Page 25 of Trusting the Grumpy Mountain Man
Her expression sobers. "Yes. The report." She sits up, clutching the sheet to her chest. "I should get started on that."
"After breakfast," I insist, sliding out of bed and pulling on my jeans. "Can't have you working on an empty stomach."
While she showers, I cook a simple meal of eggs and toast. Domestic activities I rarely bother with when it's just me. Having her here changes everything, makes me want to provide in ways I'd forgotten I could.
She emerges wearing yesterday's clothes, hair damp and face scrubbed clean of any makeup she might have worn. The natural beauty of her takes my breath away.
"That smells amazing," she says, approaching the small kitchen area.
"Nothing fancy." I slide a plate toward her. "But it'll fuel that big brain of yours."
She smiles, accepting the plate and the mug of coffee I offer. We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, stealing glances at each other like teenagers.
"I need to check on the kids," I say finally, reluctantly. "Make sure they're on track with morning chores."
"Of course." She nods, understanding. "I should get dressed properly and start organizing my notes."
"Use my office as long as you need." I carry our plates to the sink. "I'll be back in an hour or so."
Before leaving, I pull her close for one more kiss, intending it to be brief. But she melts against me, and suddenly I'm deepening the contact, hands sliding down to cup her ass through the thin material of her borrowed sweatpants.
"One hour," I murmur against her lips. "Don't go anywhere."
"I'll be here," she promises.
The words shouldn't mean as much as they do.
Outside, the morning is crisp and clear, a perfect Nevada autumn day. The bunkhouse buzzes with activity when I enter. Beds made with military precision, gear organized, teenagers moving with purpose rather than the sullen shuffling of three days ago.
"Morning, Mr. Reeves," Jesse calls, clipboard in hand. "Everyone's completed morning check and ready for assignment."
I scan the room, noting the transformation not just in the space but in the kids themselves. Backs straighter. Eyes clearer. Purpose evident in their movements.
"Good work," I tell them. "Today we're focusing on team challenges. Build on what you've learned individually to solve problems as a group."
I outline the day's activities, answering questions and assigning roles. Throughout, I catch knowing looks exchanged between Mia and Tyler. Word has clearly spread about Riley staying in my cabin overnight.
"Something to share with the group, Mia?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"No, sir." She attempts to look innocent and fails spectacularly. "Just excited about team challenges."
"Uh-huh." I let it slide. "Equipment shed in twenty minutes. Full gear check before we start."
As the teens disperse to prepare, Jesse hangs back. "Ms. Chaffeur still evaluating the program?"
The question carries subtext even a seventeen-year-old can't disguise.
"Ms. Chaffeur is completing her report," I answer neutrally. "She'll be with us a few more days."
Jesse nods, a slight smile playing at his lips. "Cool. She's pretty okay for a social worker."
"High praise," I note dryly.
"Just saying." He shrugs. "She actually listens. Most of them just check boxes."
The observation mirrors my own thoughts from days ago. Riley does listen. Really listens, not just waits for her turn to speak. It's part of what drew me to her despite our professional antagonism.
I leave Jesse to finish organizing the group and head to the supply shed, taking inventory of what we'll need for today's exercises. My mind keeps drifting back to Riley. To the way she felt beneath me. The sounds she made. The trust in her eyes when she gave herself to me completely.
