Page 10 of My Devoted Mountain Man

"Brock, it is."

He takes off the bandage that covers Erika's side, and I cringe at the bruising all around the wound. I need to be more careful when I move her around. She's probably in a lot of pain.

"Everything looks good, Erika."

"Can I walk now? Fletcher seems to think he has to carry me everywhere."

"You can, but why not let him be a gentleman and do that for a little bit longer?"

She rolls her eyes at him, but lets him put the bandage back on. We invite Brock for dinner and get to know him a little better. I, however, can't stop thinking about our kiss. What would have happened if we hadn't been interrupted?

When I put Erika to bed, I give her a kiss on the forehead as if nothing has happened between us, because I need to think of her and her well-being first.

Chapter 6

Erika

That kiss between Fletcher and me was everything. I lost myself completely in it and can't stop thinking about it. It was like we started a fire between us, and the flames were consuming us while it was happening. It was so intense, and I'm sad it got interrupted.

The problem right now is that Fletcher has turned cold and distant, and now I don't know where we stand in this 'relationship' we have. Do we even have one? He's still attentive, but more often than not, I find him trapped in his own thoughts.

Meanwhile, it's been a week since the doctor came to visit, and we invited him for a barbecue this weekend. At the time, I was ecstatic because it meant we were doing things as a couple. NowI'm not so certain. It's killing me that Fletcher's pulling back from that intensity between us.

A part of me realizes that he might be keeping his distance because we can't really be physical right now. I'm much better this week, and I hardly feel a twinge coming from the wound. But it's like Fletcher has shut down on me.

Fletcher got everything we needed for the barbecue, and I'm just making sure everything is ready for when Brock comes. I might want to pick his brain about my situation with Fletcher.

"Hey, what are you doing? You need to rest."

"I'm tired of resting, Fletcher. I want to help."

"Yeah, okay. Maybe cover the potatoes in foil so we can put them on the grill. And prep the corn too."

I'm not really certain what it means to prep the corn, so I just take it out of the plastic it comes in and wash it. I love having baked potatoes with all the toppings, so I made sure Fletcher got bacon, cheese, and sour cream.

My appetite has come back as well, and I worry. I'm a curvy woman, and it doesn't help that I'm tiny as well, so every bit of food I eat goes to my hips. That's the one thing I have going for me, though. Fletcher keeps sending me heated looks.

The contradiction of those looks and his cold demeanor toward me confuses me completely, and I'm about ready to scream about it. I decide to make a pitcher of sangria and get distracted while doing that. Before I know it, Brock is knocking on our door, and I've already had two glasses of the fruity wine.

"Brock, it's so good to see you."

"How's my favorite patient?"

"I'm doing quite well, actually."

"I'll be the judge of that."

I walk him to my room and he checks the wound.

"You're right, everything seems to be healing properly. But you don't look very happy."

I sit on the edge of the bed and think about whether I want to share my issues with him. The possibility that he might know Fletcher better or have insights into his behavior makes my tongue loosen up.

"How well do you know Fletcher?"

"Just in passing. I'm on the SAR team here full time, but he's only a volunteer, so we haven't interacted much until now."

"Oh, okay."

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