Page 6 of Jealous Mountain Man
With that, he turned his back, and I assumed he closed his eyes. As I walked out of the water, though, I felt a tingling sensation all over, and I had to admit to myself that I kind of liked the idea of him ogling me. In fact, if he turned and peeked while I was getting dressed, I wouldn’t mind that at all. I would even like it.
What did that say about me? I wasn’t sure, but I had a feeling by the end of the night, I’d be a changed woman.
4
ENZO
It had been a long time since I’d brought a woman back to my place. Actually, I’d never had one at this cabin, which was weird—but maybe not so much, considering the way I’d been run out of my hometown.
It wasn’t that much of a surprise. I had other things on my mind—like staying alive. Getting laid was the last thing I was thinking about.
Until today. Suddenly, that was all I was thinking about.
It wasn’t even three o’clock in the afternoon, and I was firing up the grill and waiting for steaks to defrost in the sink. Larsen was going through my pantry and preparing side items. I had no idea what the result would be, but whatever it was, it would be delicious.
Larsen was at the counter when I went inside to grab the steaks, slicing potatoes on a cutting board I didn’t even realize I owned. This cabin had come completely stocked. Turnkey, the real estate agent had called it. That worked fine for me since I’d only packed up as much as I could carry in the back of my pickup when I moved here.
“How’s it going out there?” she asked, pausing her humming to look back over her shoulder at me. She didn’t stop chopping. That could be dangerous.
“Great. How’s it going in here?”
“Perfect,” she said. “You’re going to love this. Do you have any sour cream?”
Sour cream. That would not have been the request I would have expected. She was making potatoes, but they wouldn’t be baked—at least not judging by the way she was chopping them up.
“Can’t say I do,” I said. “I could run to the market and grab some.”
“Oh no. It was just a thought. They’ll be fine without it.”
Something was bugging me as I headed back outside to throw the steaks onto the grill. It was an unsettled feeling. Halfway through cooking, I figured it out.
The coziness I’d felt inside had taken me by surprise. It was something I’d looked for all my life. A warm, loving home filled with family members who cared about each other, parents who cooked for their kids and made sure they got off to school with a packed lunch and everything they needed… In just a few minutes in the kitchen, I felt more of that than I had in all my years growing up with parents and two siblings.
What the fuck was that all about?
When I finally headed back inside with a platter full of steaks, I found things had gotten warmer and cozier. Larsen was in the process of setting the table. She’d set a big plate of potatoes in the center and, next to it, a bowl of green beans she’d pulled out of the pantry.
I’d forgotten those were in there. Hell, I hoped they hadn’t expired. That would be my luck—give both of us food poisoning at our first meal together.
“They smell delicious,” she said as I set the steaks next to the potatoes.
“Thanks.”
I headed into the kitchen and opened the fridge and paused, surveying its contents. The last thing I would have expected was company today, so I had absolutely nothing to drink but beer.
“I poured a glass of ice water,” she said, coming back into the kitchen. She snatched up a glass that was next to the stove and headed to the table.
I grabbed a beer and followed her. A smile threatened to shove away my frown. Frowning was my go-to expression. I’d been told I didn’t smile enough, although not in those exact words. People would jokingly call me a grump or ask me if I ever smiled. That had very little to do with my recent past. I’d simply grown up in a household where smiling wasn’t an everyday thing.
Larsen was still standing as I approached, waiting for me, I assumed. It was nice of her, but it was more of a gentleman’s move. I definitely would’ve wanted her to sit without me.
We both settled into our chairs, and I waited for the uncomfortable silence to stretch between us. We’d have to make small talk, like on a date. I hated small talk.
But instead, she spoke, surprising me with her bluntness. “So I guess you’re probably used to women ogling you.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Ogling?”
I reached for my knife and fork and began slicing off a piece of steak. She was doing the same. I held my breath, hoping she’d like the results of my hard work.
