Page 3 of Snug with the Mountain Man
Fuck.
I take the nail and wood out of her hands. “You’re going to end up with splinters if you keep this up.”
She tips her head back and laughs. That sound goes straight through me, hot and sharp.
The porch board shifts under her sneakers. She wobbles with a squeak.
I react without thinking, one hand snapping to her waist, pulling her into me before she falls. She lands against my chest, soft and warm, looking up at me with wide eyes.
My palm covers her side, thumb brushing bare skin where her shirt rides up. Her breath hitches. My body answers before my brain can.
I should let go. I don’t. Not right away.
Her lips part. “See? Strong hands.”
The words scrape through me, rough and dangerous.
I drop my hold like I’ve been burned, stepping back fast. “Stay off the porch until I fix it.”
She grins as if I've given her exactly what she wanted. “Yes, sir.”
My cock jerks at the way she says it. My jaw locks so hard it aches.
“Maisie—”
She smiles wider, eyes bright. “What? I’m only following orders.”
I turn before I do something I’ll regret. But as I head down the steps, I can still feel the heat of her waist under my palm, soft skin and temptation I have no business touching.
I’m in trouble.
Chapter three
Maisie
The next morning, I wake up to pale light sliding through the blinds. For a while, I just lie there under my grandmother’s quilt, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet.
It feels good and terrifying, because it means I’m really here, not just passing through.
By noon, my stomach reminds me that I can’t live off tea and apples forever. I only got the essentials the day before. If I don’t make a trip into town, dinner will be toast.
The square is busier today, with people weaving in and out of shops, carrying coffees and bags of produce. Dottie’s has basketsof squash and jars of apple butter lined out front, a makeshift fall display that looks like it belongs on a postcard.
Inside, the bell rings over the door, and the first voice I hear nearly knocks me back.
“Maisie Carter?”
I spin around, heart thudding. Bonnie Kane is leaning against the counter, coffee in hand, eyes wide.
“Bonnie!” I hug her before she can blink.
She laughs, squeezing me tight. “Look at you. You didn’t say a word about coming home.”
“Didn’t plan to.” I pull back, trying to sound breezy. “But here I am.”
“I heard through the grapevine that my brother was at your cabin yesterday. Now I know why.” Bonnie takes a sip of coffee, watching me over the rim.
My grip tightens on the shopping basket handle. “Yeah, he showed up yesterday. Told me I was doing everything wrong.”
