Page 6 of Naughty With The Mountain Man
“No reason.” He stabs a potato like it owes him answers.
I tilt my head. “Micah… are youjealous?”
“I’m not jealous,” he says, a little too fast. “I just think it’s interesting that he sends youhere.”
“Because you’re good at what you do,” I say, softening. “And he trusts you. That’s all.”
He doesn’t reply, but I see the tension ease in his shoulders.
“Besides,” I add, smiling, “if I had any interest in Nate, I wouldn’t have kissedyou.”
His eyes flick to mine, dark and unreadable. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Say things like that.”
“Why not?” I challenge, half teasing.
“Because I’m trying tofocus,Ellie.”
“On dinner?”
“On keeping youalive.”
Right. The threats. The reason I’mhereand not sipping eggnog with my coworkers at our annual "Ugly Sweater and Ugly Gossip" party.
“Sorry,” I say, tucking a piece of chicken into my mouth and instantly moaning. “Oh myGod, what is this? This isn’t food. This is a religious experience.”
Micah’s mouth twitches again. “Family recipe.”
I point my fork at him. “You’re not allowed to look likethatand cook likethis.It’s too much. I’m losing focus.”
He leans back in his chair, gaze locked on me, serious now. “We need to make a rule.”
I arch a brow. “That sounds ominous.”
He sets his fork down. “I can’t protect you if I’m distracted. If I’m thinking about your mouth when I should be watching the door.”
My cheeks flush, and not from the potatoes. “So what are you saying?”
“No kissing. No touching. No more...distractions.”
My stomach flips in protest, but I nod. He’s right. “Okay. No kissing.”
“Good.”
“Or lap sitting,” I add, mock-grave.
He glares. “Especially no lap sitting.”
We lock eyes.
And then we both laugh.
For a second, it’s light. Warm. Human.
“Deal,” I say, holding out my pinky.
