Page 13 of Shelter for the Mountain Man
“I like it. What did you do?”
“A touch of coffee and worcestershire sauce. Gramps used both.”
“Be careful, I might put you on permanent KP.” She glances up, realizing what she said. “While you’re here.”
She turns toward the door to hide her gaffe, and I follow. “I haven’t even looked outside for hours.”
The dogs push past and we stand on the porch as they run out to play like little kids. The snow is still coming down, the wind blowing drifts toward the tree line. Whoever built the cabin knew enough to keep draft patterns in mind. The path to the barn is still manageable.
“I noticed your truck in the barn already has the plow on the front. You want me to clear a path?”
“Not yet, let’s wait to see if it stops overnight. The fall has been constant but not that heavy. Plowing out shouldn’t be hard.” She looks up at me. “Unless you’re in a hurry to get out and back to town?”
I brush a snowflake off her cheek. “No rush. I’m content staying right where I am. The company and location suit me just fine. I grew up in Chicago. But felt more at home with Gramps in the country. This feels good.”
It’s too fast. I have no right. But this woman, this authentic woman has already taken up space in my chest that I thought would stay empty for years, if not forever. Knowing I could be risking what’s growing between us, I still lean forward and kiss her forehead. “I’m in no rush. I want to stay. If you don’t mind.”
Confusion, then understanding flit across her face. Quickly followed by doubt. Someone must have really done a number on her to make her skittish. I hope I can help her realize I’m different.
Brownie rushes up, forcing herself between us. Fawn laughs. “I think she’s jealous. She’s taken quite a liking to you.”
“Hum. Kind of like how Marble has to sit between us at the table?” I counter.
She laughs.
CHAPTER 8
Fawn
He likes it here. It’s not too quiet or isolated. Too hard. He caught on to the chores almost immediately. He never worried about getting muddy or shit on his boots. Mom’s boyfriend helps when he’s here and he’s a hard worker. He’s just not country and looks forward to getting back to town.
Slow down girl. He’s stuck here.
But he was trekking, he likes being out in the woods, my hopeful heart argues.
Yeah and you like candy but not for every meal.
Dinner is delicious. Having him do the cooking is almost like going to a restaurant. He even insists I sit at the table while he serves me.
He tells silly stories of getting into trouble in high school. How he stripped the gears in his grandpa’s old truck when he tried drag racing on an old country road. Then how his gramps made him do the work to repair it while he over saw. How he and his best friend joined the army together but got separated after basic. His friend got discharged early due to severe PTSD.
“You miss the military?”
“At first. I missed the routine, the discipline, my buddies. But most of them got out around the same time and returned to their hometowns. I still connect with the ones I was closest with. Jax got out first and he’s talked a lot of us through the transition to civilian life.
“Losing my marriage was—tough. I realize now that my marriage was never what I thought it was in the first place. I was looking for what my grandparents had. She was looking for something else.”
“What?”
“Status and money. Her baby daddy had both.” He stands, clearing our plates. “Coffee?”
“Please.”
“What about you?” he asks when he sits back down.
“I was the odd duck. All the kids in high school grew up together and none of them lived like Mom and I. Kennedy may look like a quaint little town, but there are more deep pockets than you’d think. Some of the kids who came from money thought they ruled.”
“Some?”
