Page 2 of The Mountain Man's Curvy Obsession
Here we go.
I swing open the front door and catch my breath. “Is this a joke?”
Evangeline Hart, a ghost from my past, brings her hands to her mouth and gasps. “Are you kidding me?” She steps back.
I wipe my eyes, hoping this is a nightmare and I’m sleepwalking. But Eva is still there. Here. Standing at my door,in front of me, in the flesh, with that gorgeous face, those mysterious, beautiful grey eyes, and that outrageously curvy body. Trouble. I learned the hard way with her. She’s not worth the hassle, but my dick obviously missed the memo. It’s pressing against my zipper, like it has some kind of muscle memory, and wants to say, hi. “I didn’t sign up for this.” I bark. “No way.” I turn to shut the door, but she tugs at the back of my shirt.
“And you think I did?” She snaps. “You think I would actually agree to marry one of the worst mistakes of my life? There’s obviously been a major screw up.”
I take a deep breath and decide to give her another two seconds. “I thought you were in Houston with your cousin.”
“I was for a while, and then I met someone and moved to Missouri because his family was there, and we … well I …” She shrugs. “Super long, boring story, but it didn’t work out.”
“So you signed up to be a mail-order bride?” I ask, raising my voice incredulously. Jesus, I feel dizzy.
“Who are you to say anything? You obviously wanted this too. You signed on the dotted line, or I wouldn’t be here.” She snorts, and glances over her shoulder. “Are you going to let me in, or do you intend to keep Steve waiting in the driveway forever?”
Steve? I step outside to check if she’s hallucinating. I wouldn’t put it past her, but yes. There actually is a pickup truck parked in front of my house. I move back into my position at the door, blocking her entrance, with my jaw twitching and look her in the eye.
“I personally do not care what happens to you or Steve. I suggest you get into that dirty truck of his, get off my mountain and drive back to wherever you came from.”
Good. I sounded calm and reasonable and I can see my suggestion is registering in that brain of hers. “Bye-bye now.” I shoo her away with my hands. “Go on now. Have a nice life. Be on your way.”
“But I can’t!” She shrieks. “Don’t you get it? I have nowhere to go! What does it take to penetrate that thick head of yours? I hired Steve to pick me up at the train station.” Her expression softens, and she gives me one of her most charming smiles. She was always good at smiling. So annoying. “I guess I could’ve called you,” she says in a sexy, flirty voice. “If I’d known you were available and in the market for a bride, maybe I would have.” She teases. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“Do not attempt to make light of this situation.” I growl. “What we have here is an absolute disaster. There is no way in hell I’m letting you in my house.”
“Good grief.” She throws her head back dramatically. “You’ve always been such a grump. A full-out stubborn, capital G.R.U.M.P. and I see time hasn’t changed you one bit.” She turns and cups her hands around her mouth. “It’s okay, Steve,” she shouts. “Could you please bring my suitcases?”
I inhale through my nose, trying to contain my composure listening to Steve bang around on the bed of his truck with her luggage, I presume. I scowl at Eva and lock on. She breaks the stare first and slumps her shoulders.
“Please?” She bats her eyes at me. “Please, can I stay just for tonight? I’m seriously in a bind.”
“Hey guys,” Steve approaches us with two enormous suitcases, awkwardly appraising both of us. “Uh, sorry to interrupt.” He bites his lip with raised brows coming to the realization he just walked into a hornet’s nest. “Here you go.” He places two enormous suitcases on the porch with a thud.
“Thank you, Steve. You’re the best,” Eva says, with a soft smile.
“I appreciate the business. You’re already paid up, so unless there’s anything else, I’ll be on my way.’
“No, that’s all for now.” Eva sighs deeply and glances at me before saying, “But I might need to call you again soon for a lift back to the station.”
Steve shifts, having the nerve to eye me suspiciously. “Are you good here?” he asks Eva. “I don’t want to leave you in a bad situation or with anyone who makes you feel uncomfortable.”
I straighten to my full height of six four to give old Stevie boy a clue of what he’s dealing with if he’s in the mood to start trouble. “She’s fine. We know each other very well.”
“Slade’s right, Steve.” Eva shrugs. “He’s just a big grouch, my annoying ex, but I’m okay.”
Chapter three
“Come in,” he grunts, gesturing to the door. “Don’t get too comfortable.”
“Jeez,” I huff as he moves aside for me and I enter the house. “Why are you so mad at me? As far as breakups go, ours wasn’tthatterrible.” He harrumphs under his breath and marches to my luggage, lifts them like they’re pillows and walks past me without a word. I start to follow him, but pause to take in the living room’s hewn log walls, the soft light filtering through the windows. The pine floors gleam, the sturdy crossbeams overhead appear hand-carved, and the majestic stone fireplace on the far wall belongs in a magazine. It appears Slade’s done very well for himself.
“Bathroom’s in there.” Slade meets my eyes from the hallway and points to the left. Then he swings open the only other door in sight. By the time I catch up, he’s in the bedroom. “This is where you’re sleeping,” he says, setting the suitcases next to the closet.
I scan the room, appreciating my new surroundings—the simple quilt on the bed, the small oak dresser, and the window framing the view of a shimmering creek winding through the trees. I’m afraid he’ll change his mind and throw me out if I speak, so I only say, “Thank you. Thank you so much for letting me stay. It’s beautiful.” My eyes land on a jar of wildflowers on the nightstand, and my heart drops. He sure didn’t pick those for me, but there’s a part of me that wishes he had. What a thoughtful gesture.
Slade’s enormous frame stands at the door as his suspicious gaze tracks my every move. He’s more muscular than the last time I saw him. His facial features are more chiseled, his jaw is covered with black stubble, his dark hair is trim, but not too short; a few subtle curls brush his forehead. His mouth is a straight line. Now I notice he’s wearing new clothes. His blue plaid flannel shirt doesn’t look like it hasn’t been washed once, and his jeans aren’t faded in the least.
