Page 7 of The Mountain Man's Mail Order Temptation
ELLIE
Okay.
Okay, okay, okay.
I am officially in over my head.
Anson Blackwood is the most terrifyingly hot man I’ve ever met. Not because he smiles—he doesn’t. Not because he flirts—he definitely doesn’t. But because when he looks at me, it’s like he’s debating whether to throw me over his shoulder or throw me out into the cold.
Right now, as I’m holding his knife in one hand and a slice of cheese in the other while he glowers at me, I’m pretty sure I know which way he’s leaning, and I’m not wearing a jacket.
I wiggle the hand with the knife—which is also the wrong thing to do apparently, because he steps closer until his chest brushes my back and grips my wrist to stop the movement. His fingers are warm on my skin, and I can’t help but notice how gentle the touch is. So different from Grant’s. My stomach feels like a thousand butterflies all took flight at once. I draw an unsteady breath and ask, “What’s a Ka-Bar?”
“A combat knife.”
How was I supposed to know? I mean, sure, the handle is bigger than most chef knives, but I figured it was a camping knife. “Well, it cuts great!”
He swears under his breath, low and growly, and gently takes the knife from me.“It’s very sharp. I don’t want it to cut you.”
Given his frown, I probably shouldn’t mention that I also used it as a butter knife.“If it isn’t a kitchen utensil, why was it in the drawer with the only two forks in this cabin?”
“Where else would you keep a knife?” Anson asks, as if I’m the one being illogical. He lays it by the sink, then opens another drawer and hands me a knife with holes in the middle of the blade. “Use this.”
I take the cheese knife, inspecting the blade. I know I shouldn’t tease a man so serious about his knives, but I can’t help poking the grumpy bear a little. “You sure this one hasn’t seen combat? It has holes.”
A muscle tics in his jaw. “Notyet.”
The emphasis makes me grin. His gaze drops to my mouth, and I swear the air changes between us, like the feeling before a thunderstorm. His eyes darken, the intensity of his gaze pinning me in place.
He’s so tall. If I stretched up on my tiptoes, could I kiss him? Would he want that? I sway forward, captured by the shadows in his eyes. Part of my brain is sending out caution signals, while the rest is wondering what it would be like to kiss Anson. Would his beard be scratchy or soft? Would his kiss be punishing, like Grant’s? Or tender?
Our bodies are inches away. Close enough to see the exact moment his walls slam down. He mutters a curse and steps back until half the kitchen is between us.
He didn’t want me to kiss him.
Of course he didn’t. I’m not sleek and gorgeous. I’m soft and curvy, and absolutely not what a man like him wants.
“Ellie…”
A heartbeat passes. Then another.
When he doesn’t say more, I realize he isn’t going to. My throat feels thick when I ask, “I hope you like grilled cheese and soup. You didn’t have a lot of options.”
“They’re fine.”
Awkward silence descends between us. I’d much rather have the teasing. Or heck, even the scowling, dangerous Anson standing so close I can smell his scent. Something woodsy, like oak and musk laced with pure pheromones. Mixed with that gruff vibe and almost lethal stare?
Dottie got one thing right. Anson Blackwood is not just hot—he’svillain hot.
The “kidnap the heroine without remorse, make her forget why she wanted to run from him, then burn down a city when someone dares to touch her” kind of hot.
Add in those broad shoulders and muscular arms. The glimpse I got of his ripped abs and other things further south…
I press a hand to my burning cheek, cheese, and knives forgotten. Why am I like this? He didn’t order a bride and doesn’t want me here. I shouldn’t want him to kiss me and maybe touch me. I need to either figure out a Plan B or try to make him like me enough to let me stay.
“Ellie,” Anson says, closer now. “You okay?”
I nod. No meltdowns here, just one-sided intense attraction. “Dinner. I need to finish dinner.” I return to the stove and stir the soup a few times. A can of chicken noodle and grilled cheese is not gourmet dining. If I can stay just one more day, I can go into the little town of White Falls and get some supplies. Maybe if I make him some muffins or cupcakes, he will soften toward me.
