Page 9 of Possessive Mountain Man

“Thanks,” I murmur.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “I don’t have any cream, but I could get you sugar.”

“I’m good.” I raise the mug slowly, keeping my gaze locked on him. “I don’t need any more sweetness.”

His jaw ticks and he tears his glance away as he takes one of the seats.

We eat in relative silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. Oh, there’s tension in the air. An underlying current of electricity just waiting to snap.

Unable to draw Hayes into a conversation, and unable to keep still with the unleashed desire growing inside me, I wander aimlessly around the cabin. It isn’t big, but it’s sturdy. Tidy. Every inch of it seems to have a purpose.

But it’s far from spartan.

A row of framed photos line the mantle. There’s an old photo of a couple with a baby dark eyes and dark hair on their lap. There’s a photo of him holding a fish that’s at least half his size. There’s a picture of Hayes, my dad, and some of the guys from their platoon on one of their deployments.

I smile at it, tracing the frame with my fingertip.

“He talks about you a lot,” I say.

Hayes clears his throat. “Good things, I hope.”

“Always the best things.” I turn to face him, heart thudding. He’s watching me closely. Intently.

He shifts, almost like he’s about to say something, but then shakes his head. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

Pulling on his coat, he grabs a second one and tosses it my way. “Outside.”

Bundled up, we step into the frozen white world. The wind has died down, leaving a pristine blanket of snow, untouched and sparkling under the muted light.

Hayes grabs two old wooden snowshoes leaning against the side of the cabin. “Have you ever gone snowshoeing?”

“I haven’t.” A grin erupting across my face. “But there’s a first time for everything.”

“So you probably don’t know how to put them on.”

“You’ve got me there.”

“Yeah. I’ve got you.”

He steps closer, kneeling in front of me. His fingers brush my ankle as he secures the bindings, slow and methodical. Eventhrough wool socks he’d laid out for me, the touch sends a shiver racing down my spine.

“There.” He gives the bindings another tug. “You’re all set. Just don’t fall.”

“Easier said than done.” As if to prove the point, I take my first step, and the awkward length makes me stumble.

Hayes is there in an instant. His hands grip my hips to hold steady me. A rush of warmth floods me at the contact. I glance up, his mouth is quirked in a rare, soft smile.

“You’re okay,” he says. “You’ll pick it up in no time.”

“Says the guy who is a master at all things outdoors.”

He chuckles, the sound rich and deep. It sets my heart racing. But with his help, I take a few steps. It’s slow moving at first, but I find my rhythm.

We trek through the wilderness. The world around us is silent and pristine. Sparing me a sly sidelong glance, Hayes stops suddenly and leans over.

“What are you doing?”

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