Page 3 of The Mountain Man's Curvy Obsession
Is that his cologne? I try not to be obvious and sniff. Hmm, maybe it’s his shampoo? Whatever it is, smells like fresh soap, pine trees and something indescribable and exotic. Slade always was delicious. My attraction to him was never a problem—no. The real issue at the moment is he dressed up forsomeone else. He was hoping to impress his potential new bride, and then I showed up and disappointed him.
“I suppose you haven’t eaten?” He snaps at me for no good reason like I committed a crime he has to deal with.
“There wasn’t any food on the train.”
“I’m going to throw a frozen pizza in the oven.” He strides out the door and I trail behind him into the main living area.
“I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”
Slade slowly turns and checks me out again from the top of my head to my toes, for what seems like an hour.
“Well, how kind of you.” He sneers. “But it’s a little late. You’ve already flipped my world upside down, and you haven’t been here for more than five minutes.” I detect a hint of amusement, a slight twitch at the corner of his left upper lip, and feel a warm rush of hope slide into my veins.
“I get it.” I sigh, scanning the space, hoping he won’t dwell on the subject of my being such a major disappointment. I still can’t believe I’m actually in Slade Stone’s house.Boy did that mail-order bride service blow it.I recognized the mountain as soon as Steve took the turn and we started climbing. But when Slade and I were dating, he still lived with his family and their home is on the other side of the ridge. My parents had a place nearby before they moved to Boise. “You never told me your family had so much land.”
He peers down his nose at me. “I sure wasn’t keeping it a secret, if that’s what you’re implying,” he states flatly. “It’s been in my family for over a hundred years.”
“Oh. No. Sorry, I wasn’t trying to imply anything.”Damn is he touchy. I force a cheerful smile. “You used to talk about having your own cabin. Did you build this place yourself?”
“I completed the project two years ago.”
“You did a fantastic job; the fireplace is spectacular.”
“I built it with rocks I found by the creek,” his voice warms with pride as he nods toward the small cast-iron wood stove tucked in the corner. “And that also puts out a lot of heat in the winter.”
We move to the kitchen, just off the main room, our footsteps echoing softly over the pine planks he no doubt spent weeks laying. I stroll to the sink and turn on the faucet before I realize what I’m doing. Water gushes out, clear and steady, and I spin to him.
“You even have running water. I thought maybe you’d have to carry it up from the creek.” His chocolate-brown stare softens,and in an instant, I’m whisked back in time to five years ago, when Slade was still mine.
He chuckles, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms in front of his big, burly chest, obviously amused. “Of course I do. There’s an intake pipe with a filter in the creek. That’s connected to a pump that delivers the water to a treatment system, so it’s purified before entering the plumbing.”
I raise a brow. “Impressive.”
“Just because I live in the mountains doesn’t mean I’m an animal.” He doesn’t take his eyes off me.
“Only sometimes,” I tease, remembering the way he used to kiss me like a starving man who could never get his fill of me. I shake my head, forcing myself to try to forget our past.
***
Slade has to be on the job at dawn, so we called it an early night. Even if he didn’t have to work, I doubt we would’ve stayed up late. We ate our pizza in silence, and I was in my pajamas before nine.
I slept so soundly, when I woke up, I didn’t know where I was. The bed was so comfortable, and the sound of rain pattering against the window lulled me to sleep like a song. It’s still raining, but that’s spring in Montana—you never know what kind of weather you’ll get. Who knows? We could see snow up here on the ridge, which is one of the reasons I set the alarm to make Slade breakfast.
He needs his nourishment, and last night’s pizza doesn’t cut it. He and his brothers work as linemen in some of the most remote, forested areas of the country. They’re so good at it, they formed their own company. The state of Montana contracts with them to handle the most dangerous jobs. They have to hike in carrying heavy equipment, in brutal terrain, and do anythingand everything to maintain the infrastructure to keep the power on. He started apprenticing when we were dating. We were both twenty-two.
My stomach churns just thinking of what terrible things could happen to him if he lost his footing—or if something that wasn’t supposed to be powered had some kind of surge. We broke up when we were twenty-five, and here I am six years later, in his house, still worrying about him.
I remind myself Slade knows what he’s doing, and I’ve never seen him in a situation he couldn’t handle—except for the one he’s in right now. The predicament we’rebothin. I stifle a laugh. My being here is crazy, but a home-cooked breakfast makes everything better.
The biscuits are already baking, and the aroma coming from the oven is making my mouth water. I check the fridge and discover fresh eggs—what a treat. After snatching a few, I crack the eggs into a bowl and whip the gorgeously orange yolks with a quick flick of my wrist, adding a splash of milk. Hope he still likes them scrambled. He’s probably used to cooking for himself, because I also score and find sausage links. I fry them in the only skillet I can find, humming softly, and I’m startled by a sharp knock on the door.
My shoulders tense, and I freeze mid-stir. Should I answer it? I start down the hall, wiping my hands on my apron, to tell Slade he has a guest, but hear the shower running in the bathroom. I tiptoe to the window, peering through the curtain, and see it’s his equally burly older brother Zephyr who looks ready for a moon landing, dressed in a beige jumpsuit and heavy boots, obviously protective gear for the job.
He catches me staring, his dark brows lift, and it takes him a second to realize who I am. I rush to open the door. “Zephyr! It’s so good to see you.”
“What on God’s green earth are you doing here?” I can tell he doesn’t know whether to run away or hug me. Time has been good to him, but I detect more grey in his once all-black head of hair. He’s around forty-seven now.
“It’s okay to give me a hug. I’m not a ghost, and your brother and I aren’t fighting at the moment.” I give him a quick friendly embrace and feel one of his big hands awkwardly pat me on the back. “Come in and get out of the rain. You’re just in time for breakfast.”
