Page 13 of My Bossy Mountain Man

This has to be wrong. It has to be. Because every second I spend near her, the last shreds of my control fray thinner, snapping one by one.

The air between us crackles with something dangerous, something inevitable. How long before I lose the fight? Before I pin her against these damn boxes and take what I’ve been starving for?

I don’t know how we do it, how we continue working.

Somehow, I don’t drag her back to me. Don’t pin her against the nearest wall and finish what we started. Instead, we keep sorting—pretending—like my pulse isn’t hammering loud enough for her to hear.

But every time I catch the flush on her cheeks, every time her words trip over themselves, I can feel my resolve unraveling. She’s a live wire under my skin, and I’m losing the fight to stay grounded.

There’s only so much a man can take before he snaps.

Every accidental brush of her fingers against mine—every time she leans in to take something from my grip—pushes me closer to the edge. My muscles lock, and my jaw clenches so tight it aches. How much longer can I last?

The pile of junk grows. My restraint doesn’t.

Finally, all that’s left is filling the dumpster with everything we no longer need. I just have to survive a little longer.

When Tulip pauses to rest between boxes hitting the pit of the dumpster, she drags the back of her hand across her forehead, leaving a smudge of dust on her skin. Then she tilts her face up—toward a sky now stripped of daylight, painted only in the deep, endless blues of night.

Her breath catches like it’s a sight she’s seen for the first time. I suppose it’s the first time we’ve ever been together this late in the night.

It’s a sight that brings a smile to her lips.

Not just any smile—the kind that steals the air from your lungs. The kind that makes the stars themselves seem to burn brighter, just to catch her attention. She watches them like they’ve spun the universe just for her, lips parted in quiet wonder.

I pretend I’ve stopped working to catch my breath. Not to memorize the way the moonlight traces her throat. Not to count every freckle the dark hasn’t swallowed yet.

There’s no doubt how deep I am. So deep, there’s no going back. That kiss of ours has done nothing but destroy my ability to love again unless it’s Tulip on the other end.

“Let’s finish this up.” Dusting her hands off, they move to her hips. “Just a few more boxes, and then tomorrow, maybe we can start hanging up some of those posters.”

Nodding along to her suggestion, I know there’s no point in wondering what we should do or shouldn’t. I trust her to make the right calls. Especially since she’d already done so much for the place I love.

Nodding along with her, I guide her back inside, unable to help myself when it comes to avoiding touching her again. As soon as my palm finds the middle of her back, it feelsright.

Moving the last of the boxes feels like a blur. It’s not long before I’m the one locking up the library and leading us both to my truck.

I’d promised her a ride home, but now I’m wondering if it was a good idea or not.

Right now, the only thing I want to do is take Tulip up to the mountain and keep her there with me. Even if we did share a few kisses, I’m not sure she’d enjoy getting kidnapped.

So, I ignore the urge to whisk her away, instead following her directions to her apartment complex. Once we arrive, I’m not sure whether I should shut off the engine. I don’t know if I should bid her goodnight.

Tulip’s not making it any easier by hopping out. Instead, she’s squirming against the seat, hesitating like she’s unsure of what she wants to do.

While I know I’ve been out of the game for years, I don’t think I remember something like this being so complicated.

Just as I turn to break the silence, she moves too—our bodies mirroring each other in the dim light.

She beats me to it.

“Would you like to come inside?”

Her voice wavers, stripped of its usual surety. The shadows swallow her expression, but I don’t need to see her face to know what this costs her—the hitch in her breath says enough.

For a heartbeat, I just stare. The offer hangs between us, so far from the goodnight I expected that my mind blanks.

Then she backtracks, words tumbling out in a rush. “I get it if you don’t want to. But with the library opening late tomorrow, there’s still plenty of time—”

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