Page 10 of The Mountain Man's Accidental Bride
The worst part? I can’t even resent him for the hesitation on my part. He never asked for this. Never asked for me.
I press my palms to my closed eyelids until colors bloom. This isn’t how it was supposed to be.
How am I supposed to look Walton in the eye now when I meet him tomorrow? Will I picture it’s August, when I’m ready to slip a ring on my finger, or will I be able to forget all about him once some time passes?
Dropping my hands to my lap, I let out a laugh.
All this time spent alone with him is getting to my head, that’s all. It’s completely normal to worry about someone, even a stranger. There’s no way I could fall for a man I’ve just met.
Not even Cupid’s Bloom Co. can promise something so outrageous. So, in short, I’mnotfalling for August.
The lights flicker back on, and it’s like a silent confirmation that makes me feel a little better.
The creak of the front door splinters through my thoughts. Before I can process relief—before I can even breathe—my body’s already turning, feet carrying me toward the sound like some gravitational pull I can’t resist. The frantic drum of my heart? It blurs into white noise.
I skid to a halt just steps away.
August stands there, rainwater sluicing off him in rivulets, the storm still clinging to his skin.
He nonchalantly shrugs off his coat, hanging it on the hook to dry. Just as I expect, the water has soaked through.
As soon as I take him in, I realize I’ve done something I shouldn’t. If I were just glancing at him, I’d be innocent. However, it’s not a brief sweep of my eyes. Rather, I’m drinking in his appearance like I’m dehydrated.
His shirt is plastered to every hard plane of his torso, translucent and unforgiving. Droplets cling to his lashes, his beard, the defiant line of his jaw. He drags a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and that’s when his gaze locks onto mine.
A bolt of heat sears through me, sudden and reckless, settling low in my stomach before I can smother it. My pulse isn’t just in my ears now—it’s everywhere, a wildfire under my skin.
He exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath too. Like he feels it, this thing between us that shouldn’t exist.Can’texist.
What’s right and what’s wrong isn’t exactly what I’m trying to think about now.
Realizing he has a pool of water forming at his boots, I tear my eyes away and turn. “I’ll grab a towel.”
Like a repeat of earlier, our roles reversed, I’m far less cool as I move toward his bathroom.
The heat in my stomach doesn’t disappear as I make distance between us. Rather, it throbs like being separated from each other is the problem.
I can not want a man I’ve just met. I can not offer my heart to a man who plans on kicking me out once the weather clears.
Now, if only my body could get on board with the sense of the situation before I do something stupid that I can’t take back.
The truth is, right now, I feel like I’m about to do something completely reckless.
4
August
The fire licks at my palms as I crouch closer to the fireplace, but it’s useless. The cold’s only skin-deep—only helping what’s causing the hairs on my arms to stand tall. The real problem’s beneath.
Her.
The way her breath hitched when our eyes locked. The flush crawling up her throat like she was standing too close to the flames before moving to greet me.
Even now, with her footsteps padding down the hall, I can still see it—the parted lips, the wide, dark pupils swallowing me whole, looking at me like I’m something else entirely.
I grit my teeth until my jaw aches. Even when I close my eyes, I can’t unsee the way she looked at me.
I’m out of my damn mind if I even think about letting my imagination get to my head.
