Page 4 of Her Mountain Man Secret
ISABELLE
We followWyatt as he guides us around the cabin, showing us every room, each more rustically charming than the last. But I’m struggling to concentrate on my surroundings.
I can’t believe this guy is my dad’s old best friend.
When I walked up the porch steps and saw him for the first time, towering in the doorway like a giant, my knees almost buckled. I steal another glance at him now, while he’s busy pointing out something to my dad. My breath catches all over again.
There’s no escaping the truth…
Wyatt is stupidly handsome.
He’s six and a half feet of thick, solid muscle, his broad shoulders straining against the flannel shirt he’s wearing. A thick russet beard covers the lower half of his handsome face, and I let my gaze wander up past his strong nose to his pale blue eyes—the color of morning mist rolling over the mountains. Deep frown lines etch his face, his thick brows furrowing in a way that suggests he’s not the kind of guy who smiles a lot. But it’s not just his grumpiness that intrigues me—there’s a wildness about him, something raw and masculine that seems to exude from every pore. A man raised by the mountains.
I hear my dad ask something about the cabin’s electricity, and Wyatt’s reply is a deep rumble, sending a shudder through me. I’m not paying attention to the words, just the sound of his voice, and I’m surprised when they both suddenly turn to look at me.
“Sorry, what did you say?” I ask, heat crawling up my cheeks.
“We want to know if you’re okay sleeping in here,” Dad says, raising an eyebrow.
I take a cursory look around the room. It’s small but cozy, with a double bed and a closet in the corner. Like the rest of the cabin, every surface is made of wood, the scent of pine hanging in the air.
“Sure! Looks great.”
Dad frowns at me for a moment before turning back to Wyatt, asking something else about the cabin. He must be able to tell I’m acting weird. I’ve never been good at hiding my feelings, and I hope he doesn’t notice the way I’m looking at Wyatt. I know it’s wrong. He’s twice my age—my dad’s old friend—but I can’t help the heat burning between my legs every time our eyes meet. I’ve never seen a man like Wyatt before. Rugged giants like him don’t exist in the suburbs. He’s a walking fantasy and totally impossible to ignore.
I take a deep breath and force myself to listen to what they’re saying, keeping my eyes on the room instead of Wyatt.
“…last year, so the cabin shouldn’t need too much work,” he’s saying to my dad. “I did my best to keep it in good shape for Ralph. Could do with some modernization though. Might help us sell the place faster.”
Dad considers him. “You think we should sell, then?”
“Sure.” Wyatt cocks his head. “I assume you do, too?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. We’ll sell up and split the proceeds. Just need to spruce the place up first. Won’t take long.”
“Will a week be enough to fix everything?”
Wyatt nods. “Should be if we work fast.”
“That okay with you, Izz?” Dad looks at me. “If we stay here for a week and fix the place up?”
I feel something buzz in my chest at the thought of spending a week here with Wyatt, but a pang of guilt quickly drowns out the thought.
Focus. You’re here to help Dad, remember?
“Sounds like a good plan,” I say.
For a second, I swear I see Wyatt’s lip quirk beneath his beard, but when I look at him again a moment later, his expression is a mask.
“There’s another guestroom across the hall,” he tells Dad. “Make yourselves at home. Must have been a long journey.”
I check the time on my phone, surprised to see that it’s nearly midnight. We left Denver at five p.m. after Dad closed the auto shop, expecting to arrive at the cabin by ten. But the traffic was awful leaving the city, and we had to stop for food and gas, so the journey ended up taking much longer than planned. I should probably be tired after spending so long on the road, but I feel wide awake, adrenaline fizzing in my veins every time I catch Wyatt’s eye. Dad is clearly pooped, though. He yawns deeply, grabbing his keys.
“I’ll go get our luggage out of the truck,” he mumbles. “Back in a minute.”
Suddenly, he’s gone, and I’m alone with Wyatt. It feels like the walls of the guestroom are pressing in on me, squeezing my lungs. Wyatt’s pale blue eyes fix on mine, and I flash him an awkward smile, my heart somersaulting in my chest.
