Page 34 of Harvest Brew With the Mountain Man
It fucking kills me that I can’t pull her into my arms right now.
“Styx said you were on your way. That when you got here, I should escort his sister to their parents’ place,” the prospect informs.
Like hell.
“Actually,” Nora steps in, “I’m taking her to my place. She’s staying with me. I’ll drive her. We have Festival shit to discuss tonight. So you’re relieved of duty, prospect.”
The kid shifts his feet. He can’t be more than nineteen. Kid’s gonna have an aneurysm if we don’t alleviate his fear of going against club Enforcer.
“I’ll have Viper text and confirm the change,” I give him an out. If I suggest he call Styx himself, he’d probably shit himself. And in my living room. That area rug cost me a fortune.
Kid nods, pretending he’s not nervous. Only, it’s October, my back doors are open, letting in the cool evening air, and the kid’s sweating.
Once Viper confirms and Styx calls Nora, who then argues as only a reluctant MC princess would, the cover is set. The MC leaves, and it’s finally just the three of us.
Nora tucks the whiskey bottle under her arm.
“You’re welcome.”
“Leave that, Graves.” Honestly, I could give three shits. Let her steal my entire stash.
I rush over to Camille, and we collide. I hold her head against my chest. Her small, delicate hands grip the back of my jacket.
“He didn’t kill you,” she exhales against my chest.
“I was more worried about you, Nyx.”
“Goodness. You two are fucked. Good luck,” Nora calls out, but neither Camille nor I move.
The door opens, then shuts, and the crackle of the fireplace, the soft whistle of mountain breeze, and evening animals play the backtrack to this moment.
Leaning back, I cup her cheek and finally get my mouth on those lips. The world turns and settles as it should again. In this moment, with her in my arms, no one’s risking her safety, her brother isn’t kept in the dark about what we are becoming to each other, and life is only a series of memories—wonderful, blissful memories, with the promise of better to come.
“Update me,” she says when the kiss ends.
“They have a plan. This week, we focus on that.”
“And my part? Am I just to sit here like a damsel in distress while the men handle things?” The way she deepened her voice in mockery when she said, men, have me grinning.
“Hero, I’m serious. I’m not going to sit, crocheting in a corner while the men I love put themselves in danger.”
My body locks and breath stalls. So does hers.
“You know. Cause, we’re like family. Familial love, of course,” she backpedals.
She’s not wrong. There is love there. Growing up together, me being so close to her brother, she’s an integral puzzle piece of my past. Now, why did I want her to mean something else? I crave for it to be true, which is crazy. It’s too soon. I blame the Huntresses. Their love for my brothers is infectious.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Nyx,” I tease, giving her an out. “Now, I’m starving. Plotting against scary biker men stirs one’s appetite.”
“Cute, Hero. Real cute,” she deadpans. “But, actually, I’m cooking tonight. My treat.”
I face her and grin, leaning against the counter. “By all means. I most definitely won’t stop you.”
“You’re such a ham,” she chuckles, grabbing ingredients from the fridge.
“Everything in there is safe,” I remind her. “I did groceries this morning.”
“I saw,” she smiles over her shoulder. “I trust you.”
