Page 17 of My Wild Mountain Man

“Bash…” I said his name but didn’t know what else to say.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he called me out. “You haven’t come in all week.”

“Three days,” I corrected. “And it's been busy here. By the time I get out, I’m pretty wiped,” I found myself explaining.

“Shit.” He ran his fingers through his overgrown hair. He seriously needed a haircut. “I brought you food and a coffee,” he finally spoke, lifting the bag and cup. “The kind you like,” he added, and I frowned.

“How would you know?” I wasn’t sure if it was the lighting in the salon or what, but I could have sworn he’d blushed.

“I asked Molly,” he confessed, and something in me begrudgingly softened. Molly was one of my best friends and co-owners of Pine and Grind. She was the only one who knew just how infatuated I was with Bash.

“Coffee orders should be kept confidential. Like medical records,” I muttered under my breath, but he heard it. My sassycomment earned me a sexy gruff chuckle. He stepped forward and handed it to me. And for some reason, I took it.

“You don’t have to cut my hair if you’re too tired. Just take the drink and food, yeah?”

“Fine,” I muttered. “Thanks. You really didn’t have to do this.”

“I did.” His jaw clenched when our eyes connected. I wanted to ask him why.Why does he feel the need to feed me, take care of me?The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t ask them.

Don’t ask questions you’re not ready to have honestly answered, a little voice chimed in the back of my head. For all I knew, this was some kind of stupid gesture to apologize for kissing me because he regretted it, and that would kill. Maybe he was going to rescind his offer for a long weekend.

“I wish I could hear what was going on in your head,” he said, breaking the momentary silence.

“You really don’t,” I muttered, taking a sip of the coffee. I glanced down at the drink order label. Thankfully, Molly knew me and had given me a decaf.

“Is it okay?”

“Perfect, thank you.”

“Want to eat with me?” I could have sworn Bash Ledesma almost seemed nervous.But why?It was just me. I opened and shut my mouth, trying to get my thoughts together.

“Where is this going, Bash?”

“What?” I could have laughed at how instantaneously pale he turned.

“I’m not talking about us. I mean tonight. This whole food thing. What’s the game plan here? Because I’ll be honest with you, it almost looks like a date.”

“There isn’t one,” he blurted. “I mean, there isn’t a plan.” I stared at him, challenging him to double down. “I missed you,okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” He ran his fingers through his hair.

“You know, Morris at the barbershop is open later than the salon.”

“I know.” He swallowed. “I missed you. Not the haircut you could give me or anything else. Just you. I can’t stop thinking about you. Have you eaten? Did you sleep okay? I even wonder what book you’re reading.”

“Bash… you said?—“

“Please?” His brown eyes pleaded with me, and I sighed. I glanced at the watch on my wrist.

“I guess I can close a couple minutes early. Let me just lock and finish here, and I’ll get us set up to eat in the break room.” I pointed to the back area of the salon.

“I can help,” he offered, and I was too tired and too confused to argue.

When I walked back from locking up the front door, I suddenly realized I was in the salon, alone with the guy of my dreams. Too bad that in his eyes, I was forbidden fruit. He had finished sweeping and wiping down my station.

“How did you know you have to do all that?” I asked, slightly impressed. He shrugged.

“My grandma was a cosmetologist,” he shared.

“She was?” Something softened inside of me.

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