Page 10 of Harvest Brew With the Mountain Man
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Oh. Okay. That’s new. Not from him, but men in general.
“I haven’t seen you, really seen you, in years. I’m processing a lot right now. You, being a woman, a beautiful woman, in front of me. You, still being my best friend’s little sister, who I grew up watching climb trees, snack on string cheese, and cry when her big brother tossed one of her toys.”
Instantly, Drew throwing my Wednesday Adams Lego figure in the lake behind our house comes to mind.
“I told him off for that later, when no one was looking, by the way.”
Another memory hits.
“Wait.” My mind races with different occasions. “I thought my parents fished her out of the lake and left her at my desk.” His expression gives him away. “You,” I whisper.
Even at thirty-six, that boyish manner when he felt shy still comes through.
His mouth twists as he shrugs. “I know how expensive those things are. And you loved your Legos. He was dumb for tossing them.”
We’re back on the other side of the line. The air of flirtation is gone, and I’m suddenly aware of our position. My legs rest at his hips as his body leans in close. We’re practically fused together. Would be too, if other parts were involved.
“It’s been a big night. Big emotions,” he keeps his voice low. “Let’s get to my place, where you can rest. Tomorrow, we figure stuff out.”
I relent and nod. Honestly, I’d like to leave Main Street. I want to be as far from Black Feral as humanly possible.
We slowly peel off the other. I slip off the desk and we quietly and cautiously shut the bar down and leave in his Subaru. Music softly plays in the background as we enter Hunter land and continue up the mountain to West’s place.
I’ve heard from my parents how much has changed since I left. They’ve evolved businesses, the land, built new homes, and other properties. Grace Delaney also came back to town and, apparently, is with Beckett Hunter now. Talk about age gap. I say, good for them. You can’t help who you love.
I look out the window at the winding tree paths and mountain edges, wondering if I’ve ever been in love. Did I love Brian? You’d think a year together meant I did, but no. Sadly, I think I stayed that long because it felt nice to have someone. Though as much as he tried, I never slept with him. That should’ve been a huge sign.
To be fair, I’ve never slept with anyone. I never felt safe enough to be that intimate with someone. I slept over a couple of times at Brian’s apartment, but felt uncomfortable every time. I forced myself to try again, worried something was wrong with me. Who doesn’t want to sleep with their boyfriend, seven months into their relationship?
I’m definitely a sexual being. I have no problem getting off on my own. Who knows. Maybe I’m like penguins or wolves. I only mate for life with one person. The idea makes me chuckle to myself.
“Care to share, Giggles?”
“Goodness, you and the nicknames,” I tease, smiling.
“Terms of endearment,” he corrects. “You should be honored. Not everyone is bestowed one.”
I scoff a laugh. “Why do I find that hard to believe. Ten bucks says you have one for every person in this town.”
“Hope you have that in cash. I don’t take card.”
I shake my head, leaning it back on the headrest when we pull up to a beautiful, one-story, black siding and trim A-frame cabin.
I gasp, leaning forward. “Holy shit, West. This is beautiful.”
The entire foundation rests on at least four layers of light gray stones. From this angle, I see a black wooden deck at the same elevation as the cabin, with a U-shaped outdoor couch, and floor-to-ceiling windows on every side. It’s stunning.
He parks, and before I can get out, he runs around the car to open my door and help me out.
“Still ever the gentlemen.” Even as a teenager, he was like this.
Seriously, who could blame my teenage heart from thumping?
Walking, it’s even more of a dream. The warm, low lights turn on, enveloping the entire space in soft, golden light. The furniture is all well-designed and inviting. Someone took great care putting this open-spaced room together.
“Who designed the interior?” I ask, my mind cataloging ways I could enhance some areas.
