Page 6 of Picked By the Mountain Man
As reactive as she was to that kiss, I doubt she would kowtow to those kinds of demands. She’s already proven how feisty she is and willing to stand up for herself the day she moved in and we had words. No, I’ll have to ease her into it.
When we finish eating, I drive her over to her place in my side-by-side. Before we leave, I give her a pair of my slippers and a flannel to wear, and damn it if she isn’t more adorable bundled up, looking cozy in my much too large gear.
When I pull up to the old farmhouse, I see red as my eyes narrow on the dilapidated building. It looks like a stiff wind would blow it over, and there’s plastic where windows should be. I can’t believe she’s been staying in this place, and with no water to boot.
“You can’t stay here,” I blurt, completely forgetting my plan to ease her into things.
“I already am. Besides, it’s not like I have much choice.” She clenches her jaw.
I shake my head. “Now you do. Get your things, you can come stay at my place.”
Her arms cross over her chest. “I’ve been just fine here. Just because you kiss like a god doesn’t mean you can boss me around.”
My eyes fall closed as I inhale a deep breath, needing to get my shit under control, but also taking no small satisfaction in the fact she thinks I kiss like a god. “Look, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just upset at finding out the conditions you’ve been staying in are even worse than I thought. I’m sorry. Will you please come stay with me where it’s warm and you can have all the water you want? You can have your own space in the guest room. Tomorrow we can come over and look at the water situation and see what I can do to make this place more habitable. Please?”
Her lips press together as I give her my best puppy-dog eyes in an attempt to sway her.
She finally nods, and my shoulders sag with relief.
“Thank you. Now let’s get you packed up.”
Chapter Seven
Becca
Keaton, true to his word, brings me back to his place and sets me up in the guest room. Then we watch an action movie while cuddling together, which surprises me because he doesn’t seem like the cuddling type. But it’s amazing being wrapped up in big arms, so completely cozy.
After the movie, he leaves me with another toe-curling kiss at my door when we go to bed. I try to tell myself it’s a good thing. He’s being a gentleman, and I don’t need to go falling at his feet, but I’m more disappointed than I should be. It also leaves me thrumming with desire, which leads to a long, restless night of little sleep.
After breakfast, which he makes, we go straight over to the farmhouse. He’s been looking things over and assessing what needs to be done to make the place livable, as he puts it, ever since. While he inspects what feels like every board and nail, I’ve been busy using the opportunity to study him instead, watching his muscles flex as he tests the integrity of the structure.
He is all man, a salt of the earth kind of guy, nothing pretentious about him. One who knows how to work with his hands, fixing things and taking care of not only himself but others too. I’ve got to say there’s more than a little appeal in it, especially after my ex who wouldn’t know an axe from a hoe.
I have a feeling there isn’t anything Keaton couldn’t take on. He’s now scrutinizing the plumbing, looking for the reason there isn’t any water. He starts with the small shed, which is the pump house apparently, explaining it contains the pump which draws water from a well.
Satisfied the device is in working order and the well is not dry, he moves on to following the underground trail of pipe, which should be carrying water to the house.
We’re almost to the house when he stops, pointing to a spot on the ground. “Look, see how the ground is wet here.” I nod, and he continues. “This might be the problem. You probably have a leak. Do you have a shovel?”
“Yes, there are some in the equipment shed,” I confirm and head to the nearby red metal barn, which houses tools and equipment. I grab two from the wall where they hang. He raises an eyebrow at me. “What?”
“You planning on digging?”
I shrug. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s my property. I’m not going to stand back and let someone else do all the work.”
“It’s hard work, just thought you might want to let other people handle it.”
My chin raises and my eyes narrow. “I’m not afraid of hard work.”
“I’ve noticed, and I’ll say you’ve impressed and surprised me.”
My cheeks heat at his approval, not that I need it. I’m doing this for me and to stand on my own two feet for once, but the praise leaves me with butterflies.
We begin digging at the spot he thought might have a leak. Keaton shovels two scoops to my every one as I keep up the best I can.
We’ve dug almost four feet when he says, “You’ll want to be careful now. We’re probably getting close to the pipe.”
But the warning comes too late as I stab the head of the shovel into the dirt with all my might to break through the hard-packed earth. There’s a crack as the blade sinks into the soil, and a funnel of water sprays upwards.
