Page 4 of Grumpy on the Mountain
"You were not standing anywhere but in your kitchen making those snickerdoodles," Etta shoots back with her own glare. "Jamie had his truck, and he—"
"Ladies," Betty interrupts gently, sliding the cookies toward me like a peace offering while the two women glare at each other across the table.
Mabel huffs. "It was Beau."
"Jamie," Etta mutters under her breath.
"Regardless of who fixed what," Betty continues with the patience of someone who's clearly refereed this type of argument before, "Beau's handy with just about everything. I'm sure he could help with that vehicle of yours out there."
"He's a good man," Etta says firmly. "Quiet, but good. Builds those beautiful cabins up on the ridge."
"Bit of a grump, though," Mabel adds cheerfully. "Hardly says two words to anyone."
I'm about to ask who this mysterious handyman-cabin-builder-slash-mechanic is when the bell above the door chimes again and the weirdest experience I've ever had happens.
In an instant, all conversation stops. Actually stops, like someone hit a pause button on the entire café.
I look up, cookie halfway to my mouth, and my brain promptly forgets how to function.
The man filling the doorframe is... enormous. And not just tall, butsubstantial… everywhere.
He has ridiculously broad shoulders that span the entire entrance, dark hair that's dusted with snow, and eyes the color of storm clouds that scan the room with the kind of awareness that suggests he notices everything and misses nothing.
And just as I thought might luck might have run out today… those striking eyes land on me.
Time stops.
I'm pretty sure my heart stops too.
My coffee cup freezes halfway to my lips, and I'm vaguely aware that I'm staring like an idiot, but I can't seem to make my brain send the "stop gawking at the handsome stranger" signal to my face.
Betty is grinning.Grinning.Like she just won some kind of cosmic lottery. Etta and Mabel exchange a look that can only be described as gleeful.
And the mountain god in the doorway is still looking directly at me.
Breathe, Molly. Breathing is important for survival.
But I can't breathe, because something is happening here. Something that feels like the universe just shifted on its axis, like all my terrible decisions and broken luggage and destroyed phones led me exactly here, to this moment, to this café, to this man who's looking at me like...
Like he knows me…?
But that's impossible.
Isn't it?
And then I feel it again—that urgent pressure between my legs.
Except now I'm not entirely sure if it's because I still desperately need to pee... or if it's something else entirely. Something that has everything to do with the way this stranger is staring at me like I'm the answer to a question he's been asking his whole life.
Chapter Two
Beau
Fuck.
That's Molly Jennings. My brother's girlfriend.
Sitting in Betty's café, honey-blonde hair escaping from what was probably supposed to be a neat bun this morning, moss-green eyes that are wide with the kind of surprise that comes from walking into a situation you're not equipped to handle.
