Page 7 of Snug with the Mountain Man
The only thing keeping me from closing that space is a thin thread of control I can feel fraying.
“Maisie,” I say, and it sounds like a warning.
“Ford.” Her voice is quieter. “Stop thinking so hard.”
I drop my hand from her waist before I ruin both of us. “You should get some sleep. I’ll check the line before I head back down.”
She leans back, smiling just enough to let me know she’s not fooled. “Sure, Ford.”
I grab my jacket from the hook by the door. My hands are shaking, just slightly. I pull the door open, and the wind whips rain against my face.
“Lock up,” I tell her. “If it gets worse, call me.”
“You’ll come back?” she asks.
I hesitate. “Yeah. I’ll come back.”
She nods. “Good night.”
I look back at her. She’s smiling, sweet and wicked, sweater slipping lower off one shoulder. I shut the door before I do something I can’t take back.
Outside, the rain is relentless, but all I can think about is the way her breath felt against my skin and the taste of her name sitting like a dare on my tongue.
Chapter five
Maisie
The storm doesn’t let up.
Rain lashes the windows in hard, unpredictable bursts, and the wind screams through the trees like it’s alive. Every few minutes, the roof creaks loud enough to make my stomach drop.
I throw another log on the fire, but the cabin still feels cold. The kind of cold that seeps into your bones, no matter how close you get to the flames.
The candles are burning lower now. Shadows crawl up the walls. I tell myself it’s fine, that I’ve been alone before, that Idon’t need anyone. But every snap of a branch outside makes me flinch.
I don’t need Ford to come back, I lie to myself.
I’m halfway through pouring myself a third glass of wine when something thumps against the back door. It’s not the wind, it’s something heavier. Then, a low rummaging sound, like something or someone trying to pry at the latch.
The glass nearly slips from my hand. I freeze, heart pounding, eyes locked on the door.
The sound comes again. A slow drag. A thud.
My body moves before my brain does. I grab my phone and hit the one number I shouldn’t.
He answers on the second ring. “Maisie?”
“There’s… something outside.” My voice is too high, too fast. “At the back door. It’s not the wind.”
“Stay inside,” he says immediately. “Lock both doors. Don’t move. I’m coming.”
“Ford—”
But he’s already gone.
The next ten minutes are the longest of my life. I stand in the living room, every muscle tight, listening to the wind howl. When the headlights finally sweep across the window, I could cry.
I unlock the door right before it bursts open. Ford steps inside, rain dripping from his hair, flashlight in one hand, jaw set hard.
