matters to me. It’s stupid. Why should I care if this stranger is married?

“Yeah.” The simple response sends a wave of relief through me, and Dane’s gaze flickers to mine once more, his eyes like fire. “How about you?”

“Same. It’s just me since Brody left.”

Something in his face seems to relax, and he reaches out his hand, helping me over a giant fallen log. His palm is rough and calloused against my bare arm, but his grip is surprisingly gentle as he helps me climb over, my skin tingling from his touch long after he pulls away.

Eventually, we reach another cabin hidden in the trees. It’s similar to Dane’s—a little smaller, but just as quaint, and surrounded by colorful wildflowers. The sound of running water tinkles from somewhere nearby, and a large brown truck is parked outside. I smile when I notice a bumper sticker for the Green Mountain Grizzlies, my brother’s favorite hockey team. But as we approach, I feel a sense of reluctance. As soon as I knock on the door, Dane will leave. He’ll go back to his cabin, and I’ll have no reason to see him again. It shouldn’t bother me as much as it does.

You’re here to see Brody, remember?

Not lose your mind over a total stranger.

“This is definitely the place,” I tell Dane, gesturing to the bumper sticker before I knock on the door. It opens almost immediately and my brother stands on the threshold, his face tense with worry.

“Jesus, Cee.” He looks pissed, but that doesn’t stop him from pulling me into a tight hug. “I was about to send out a damn search party. Where the hell have you been?”

“I’m sorry.” We pull apart, and I look at him apologetically. “The road was blocked, so I walked.”

“Walked?” Brody shakes his head in disbelief, crossing his arms. “You don’t know these woods. You have any idea how easily you could have gotten lost?”

“Well…actually, that’s what happened.” I cast a sheepish look toward Dane, who is standing by the truck, like he’s trying not to intrude on our reunion. Brody follows my gaze, eyes narrowing slightly.

“This is Dane,” I say, beckoning him to join us. “I accidentally ended up at his cabin instead of yours.” I don’t mention that he was naked at the time; something tells me Brody won’t appreciate that detail. “He walked me the rest of the way here. He even carried my luggage for me.”

My brother nods, reaching out a hand to Dane and shaking firmly. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for helping my sister.”

“Don’t mention it.” Dane sets down my suitcase, meeting my gaze. “I’d better go.”

My heart sinks. I’d love to ask him to stay for a drink, but I can see Brody watching us impatiently, so I force a smile and say, “Thanks again, Dane. You’re a total lifesaver.”

“No problem.” He clears his throat. “See you around.”

Then, all too soon, he’s retreating through the forest, vanishing among the trees.

“You’re lucky you found someone to help,” my brother says, looking irritated. “You could have spent days wandering around these woods.”

“It’s good to see you too, Brody.”

He sighs. “You know damn well I’m happy to see you. But you gotta take care of yourself, especially now I’m not around to look out for you.”

“I know.”

There are lots of things I could say, but I’m not interested in arguing with Brody. We’ve had this kind of conversation a million times over, and it never achieves anything. My brother is an overprotective grump. It’s his nature, his way of showing he cares, and I’ve accepted that. With our age difference—his forty years compared to my twenty-four—he sometimes feels more like a father than a brother.

“Come in and let me show you around,” Brody says, grabbing my suitcase and hauling it into the cabin. But before I follow him inside, I turn back toward the woods, squinting through the trees. In the distance, I swear I can see movement—the flash of a red flannel shirt—and my heart aches as it fades away to nothing.

With a sigh, I turn and follow Brody into his cabin. It’s cozy, though sparsely decorated, with rustic furniture and a large rug covering most of the floor.

“What do you think?” he asks. “Haven’t gotten around to buying a couch yet. It’s next on the list.”

“It’s gorgeous. I love it.”

I smile at my brother. It’s only been a month since he left Denver, but he already looks at home in the mountain wilderness. His beard is longer and thicker, his tattooed skin tanner, and there’s a glint in his eyes I’ve never seen before—like he’s finally home.

“Good,” he says. “It will look better when I’m finished decorating.”

There’s a quiet pride about him as he surveys his cabin, and my heart fills with affection as I say, “Promise not to get too lonely out here by yourself.”

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