Page 8 of Healing with the Mountain Man
After settling in for a few days, he takes me to the library to steal their internet.
He doesn’t pay any attention to the cute woman putting the books away, opting to watch me instead while I work on my laptop. He’s not even trying to be sneaky about it.
The library is full of books of every interesting genre, but Dean’s gaze doesn’t wander to the shelves. It stays fixed on me, heavy and unrelenting, as if I’m the only story he wants to read.
“If you have any errands to run, now would be the perfect time,” I say, my voice too tight, too forced. “Downloading all of these lecture videos is going to take a minute.”
A flimsy excuse, but I need the distance before I do something reckless—like reaching over the table to trace that faint, knowing smirk of his with my fingertips.
I should want him to leave because he’s the definition of a distraction. Truthfully, I don’t.
Every accidental brush of his leg against mine sends a jolt through me. Whenever I steal a glance—just to check if he’s still watching—his smile isn’t little at all. It’s slow. Intentional. As if he’s been waiting for me to catch him.
He’s such a tease, even when he doesn’t mean to be. And he doesn’t, I’m sure of it.
All those touches of his always lead to nothing. It’s beyond frustrating.
“I’m not in any hurry. Take your time.” He shifts, leaning back in his chair before crossing his arms. If it’s not the flex of his muscles that catches my attention, it’s the faded white lines that do. He has lots of scars. Dad had them too.
Pursing my lips, I try to narrow my attention back to my laptop. Knee bouncing, I feel the light tap of his boot against my sneaker. Writing it off as accidental, my toes curl anyway.
Even if I tell myself not to let it go to my head, it does. My crush on him only continues to grow.
* * *
“Pick anything you want.” Now in his truck, we roam the streets of the small town. “The options aren’t as vast as you’re used to, I’m sure, but there’s always something good to eat for lunch around here.”
I’m scrolling my phone, hoping something will pop out. In truth, I don’t mind another home-cooked meal.
Maybe he’s tired of cooking? I can always try to cook him something one of these days. I’ll have to print off a few recipes the next time we’re at the library. Something that’ll knock his socks off.
“How about Fiesta del Sabor?” I tap on their menu and scroll through the options. “Haven’t had a taco in a minute.”
“Decent food. Family-run business that’s tucked away.” He hums in consideration. He taps his fingers against the wheel like there’s a possible chance he wouldn’t want this before nodding. Long enough to make me wonder if he actually isn’t a fan of the food. Finally, “Let’s do it.”
Before I know it, I’m being sat down by a friendly waitress with a soft voice and being handed a menu with too many delicious-sounding options to count.
“Order whatever you want.” Dean looks over his menu, telling me which things he’s tried and which he’s curious about. “I’ve been here a few times. It’s been an experience every time.”
His gaze lifts for a moment, and I can’t tell if he’s appreciating the decor around us or searching for something in particular. It’s just a flicker of a glance, but my curiosity grows.
He tells me which he’s liked the most, so I order it without missing a beat. When he chuckles, I can’t even try to hide my flush as our menus are taken away.
I’m totally trying to fool myself here, but this kind of feels like a date. Can I pretend that’s what we’re doing?
Would the idea of calling this one turn Dean off, or would his mouth twitch into a smile?
I don’t have time to humor the idea, not when our meal comes steaming and smelling like paradise.
Groaning as the food hits my tongue, it’s as delicious as it looks. I have to eat slowly to appreciate each bite before I accidentally start shoveling it inside to get more.
Dean watches, amusement filling his eyes. He doesn’t even bother putting his attention on his meal, like he’s not even hungry. He’s more interested in me enjoying mine.
He makes it impossible for a blush not to crawl up my throat.
“Try some, seriously.” I motion for him to eat. “I don’t want to be the only one pigging out here.”
“We can get more if you like it that much.” The corners of his eyes crinkle, but he does as I ask and starts eating.
