Page 10 of Rugged Mountain Man
“Am not.”
“Are too.” She grins, playful and carefree, and it’s like a punch straight to the chest.
I crouch beside her, close enough to catch the soft scent of her skin, close enough to see the way her breath quickens. Her fingers dance over the water, creating tiny ripples that shimmer in the sunlight, and I can’t help but think she belongs here—like the mountains called her home, the same way they called me.
“You’re a mystery, you know that?” she says, her voice lighter, teasing. “What makes you tick, Cole?”
The corner of my mouth twitches, a slow grin threatening to form. “What makes me tick?”
She dips her head, glancing up at me from under those lashes, her smile all playful innocence. But there’s a spark in her eyes that tells me she’s enjoying this. “Yeah. Big mountain man, all gruff and growly. What gets you going?”
You. In this creek, on your knees, looking at me like that while I show you exactly what gets me going.
I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. “Quiet mornings. Strong coffee. People who know when to quit poking the bear.”
Her laugh is soft, melodic. “Guess that means I’m out of luck.”
“Seems like it,” I say, but my voice is rough, betraying just how much I want her to keep poking. To keep looking at me like she is now—like she’s daring me to do something about it.
She leans back on her hands, her body arching slightly as the sun catches in her hair. “You’ve got to give me something better than that,” she presses, her tone light, but her gaze sharp. “What really makes you tick?”
I lean in, just enough to let her feel the weight of my presence, enough to watch her breath hitch. “I like things simple, Sadie,” I say, my voice dropping. “Things that feel… right.”
Her lip’s part, the teasing glimmer in her eyes softening. “And does this feel right?”
Every damn inch of it. “You tell me.”
For a second, we just sit there, the sound of the creek filling the air between us. Her cheeks flush, and she dips her hand back into the water, breaking the moment.
“You must be hungry,” I say, standing abruptly before I do something stupid, like haul her into my arms and kiss her until she forgets why she ever thought the city was worth going back to. Hell, I’m starving—just not for food. “There’s a diner in town. Best cherry pie you’ll ever taste.”
She glances up at me, her lips curving into a smile. “Pie? After all this soul-searching, you’re tempting me with pie?”
I shrug, the grin I’ve been holding back finally breaking free. “What can I say? A man’s got to eat.”
Her laugh is soft and genuine. “Okay. Lead the way.”
I offer her my hand to help her up, and when her fingers curl around mine, the jolt of heat is instant, sharp. I don’t let go until she’s steady on her feet, and even then, I have to force myself to step back.
This woman has no idea what she’s doing to me. But she will. Soon.
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the smile she’s trying to hide. “Is this a date, then?”
The words are playful, but they hit me like a damn freight train. A date. I like the way it sounds. Too much. “Sure,” I say gruffly. “Call it that if you want.”
Her cheeks flush, the pink spreading across her skin like wildfire. And just like that, I’m serious. Dead serious. Because if this is a date, then it’s the only one she’s having from now on.
The diner is quiet, the kind of place where the biggest drama is when someone forgot to bring a cake to the bake sale. It’s why I like it. Everyone leaves you alone or at least they know to leave me alone. It’s been my spot for years, a place to grab coffee and sit unnoticed. But with Sadie across from me, it feels different. Like the walls are closer, the air warmer.
“Cherry pie,” I say, pointing to the board. “Best thing on the menu.”
She orders a slice, and when it arrives, she takes a bite that makes her eyes flutter shut.
“Oh my God,” she moans, low and husky. “This is… amazing.”
I grip the edge of the table, my pulse spiking. She has no idea what that sound does to me, but if she keeps making it, I’m going to have to excuse myself before I do something about it.
“It’s just pie,” I manage.
