Page 12 of Comforted By The Mountain Man
"What?"
"Nothing." I clear my throat. "Hand me that wrench."
She passes it over, our fingers brushing as she does. The contact is brief, probably accidental, but it sends electricity up my arm. Sierra's eyes meet mine for just a moment before she looks away, a flush creeping up her neck.
So, I'm not the only one feeling this pull.
"Tell me about Ryder," I say, desperate for a safer topic. "He seems like a good kid."
Her face transforms when she talks about her son, the careful mask dropping away. "He's amazing. So smart, so curious about everything. He loves superheroes and bugs and asking a million questions about how things work."
"Sounds exhausting."
She laughs, the sound rich and genuine. "It is. But it's also wonderful. He sees magic in everything, you know? Makes me remember what that's like."
"What happened to his father?" The question is out before I can stop it, too blunt, too personal.
Sierra's face shudders immediately. "He's not in the picture."
The flat finality of her tone tells me that topic is definitely off limits. Which only makes me more curious about what kind of man would walk away from a woman like Sierra and a kid like Ryder.
"Turn the pipe a quarter turn to the right," I instruct, refocusing on the task at hand.
We finish the repair in relative quiet, testing the connections and checking for leaks. When I turn the water main back on, the pipes shudder to life with only a minor complaint from the old system.
"That should hold," I say, packing up my tools. "Though you'll want to replace the whole section eventually. This is more of a bandage than a cure."
"How much will that cost?" The worry in her voice is immediate, real.
"Don't worry about it right now. This'll work fine for a while."
Sierra stands, brushing dust off her jeans. "I should pay you for this. For your time."
"No payment necessary."
"Asher." She uses my name for the first time without the formality and I like the way it sounds in her voice. "I can't keep accepting charity. I need to contribute something."
The pride in her voice reminds me of my offer earlier. The job that I haven't cleared with my brothers yet.
"Actually," I say, "if you're serious about the bookkeeping work, that dinner invitation for later still stands. My brothers will be there, so we can talk to Ezra. He runs our distillery,handles most of the financial side. He's been drowning in paperwork since tax season."
Hope flickers in her eyes before uncertainty takes over. "What about Ryder? I can't leave him alone and I don't know anyone here to watch him."
"Bring him. Beckett and Grace love kids. Grace has been collecting children's books and art supplies, says she wants to be ready when kids come around. Ryder would probably love the attention."
"I don't know..." She worries her lower lip between her teeth. "It's a lot to ask."
"It's not asking. It's family helping family. That's how things work around here."
"We're not family."
"You're my neighbor. That makes you family enough."
She studies my face like she's trying to read my motives, and I can see the exact moment her walls go back up. "I've had men make promises before," she says quietly, her voice losing its warmth. "Tell me what they think I want to hear. It never ends well."
The pain in her voice hits me square in the chest. Someone hurt her. Badly. And now she's looking at me like I might be just another man with pretty words and selfish intentions.
"I'm not making promises," I say carefully. "I'm offering dinner. One meal, with my family present, where we talk about work. If you decide it's not what you want, you walk away. No strings, no pressure, no consequences."
