Page 15 of The Mountain Man's Accidental Bride
During our rounds of poker, he’s made it obvious that he can make it impossible to know what he’s thinking.
What about when he’s vulnerable? Is there a difference there?
Figuring that it’s only fair if I meet him halfway, I scooch a little closer and lightly brush my fingers along his arm. His skin prickles up against my nails.
“I wasn’t lying about what I said to you before. I really do want somewhere quiet and peaceful.” Sucking on my teeth, I soon sigh. “You know, lots of the brides are running away from something. You should cut them some slack.”
He turns, making the whole bed shake as he gets closer. “What are you running away from?”
Ugh. Can’t even let me work my way up to it.
“I’m not running from anything. I just… I just want to find someone who wants me around.” I grimace when my voice cracks. “I mean, back where I came from, I felt like I took up too much space. Out here, it’s nothing but open air. I can finally breathe.”
I feel lame explaining myself, but he doesn’t stop to laugh. Instead, he listens.
“Don’t get much service up here, you know.” Like he can’t help himself, I feel the brush of his fingers against my hip. “Passing time with cards is on a small list of things to do. You’ll get bored.”
“Not if I have company. Someone who isn’t boring next to me.” Unable to help it, I roll my eyes. Should I ask him if he’s the boring type, or is that a tease too much?
The weight against my hip disappears, and there’s a pause. I didn’t upset him, did I?
“Payton…”
My name rumbles from his chest like a confession, weighted and deliberate. The air between us thickens, each second stretching taut until I hear the sharp click of the light switch.
Golden light floods the space, and suddenly I can see everything. The way his brows knit together, carving lines of quiet conflict across his forehead. His jaw works, like he wants to say something, but the words don’t come out fast enough.
Sitting up, I try to think about what happened, what I’ve done wrong. “Hey, I was just joking. You’re probably not boring. I mean—”
His hand rises, fingers brushing against my cheek with a tenderness that betrays his harsh persona. The calloused pad of his thumb traces the curve of my cheek.
“Iamboring, Payton.” His voice is rough, a low rasp that scrapes against my ribs. “I’m an asshole—you’ve seen it yourself. I’m the worst.” A bitter laugh escapes him, but his touch remains achingly gentle. “But Walton Green? I know that man. He’s quiet. A good guy. He won’t drive you off this mountain.”
My breath hitches. Why is he doing this? Why is he pretending not to see what’s screaming between us? The air thickens, pressing against my skin like the weight of all the things he won’t say.
“He probably wouldn’t try to keep me on it either, would he?” My voice is barely above a whisper, but it cracks. I lean into his touch, my laugh dissolving into a sigh. “But you would, wouldn’t you?”
I know I’m risking making this man think I’m completely unhinged. And maybe I am. But I’ve always been the kind of woman who follows her gut, even when it leads me straight off a cliff.
I left everything behind because something in Willowbrook Ridge called to me—a whisper in the wind, a pull in my chest,a promise of something more. Right now, that same instinct is screaming at me to chase it. To reach for him, for this wild, untamed possibility, before it slips through my fingers.
His touch is so soft it aches. His voice is rough, like gravel and honey, scraping over my skin and settling deep in my bones. I can’t help the goosebumps that prickle along my skin
“Payton.” Just my name, but it sounds like a vow. “I’d move mountains if it meant making you want to stay.”
My next breath catches in the back of my throat, and my heart is fluttering in ways I’ve never experienced with someone before.
His grip tightens like he’s already afraid I’ll slip away. “You want happiness? Let me be the one to give it to you. I might not get it right on the first try, and I’m rough around the edges; there’s no point in pretending that I’m not. But if you stay here and give me a chance, even if it’s a test to see if you can put up with me, I’ll do whatever.”
At what point will he realize that he doesn’t have to prepare me for anything? If I didn’t want him, I wouldn’t be itching to get closer to him with every word that leaves his lips. I don’t just want his hands cradling my face; I want him to touch me elsewhere, too.
I watch as the conflict passes over his expression. While my experience is limited, he’s so rusty that he’s overthinking the whole thing. “What if I asked you to kiss me again?”
A low, ragged sound escapes him. “I’d do it in a heartbeat, but I don’t have the strength to stop at a kiss a second time.”
My toes curl tightly at what he’s suggesting. I smile, tilting my face up until our lips are a breath apart. “Good. Then don’t. I mean, I don’t know how else to spell it out to you, August. I wantyou.That includes kisses and everything that comes with it.”
He makes a choking sound, as if he can’t believe his ears. Pulling away, he sits up to take me in. Searching my face like he’ll find all the answers he needs to his questions, he blinks.
