Page 3 of My Tempting Mountain Man

"Clearly."

"I take it yoga isn’t your thing?"

"Not exactly."

She laughs again, louder this time, completely unfazed by my bluntness. "Well, maybe one day I can show you some poses. It might help with your stress levels."

"I'm not stressed."

She arches an eyebrow at me, clearly unconvinced. "Right. Totally zen. Got it."

I shake my head, fighting a smirk that threatens to break through my irritation. She’s persistent; I'll give her that.

The road narrows further, steep curves demanding my full attention. The tires skid slightly over mud, and Everly gasps softly, bracing herself against the dashboard. My heart leaps at the sound, nerves prickling at the near miss.

"Careful!" she breathes out, gripping the door handle.

"Sorry," I grunt, pulse hammering loudly in my ears. Not just from the near accident, but from the way her eyes widen, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath the wet fabric of her dress.

She nods slowly, licking her lips nervously. I swear time slows as I watch the tiny movement, my gut tightening in response.

Finally, the cabin appears through the heavy curtain of rain—a small sanctuary, sturdy and hidden within towering pines. Relief floods through me as I pull up in front, cutting the engine.

"We're here," I announce unnecessarily, eager to put some distance between us.

Everly peers through the windshield, eyes wide with curiosity. "Wow, this is...remote."

"That's the point."

She smiles softly. "Right. Peaceful isolation."

Exactly. Isolation I've worked hard to maintain. And now there's Everly—vibrant, distracting, and completely out of place in my carefully curated solitude.

"Come on," I mutter, pushing open the door and stepping into the storm.

She follows quickly, clutching the blanket around her shoulders as we hurry onto the porch. I fumble with the keys, overly aware of her shivering presence behind me.

"Thank you again," she says softly, sincerity clear in her voice.

"Don't thank me yet," I reply dryly, finally getting the door open. "You haven't seen inside."

She laughs lightly, the sound echoing through my chest, unsettling and yet oddly comforting. "I doubt it's worse than being stranded on the side of the road."

We step inside, the cabin small but comfortable—simple furnishings, rustic wood walls, the faint scent of pine permeating the air. Everly looks around, a slow smile spreading across her face.

"It's perfect," she says quietly, eyes meeting mine. The intensity there surprises me, genuine warmth cutting through my usual indifference.

"It’s not much," I mutter, suddenly self-conscious.

"It's cozy," she insists, sincerity radiating from her. "I love it."

My stomach tightens again, and I clear my throat, forcing myself to look away. "Bathroom's through there. You should get dry. I'll find something you can wear."

"Thanks, Liam," she says softly, eyes soft and grateful.

I grunt again, turning away quickly before I say or do something I'll regret. I hear the bathroom door close behind her, the faint rustle of fabric as she undresses.

Goddammit.

---