Page 5 of Her Mountain Man Outlaw
One night. Just one night. Then things can go back to normal.
Swallowing hard, I crouch by the fire to stoke it again. It’s already roaring, but I need to do something other than stare at the angel sitting in my living room right now. As I prod the wood with a poker, I feel Sophia’s eyes on me, the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention.
“Do you live by yourself out here?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
Sophia frowns almost imperceptibly. “What about family? Do you have any nearby?”
“No.” My jaw tightens. I clear my throat, quick to redirect the conversation. “What about you? You live in Cherry Hollow?”
“Yes. I rent a little studio apartment above the flower shop, if you know where that is.”
I shrug. “Vaguely. I don’t go into town much.”
“How come?”
I can hear the curiosity in her voice, and I give up on the fire, setting the poker aside and taking a seat on the couch. “I just prefer being out in the woods,” I tell her. “Feels freer.”
“So you don’t work in Cherry Hollow?”
I shake my head. “Make all my income from the firewood stand. Mostly off-grid out here, so don’t need much.”
The firewood sells fast from September all the way until March, and it makes enough to see me through the summer months too. I chop the wood year-round, stacking it in the woodshed to dry, regularly filling the stand. It’s a simple job, but I like it. Keeps my hands busy, my mind occupied. But best of all, it keeps me off the radar. Untraceable.
“What about you?” I say, sensing that Sophia is about to ask another question. “You work in Cherry Hollow?”
“No.” She sets down her hot chocolate, her expression falling. “I’m between jobs right now. I used to work at a bookstore over in Winterdale, but it closed down last month.”
She looks so sad and lost that I have to stop myself from reaching for her, pulling her into my arms. But I stay put, my chest tightening with pity.
“Sorry,” I tell her. “That sucks. Can’t be easy getting laid off in the winter months.”
“It really isn’t.” She’s quiet for a moment, then sucks in a breath and forces a smile. “But I’m going to keep looking. Fingers crossed something will come up before Christmas.”
I can make out the anxiety, the fear behind her fake smile. This girl is struggling. Hell, maybe the reason she ran out of gas was because she couldn’t afford to fill her tank. Maybe she needs firewood because she can’t afford to heat her apartment any other way. It would certainly explain the piece-of-shit car she drives, old and rusted. I didn’t notice it before, but now I can see it clearly—the quiet desperation in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders. A young woman who’s just barely holding it together.
“Something will turn up,” I tell her, my frown deepening at the hollow words. It’s not enough. I want to do something. Protect her somehow. Anything to melt away the anxiety in hereyes. “And hey, if you ever need more firewood, don’t bother paying. Just take what you need.”
Her face brightens, and she looks at me with so much warmth and affection that I almost can’t bear it.
“That’s so thoughtful, Maddox.” She reaches out and squeezes my hand, sending a shiver through me. Her touch is like an electric shock, buzzing through my veins. “Thank you so much,” she adds. “Really. You don’t know how much that will help me this winter.”
“Don’t mention it,” I mumble. It’s almost hard to look at her, like staring directly at the sun. She’s too damn beautiful. Too sweet.
“I’ll keep track of anything I take and pay you back for all of it as soon as I get a job,” she says decisively.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I want to.” She beams at me, looking at me like I just gave her the moon. I can’t handle it. Can’t handle her looking at me like I’m some kind of great guy. If she knew who I really was, she’d flee this cabin right now, snowstorm or not.
“I better show you to your room,” I say hoarsely, standing up from the couch.
It’s barely nine, but I need to put some distance between me and Sophia. When she stands up from the armchair, I step back instinctively. My cabin is already small, but it seems even smaller with Sophia here, like the walls are closing in. Every inch of the room feels charged and dangerous. I force myself to turn away, leading her down the narrow corridor toward my bedroom, trying to control my wild heartbeat as she follows close behind.
Breathe. Stay calm.
But the storm isn’t just raging outside anymore. It’s inside me, roaring through my body, clawing at my restraint. And it’s all because of Sophia.
