Page 13 of Marked By the Mountain Man
Now I’m grinning. “And I’m pretty sure you like it.”
He doesn’t flinch when I press the needle to his skin. His eyes watch me quietly, like he’s too tough for pain.
I stitch in silence, the tension between us thick and humming. His hand is warm in mine, steady despite the stinging he must feel.
Why do I like being this close to him? Why do I like feeling his heat, his strength, his size? Why do I like the way he smells, the way he tasted, the rough callouses on his skin? Why do I want him to pull me closer and hold me until I’m lost in his big arms and the rest of the world disappears?
It’s irresponsible, it’s irrational, he’s insufferable, and given the fact that he was friends with my father, he’s off limits.Yet here I am, wanting him anyway.
Therapy is probably my best line of defense. I make a mental note to check that out when I get back to town. I wonder if there’s even a therapist on the mountain. I’ve never heard anyone talking about one. Heck, the closest I’ve heard of is the psychic up by the river’s bend, but that’s not the same thing, and I’m not even sure if she’s practicing anymore.
Tying off the last stitch and standing back, my heart thudding like I’ve just run a mile, I watch as he flexes his fingers, testing the repair, and winces.
“Thanks,” he says, voice low. “You did a decent job.”
I nod, suddenly hyperaware of the low roughness in his voice, the strength in his shoulders, the way his eyes meet mine. He doesn’t move… and neither do I.
“That kiss earlier,” he says finally, his voice coarse, “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
My breath catches.I swallow hard, the ache in my chest blooming widely. “Then why are you out here chopping wood like it’s me you’re trying to forget?”
He looks at me, eyes dark and tired. “Because I don’t know what to do with it.”
The silence between us stretches, thick and humming. I feel it in my ribs, in the stitched-up space where I held his hand and didn’t let go.
I shift closer, just enough to feel his warmth. “You don’t have to know what to do with it right now. You just have to admit it mattered.”
He lets out a dry laugh. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It is,” I say gently. “Simple doesn’t mean easy.”
A long beat passes as his gaze lingers, before he looks away quickly. “You always do that.”
“What?”
He glances back up, his square hand brushing over his beard. “Say something that makes me feel like maybe I’m not as messed up as I know I am.”
I smile back, my pulse racing. “Maybe you’re not.”
The words hang between us on a thread, tugging at something buried deep. I’m not sure what it is, but I know I want more. I know Ineedmore.
More of him. More of his sarcastic comments. More of his voice dips when he’s pretending not to feel anything. More of the way he stands too close when he’s trying to stay distant.
I blink, and something shifts in the corner of my vision.
Movement.
My heart thuds as I turn my head to see that beyond the clearing, is a bear half-hidden by the trees. I’m guessing it’s the same animal from earlier, though I suppose there could be another enormous bear running around in late October. We are in the middle of nowhere on the side of a mountain. If there’s one, there’s likely more.
Its massive body is still, but its eyes are locked on me. Not Knox. Not the cabin. Not the pile of wood or the axe covered in blood.Me.
My breath stutters.
It’s not just watching. He’s waiting, like he knows I’m ready now. That it’s time and hehasto tell me something.
I glance toward Knox then back at the bear. It’s stupid to chase after a giant grizzly who’s most likely stalking me for a snack, but there’s a pull in my chest I can’t ignore. A hum somewhere deep that’s drawing me to follow.
The bear turns back toward the woods, and I run for my boots, tucking into them quickly before grabbing my jacket off the hook.
