Page 6 of Trick or Treat with the Mountain Man
He grunted, “You’re persistent.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Then I smiled at him, a cheeky grin with a hint of flirt in it. I kind of liked this surly mountain man, so there was no harm in showing it.
I must have worn down his resistance because he growled out, “Tyler,” before pulling out a second cookie and taking a bite out of it.
Andthisis what it’s like to tame the heart of a feral mountain man.
All you need is a fast smile and a batch of hot cookies. Workseverytime.
Chapter 3
Tyler
Ava was… persistent.
Persistent enough that I found myself stepping back and letting her into my house. I tried to tell myself it was just because the fireworks were popping off every few minutes and going in would muffle the sound.
But I knew it wasn’t true.
It was the cat costume.
And the warm cookies.
And the way her lips seemed to naturally form into a smile, as though she’d never cried a day in her life.
Either way, I let her in, gruffly saying, “Lock the door behind you,” as I grabbed my cane and headed back to the couch.
Even through the whiskey haze, I could feel the pain in my hip.
She bounced along behind me, settling on the other end of the couch. “This is cozy. Do you know the story of this place? It was the groundskeeper’s cottage for the big house. The big house being my friend Abby’s place. It was built by a doctor a long time ago, and it’s the fanciest place on the mountain. Or it was. Theneveryone thought it was haunted for years. It sat abandoned, along with this place, until Silas came along and bought it. Not this cottage, but the big house.”
I didn’t know any of that. Puzzle pieces slid together. “I guess that’s why the place was built so close to the other house. I mean, on twenty acres, you think they could have found a different spot for it. That makes sense if this was just a groundskeeper’s cabin.”
“Have you seen it? The big house? It has the mostamazingcourtyard. And Silas is an artist, so he’s painted the whole place. It’s colorful.” She looked around my cabin, her smile never faltering despite the fact that there was no color but brown in here. Brown wood. Brown furniture. Hell, I’d even bought a brown blanket for the bed.
“Color is overrated,” I grunted out.
She laughed like I’d just said the funniest thing. “What’s your favorite color? I’ll tell youmineif you tell meyours,” Ava said almost seductively.
I didn’t know how she could make a simple conversation feel like a prelude to sex. It had a lot to do with the cat leotard and her bare legs covered only by a pair of pantyhose.
Now that I saw her in proper lighting, I saw that the whole costume, pantyhose and all, was pink. She even had pink cat earrings dangling from her ears.
My cock said it haddefinitelynoticed every single detail about her by this point, and it approved of everything it saw.
Butitwasn’t in control.Iwas.
AndIsaid that cute women who show up at stranger’s doors late at night were trouble. None of which explained why I’d let her inside.
“Brown,” I said flatly, before biting into another one of her cookies.
It was so good I might have given up my first-born child for another bite, if I had one.
“Brown,” she repeated back, laughing. “Not good enough. You have to tell me the shade. Are we talking about a chestnut? Or maybe a mahogany. I don’t see you as a mahogany man. An oak brown? Or maybe the brown of old fall leaves after they’ve lost their tannin.”
“Sure. The last one.”
