Page 10 of Comforted By The Mountain Man
His body gives a slight jerk from the unexpected contact. I let go immediately and turn around, busying myself with the gallon of water to try and clean out the burned pot.
A heavy silence coated with unspoken words settles into the kitchen before he clears his throat.
“If it’s okay, I’ll head to the bathroom and get started.”
“Sure,” I say, nervously scrubbing.
His heavy booted steps grow distant before my boy’s enthused voice starts peppering Asher with questions.
And there’s that light again that only my Ryder can shine, even when darkness tries to suffocate my edges.
4
ASHER
The bathroom looks like a disaster zone, and I've seen my share of those. Water damage spreads across the floor in dark stains, the wallpaper peeling in places where the moisture soaked through. The broken pipe juts from the wall like a severed artery, rusty water stains marking where the chaos began.
I should focus on the plumbing. Should keep my mind on shutoffs and pipe fittings and anything other than the memory of Sierra standing naked in my arms seven hours ago.
But my brain isn't cooperating. Every time I close my eyes, I see her curves outlined in moonlight, feel the way she fit perfectly against me before that towel hit the floor. The soft gasp she made when she realized what happened. The way her eyes met mine without shame, only surprise.
I shake my head and grab my toolbox from the truck. Work. Focus on work. Fix the damn pipe and get out of here before I do something stupid like offer to solve all her problems.
Except I already did that, didn't I? Offered her a job without even talking to my brothers first. What the hell was I thinking?
I strip off my shirt, tossing it over the doorframe. The bathroom is small, and the work's going to be messy. No point in ruining good clothes. I've got spare parts in the truck that should get the water running again, at least temporarily. A real fix will take more time, more materials.
More time around Sierra Martinez.
I'm elbow deep in the wall cavity, trying to trace the damaged section of pipe when I hear small footsteps approaching. Light, quick steps that can only belong to one person.
"Wow," comes a small voice from the doorway. "Your muscles are really big."
I turn to find Ryder standing in the bathroom entrance, his Hulk toy clutched in one hand, eyes wide as he takes in my exposed torso. There's no fear in his expression, just the pure curiosity of a child.
"Yeah, I guess they are," I say, sitting back on my heels. Kid's barely up to my waist when I'm kneeling.
"Are you strong like the Hulk?" Ryder steps closer, completely unafraid. "Can you lift a car?"
Despite everything, I find myself fighting back a smile. "Probably not a car. Maybe a motorcycle."
"What about a truck?" His eyes light up with excitement. "Can you smash things when you get angry?"
"Ryder," Sierra's voice carries from the kitchen, slightly strained. "Leave Mr. Asher alone to work."
But the kid ignores her, moving closer to inspect my tools. "What's that thing do?" He points to my pipe wrench.
"It's for gripping pipes," I explain, surprised by my own patience. Normally, I don't have time for kids' questions. Don't have time for kids, period. But something about Ryder's genuine interest makes me want to answer. "See how the teeth bite down when you turn it?"
"Cool!" He reaches out like he wants to touch it, then pulls his hand back. "Mama says I can't touch grown-up tools."
"Smart mama," I agree. "These can hurt if you don't know how to use them."
"But you know how, right? 'Cause you're like the Hulk, but nice."
Before I can respond to that assessment, Sierra appears in the doorway. Her eyes sweep over me, and I catch the exact moment she notices my bare chest. Her pupils dilate slightly, her lips parting just enough to draw my attention to her mouth.
The same mouth I had my hands near last night. The same lips that looked so soft in the moonlight.
