Page 7 of My Bossy Mountain Man

I told myself I wouldn’t take advantage and look, but I don’t have the strength to keep my word. Not while her breasts are staring me back in the face.

God, what is wrong with me? Bleeding and injured, all I want to do is kiss and touch her. I need better control over myself.

“Um, I think I can finish this up.” Breaking the silence between us, she takes the paper towels from my fingers. There’s no denying the layer of pink growing deeper in color on her skin.

Shit, I’ve embarrassed her, haven’t I?Thisis why I try not to push. I make more people uncomfortable than not.

“Right.” Grunting, I turn away and make some distance so she can finish up. I take the moment to slip out, to make sure no one needs help.

In truth, distance is good. I need some fresh air in my system before all the heat in my body decides to rush south.

I’m running this place here. Need to keep it together.

Giving her a couple of minutes, when I return, I see her grimacing at her ruined top.

“I should probably run home. I don’t think parents will appreciate their kids looking at a bloodied aide.” Smile returning to her lips, she tries to crack a joke.

Tulip walks here every day. A twenty-minute stroll that she insists she doesn’t mind walking. Even on rainy days, when she has her own poncho, boots, and an umbrella, she’ll still come inside like a rainbow after a storm. Bright, colorful, and beautiful.

“No.” The word escapes me without thinking. As my greed takes over, the thought of losing any time with her fuels the demand to keep her here. “I mean, I’m sure I have something around here you could wear. The last thing I want to happen is for you to be bloodedandhave you pass out in that scorching heat happening outside.”

As she tilts her head in confusion, I rub the back of my neck as I try to figure out what I can give her.

Considering going through the lost and found to see if there’s anything she could fit, something better comes to my mind.

“Hold on a moment.” Leaving her on the desk, her legs kicking back and forth, I hunt through a few boxes of old posters and advertisements I’ve received over the last few years.

I have an issue with throwing things away, and most of these items have an inch-thick layer of dust collecting on them.

“I can help you go through that stuff,” she calls out, reading my mind as I rub the dust between my fingertips. “If you want, I mean.”

Moving from one box to another, I continue to shift things around. “A project like that would take all night.”

It’s a joke, but she shrugs.

“Say the word, and I won’t mind staying a few hours over. Not like I’ve got anyone better to spend my time with.” She lets a little sigh slip through, a hint of disappointment that’s impossible to ignore.

She’s spent plenty of time talking about her sister and her husband, gossiping and prattling on as if she doesn’t have many people to share with. Somehow, Tulip doesn’t have a boyfriend or husband to spend time with, so she’s always opting to work alongside me to help pass the time.

Even once the sun is down and it’s just us, she’s willing. Picturing such a scenario has my mouth watering.

“I’ll think about it. For now, let’s just focus on you.”

Cracking open another dusty box, I finally spot what I’ve been searching for—a few leftover shirts from last summer’s reading program, folded and forgotten.

The fabric smells faintly of old paper, a nostalgic tug at my memory. I shuffle through them, checking sizes, before glancing up at her.

“What size would fit you best?” Wanting her to be comfortable, I’d be happy to give her the shirt off my back if none of these work out.

Her reaction is instant. The confidence she wears like armor flickers, just for a second, and her cheeks flush pink. Her legs stop swishing as she’s suddenly fascinated by the floor.

“I really don’t mind going back home,” she mumbles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s barely a walk. Forty minutes, max.”

I give her a look—the kind that saysdon’t even try it—and she exhales sharply, biting her bottom lip. Her gaze darts away before she finally caves, voice softer now.

“Um… 2XL. If you have it.”

It takes a few seconds for my brain to catch up to the realization that she’s feeling self-conscious before I frown.

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