Page 23 of Harvested By The Mountain Man
Chapter 20
Hannah
The first pale light filters through the curtains when I wake. For a moment, I don’t know where I am. Memory crashes back. Levi’s cabin and our kiss in the hallway that may have left a memory imprint on my lips. The way he carried me here like I weighed nothing, tucking me in with promises of protection.
I slip into the hallway, careful not to wake Ivy. My bare feet sink into the braided rug, and the scent of fresh coffee teases me closer to the kitchen. On the counter, a full pot waits. A timer light blinks on the machine. He set it up last night for automatic brew.
I pour a mug, wrapping both hands around it. He doesn’t just protect. He anticipates needs. I like that.
I rummage through the pantry until I find a box of granola bars and an apple. Not exactly a feast, but enough to get Ivy moving. Nothing about this is my normal. I’m packing a quickbreakfast in another man’s kitchen. A man I can’t stop thinking about.
When I lean against the counter to sip my coffee, my thoughts wander where they shouldn’t. Back to last night. The press of Levi’s mouth on mine. The way my body reacted, melting right into him. My skin heated from the feel of his bare chest pressed against me.
I close my eyes, remembering too much. The sight of him standing in the hall in nothing but his briefs with broad shoulders filling the space, muscles taut from work, six-pack abs ridged and hard.
Strong thighs … the kind that belong to a man who can carry both a woman and all her fears without breaking stride. And he carried me. He carried me like I was his to protect, his to hold.
But along with that magical moment comes the cold memory of Jake with his smug face and his claim on a daughter he barely knows. Ivy has no memory of him. He’s a complete stranger to her. Jake never handled confrontation well. While he never hurt me physically, I always had the sense that it could happen.
That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m pouring coffee in Levi’s kitchen instead of in my own.
I shake my head, forcing myself back to the task at hand. Ivy first. School first. Keep things as normal as possible for her.
I move upstairs and down the hall, gently pushing open the door to her room. She’s curled under the quilt with her rabbit tucked under her chin, breathing soft and even. My heart aches at the innocence in her face.
“Time to wake up, sweetheart,” I whisper, brushing her hair back from her forehead. “We’ve got school today.”
She stirs, blinks up at me, and rubs her eyes. “Do we still get pancakes?”
A smile tugs at my mouth despite everything. “Let’s let Levi take a rain check. He’s not up yet and we need to hurry.”
♥♥♥
Levi’s truck rumbles as we pull into the school lot. Ivy chatters in the back seat, clutching her rabbit, but her smile is bright when she spots two of her friends.
“I’ll walk her in.” The thought of Jake lurking anywhere near makes my stomach twist.
He nods, jaw tight. “I’ll be right here.”
Inside, I talk with the staff, making sure they understand the situation, and that Ivy isn’t to leave with anyone but me. They reassure me and promise extra care. I check her classroom window before I return outside.
Levi is waiting, engine idling, gaze fixed on the doors until I appear.
“Thank you,” I say, sliding into the passenger seat. “For being here. For all of this. I know it’s taking up your time. You’ve got your own work, your own life, and here I am with all these issues.”
“Stop.” His voice is firm but not unkind, and when I look up his blue eyes pin me in place. “You’re not a burden, Hannah. I want to be here … with you, with her. Don’t ever apologize for letting me help.”
The words lodge deep inside me. I don’t know what comes over me. Maybe it’s the conviction in his tone or the memory I can’t shake of that kiss last night -- but suddenly, I’m sliding across the seat toward him.
I kiss him. Not a quick brush but a long, lingering press of lips, one hand curling behind his neck, fingertips massaging lightly at the nape. His low sound of approval rumbles against my mouth, and for a moment I forget we’re parked in front of a school. I forget everything except the heat curling between us.
When I finally pull back, I feel breathless, but say nothing more all the way while he takes me to work.
“Goodbye,” I whisper, though the word feels inadequate. I grab my bag and step down from the truck, forcing myself to turn toward Millie’s Mountain Café across the street. The bell above the door jingles as I push inside, the familiar scent of coffee and cinnamon wrapping around me.
Something prickles at the back of my neck. I glance over my shoulder … not at Levi, but at the rows of cars along Main Street. My gaze sweeps across vehicles, the shops, and the street corner. I don’t see anything that stands out to me.
But a chill runs up my spine anyway, sharp and certain, as if someone just walked over my grave.
