Page 12 of Sugar for the Mountain Man
“Why do you think she did it?” Figuring it can’t hurt to ask, I glance toward him and pretend he isn’t acting like the weird one here.
Can a person look happy without smiling? If it’s a possibility, then I’m sure Wesley can do it.
“She was paid off, I know it. Despite getting the board on my side, the damage was done.” He scowls at the past and shakes his head. “The stockholders gave them one option. I needed to go. Now look at me. Hiding away from the world while they think I’m worse than scum.”
Pursing my lips together, I’m the one to frown this time. Taking my attention off of the pan, I narrow my eyes. “I don’t think that way about you one bit. Rather, I like you, Wesley Haverford. While I might not have known who you were, the man you are now is the one I want to impress. Now, are you going to let me knock your socks off, or are you going to make me listen to you insult yourself until I grow mad?”
Brows lifting at my suddenness, I’m rewarded with a low laugh. With that, a small curve. Not a frown, but asmile.
I’m sure this man could once get whatever woman he wanted. Right now, he’s looking at me like I’m the only woman to exist. It’s going to take serious effort not to let that go to my head.
Waving my spatula at him before he can dare take another step forward to do something that would risk burning my perfect recipe, I motion for him to take a seat.
I’m going to achieve my goal. Once I do what I came here to do, and I win over his heart, then I’ll feed into this energy sparking between us.
6
Wesley
Turns out, Maribel isn’t as shy as I originally thought. The more time we spend together, the more natural she acts.
I can’t lie, having Maribel boss me around, making sure I keep my hands to myself, makes me want her that much more.
Ever since she barely batted an eye at everything, I’ve wanted to kiss her.
Hell, I’ve wanted to marry her. Is that crazy? Absolutely. Then again, I don’t meet a woman who makes me this happy every day.
After making me eat more than enough of my fill and enjoying every precious minute of cleaning up the mess, I’ve coax her to sit with me in my living room before a thought can manifest to suggest she leave.
I offer an entire L-shaped couch to her, and she claims the seat right next to mine. Right where she belongs. I have to fightthe urge to tug her closer, right to the best place for my hands to reach. Somehow, I continue carrying the patience of a saint.
Every second that passes, I feel that patience cracking. I’m a good man, but everyone has a limit. I’m starting to reach mine.
The fire casts a low, shifting glow across the room, and Maribel is a warm weight against my side on the couch as she purposefully nudges closer.
Another pesky change I’ve had to adjust to is how cold this mountain is. However, when I’m not alone, I hardly notice the chill in the air. I’ve mastered building fires, down to the point of impressing.
We’ve been talking for an hour, maybe more, the conversation drifting from nothing to everything. Her laughter at something I said still hangs in the air between us, a soft, pleasing sound.
It’s hard to believe she’s still here. A part of me convinced myself that she would’ve booked it the moment I muttered my name. Yet, she stayed forme.
God, I want to touch her. How long does she plan on keeping her distance? I ate her food, I enjoyed it, surprisingly. Isn’t that enough?
I watch her gaze drift around the room, taking in the stark lines, the curated art, the absolute absence of anything personal. Her eyes hold a question she is too polite to ask.
“It’s too much, isn’t it?” I say, my voice cutting through the quiet. “This cabin. I’ve thought so, too. Many times.”
She turns her head, her expression softening. “It’s beautiful. It’s just… very grand for one person.”
“It’s a fortress,” I correct, the word tasting like ash. “Designed to keep the world out. I didn’t think I’d be able to succeed so well. Even coming from a man who is used to success.”
Trying to joke, the words leave my lips relatively flat.
Her brow furrows, not in pity, but in understanding. “It must be lonely.”
Her compassion hits me hard in the chest. I want to deflect it, to rebuild the walls I’ve grown used to, but I am tired of being alone.
The only thing I want in this moment is the woman looking at me as if she can see the hollow spaces inside. The one who sees me as the man I truly am.
