Page 24 of Naughty With The Mountain Man
I’ve walked into war zones quieter than this place.
The center is alive with chaos. Kids yelling over video games, a speaker blasting some pop song I can’t name, the hum of life practically vibrating the walls. It should put me on edge. It should make me want to back out the door and disappear into the woods where the only sound is the crunch of snow under my boots.
But I don’t.
Because she’s here.
Ellie moves through this place like she belongs to it. Not in the way a person fits into a job — in the way a lighthouse fits into a storm. Anchored. Unshaken.
The kids light up when she enters the room. That pink-haired girl? She hugged Ellie like she was a lifeline. The kid pretending not to look? Watched her every move when he thought no one noticed. Even the staff—that therapist, Sasha, gave Ellie a lookI’ve seen before. The kind you give a soldier you trust with your back in the field.
It almost makes me smile.
Almost.
But I’m not here for the warm fuzzies. I’m here because someone is threatening her. Hunting her. And if I don’t keep my head sharp, she’ll end up just another case file with a string of regrets attached.
I scan the room again.
Troy. Early thirties. Fit. Friendly.Too friendly.
He’s got one of those charming, easy smiles and a voice that always sounds like it’s one laugh away from flirting. He’s watching Ellie, too—not the way I do, but in the way a man looks when he thinks maybe, just maybe, he has a shot.
He doesn’t.
I cross my arms and step into his line of sight, just to watch the way he adjusts himself. Subtle. Like he’s trying to stand straighter. Look more useful. I’ve seen that posture before—from new recruits trying to impress a commanding officer.
“Let’s grab lunch,” I murmur to Ellie once she finishes talking with a group of teens.
She turns toward me, brushing a curl behind her ear. “Yeah, I’m starving.”
Troy perks up. “You guys heading to the diner? I was thinking of swinging by.”
“No,” I say flatly. “Just us.”
Ellie gives me a quick side-eye, but says nothing. Smart woman.
We step outside into the bitter chill and start down the snowy sidewalk toward the diner on the corner.
Once we’re out of earshot, I ask, “How long’s Troy been working at the center?”
She shrugs, tucking her hands into her coat pockets. “Few months. He’s good with the kids. Why?”
“Just noticing the way he looks at you.”
She smirks. “Are you seriously jealous?”
I grunt. “I’m just observant.”
She bumps her shoulder into mine. “Troy’s harmless. He’s a flirt with everyone—men, women, the coffee machine.”
“Has he ever asked you out?”
She glances at me like she’s trying to figure out how deep this conversation’s about to go. Then, calmly, “No. And I wouldn’t have said yes if he did.”
I like the way she says that. It’s simple, sure, with no explanation needed. It settles something hot and possessive in my chest.
Still, I file it away. Doesn’t matter if Troy’s harmless. Doesn’t matter if he’s just a coworker. I don’t trust easy, and I trustno onewith her safety. If he’s clean, fine. If not... I’ll handle it.
