Page 25 of Mountain Man Summer

Whatever happened next, last night had changed something fundamental between us. And despite every instinctfor self-preservation I'd cultivated since Jessica left, I couldn't regret it.

Chapter Seven

“Midnight Confessions”

Didi

I woke to the scent of coffee and the unfamiliar touch of worn cotton sheets against my naked skin. Sunlight filtered through half-drawn curtains, casting golden stripes across an unfamiliar room. For a disorienting moment, I couldn't place where I was. Then the memories flooded back—Noah's rescue from my sweltering cabin, moonlit skinny dipping, his mouth on every inch of my body, the way he'd filled me so completely as we moved together on the lakeshore.

A flush of heat rose to my cheeks as snippets from the night replayed in vivid detail. I stretched languidly, my body pleasantly sore in ways that spoke of thorough satisfaction.

Noah's side of the bed was empty, the sheets cool to the touch. I slipped from beneath the covers, borrowing his discarded t-shirt from the floor. It hung to mid-thigh, swimmingon my frame but carrying his scent—which instantly caused my stomach to flutter.

I followed the aroma of coffee and bacon down the hallway, pausing at the threshold of his kitchen. Noah stood at the stove, his back to me, wearing nothing but low-slung shorts. Morning sunlight accentuated the defined muscles of his shoulders and back, calling to mind the way those muscles had flexed above me last night.

As if sensing my presence, he turned, a slow smile spreading across his face when he saw me in his shirt.

"Morning Beautiful," he said, voice still rough with sleep. "Coffee?"

"God, yes," I replied, padding across the cool hardwood floors. "I'm useless without caffeine."

He poured me a mug, sliding it across the counter. Our fingers brushed during the exchange, and even that simple touch sent sparks skittering up my arm. After last night, I shouldn't be reacting like this to casual contact, but the morning-after domesticity felt even more intimate than our naked encounter in the lake.

"Sleep okay?" he asked, turning back to the stove where he was flipping pancakes.

"Better than I have in months," I admitted, settling onto a barstool at the counter. "Though I'm not sure how much of that was actual sleep versus... other activities."

His chuckle was low and warm. "No complaints here."

This was the part that should be awkward—the morning after an impulsive hookup—but it wasn't. There was an unexpected comfort between us that defied our brief acquaintance. Three days ago, Noah Sterling had been a stranger rescuing me from Miller's Rocks. Now, I was drinking coffee inhis kitchen wearing nothing but his t-shirt after a night of mind-blowing sex.

"You cook too," I observed, watching him plate perfectly golden pancakes. "Is there anything you're not good at?"

"Emotional vulnerability," he replied with surprising candor, then quirked an eyebrow. "And origami. Never got the hang of it."

I laughed, grateful for the moment of levity that eased the morning-after tension. "Well, I'm terrible at cooking, fishing, boating, and apparently choosing stable men, so you're ahead of the game."

Something flickered in his eyes at my self-deprecating comment, but he simply slid a plate in front of me. "Eat. You'll need your strength."

"Planning a repeat performance, Detective?" I teased, the memory of last night sending another wave of heat through me.

"Planning to fix your air conditioner," he corrected, though his darkening eyes suggested he wasn't opposed to my interpretation. "But I'm open to multitasking."

We ate at the counter, knees occasionally brushing, the casual domesticity punctuated by loaded glances that promised more. Noah asked about my preferred coffee (strong, with just a splash of cream), whether I was a morning person (decidedly not), and if I had any food allergies he should know about (none, though I don’t particularly care for mushrooms). Simple questions that carried unexpected weight.

"So," he began, clearing our empty plates, "about last night—"

My phone rang from somewhere in the living room, interrupting whatever he'd been about to say. I recognized Jamie's ringtone instantly.

"Sorry, I should get that," I said, sliding off the stool. "It's work."

Noah nodded, understanding. "Take your time."

I found my phone in my overnight bag and answered, turning away from Noah's curious gaze. "Hey, Jamie, what's up?"

"Where the hell have you been?" Jamie demanded, her voice pitched higher with anxiety. "I've been texting you for hours!"

I glanced at the screen, noticing a string of missed texts. "Sorry, I... my phone was on silent."

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