Page 13 of The Mountain Man's Curvy Surprisem
Damn Mack! He obviously stole far more than my image. It’s a good thing he’s on the road because I’d ring his neck if he were here.
“How’s sobriety going for you?”
“Most days, it’s not a problem. But I’d be lying if I said I don’t sometimes feel tempted to take a drink.”Like right fucking now!
“Makes sense, especially if you’re still dealing with the stuff that made you start drinking in the first place,” Callie observes.
Her words are simple, yet profound. “That’s one way to put it.”
She takes another sip of her sweet tea.
“Is it okay?” I ask.
“Oh, yes. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I was sitting on the porch in Alabama, drinking my Great-Auntie Myrtel’s tea.”
“Your Great-Auntie Myrtel’s? I doubt it can be that good.”
“Well, I approve,” Callie says with a sunshiny grin, her bubblegum pink tongue darting out to wet her full bottom lip.
My insides groan at the gesture. All I can think about is leaning forward to taste her mouth, suck her bottom lip between mine, and tease her with my tongue.
She catches me staring, her cheeks warming. Yep, guilty as charged and almost unrepentant.
“Has letter writing helped with your sobriety journey?” she asks.
That’s a great question. Though I’m the wrong guy to ask. A rogue thought enters my head, darting straight for my tongue before I think better of it. “Any way I could get you to quit talking about those letters and start focusing on the present? You and me?”
The question says it all. I’m struggling with a way to move her past her ill-placed crush on Mack over to whatever’s blooming between us in the present. After all, those damn letters are the biggest single obstacle standing in our way.
I’ve got the man’s cabin, and I can even settle into “Mack” as a nickname, considering all my buddies call me McGregor anyway. And seeing as the timeline Mack fed her sounds like my own, that wouldn’t be a problem, either. But those goddamned letters and emails could spell out my misery if she continues to fixate on them.
“But your letters were beautiful, Mack. They’re half the reason I’m here.”
Well, there goes my heart …I frown, furrowing my brows.
“What’s wrong?” she whispers.
I open my mouth to correct, “I’m not Mack.” But something stops me—yearning. I need this woman.
Trying to find a way to be both straightforward and extend our conversation without her running off angrily, I observe, “The letters aren’t an accurate reflection of who I am, Callie. I don’t want you to be misled by them.”
“What do you mean?”
“They served their purpose. But I don’t want to hear about them anymore, alright?” My voice comes out like a growl.
Callie’s eyes round, and her eyebrows arch, the sunny expression wiped from her face. “Well, you don’t have to be such a grouch about it.”
“Maybe not, but I’m serious, okay?”
“Okay,” she says, pressing her lips tightly together. “You know, if this isn’t a good surprise, I can leave. I didn’t come here to upset you.”
“You’re not upsetting me,” I murmur gruffly, working to soften my expression. “Things have just been hectic lately.”
“Why?”
I open my mouth, ready to discuss moving. But it hits me like a ton of bricks. I can’t explain that to her either because she’s been addressing letters to this cabin for months now, and God only knows what Mack told her about how long he’s lived here. Deception curls around me like a vice-grip. Before I know it, I’ll be neck-deep in somebody else’s lies.
“There’s that sour expression again. Maybe I’d better go,” the gorgeous black woman says, hopping to her feet.
