Page 12 of Mistletoed with the Mountain Man
He rounds the truck and gives me a look.
"What?" I ask when he climbs in.
"Nothing. Just..." He starts the engine, blasting the heat. "This is nice. Playing hooky from real life to decorate Christmas trees with a beautiful woman."
I blink. "You think…you think I'm beautiful? Or did you mean the tree farm owner?"
His eyes meet mine, serious now. "Nia. Come on. You're..." He shakes his head, pulling out onto the road. "You have to know you're gorgeous. That's not news."
"No, I…thank you. It's nice to hear." I turn to watch his profile as he drives. "Especially from someone who looks like they just walked off a mountain-man photo shoot."
That gets me a laugh. "Mountain-man photo shoot?"
"You know what I mean. All rugged and handsome with your badge and your secret tattoos." I poke his shoulder. "You're dangerous for women with authority figure fantasies."
"Are you one of those women?" His voice drops lower.
The truck is suddenly stifling despite the frigid air outside.
"Maybe," I admit. "Officer."
His jaw ticks. "You really shouldn’t call me that."
"Why not?"
"Because." His hands flex on the steering wheel, though he doesn’t seem angry. "Just...not a good idea."
Hmm.That'sinteresting.
I file that information away for later and turn to look out the window, hiding my smile.
What have I gotten myself into?
Back at the cabin, we wrestle the trees into their stands. Well, Kade wrestles while I "supervise," which mostly involves handing him tools and admiring the flex of his shoulders under that criminally tight Henley.
"Little to the left," I instruct.
He adjusts.
"No, I meant right."
He shoots me a look over his shoulder. "You enjoying yourself?"
"Immensely. Being creative director has its perks." I circle the tree, assessing. "Actually, I think it was better before. Turn it back."
"Nia."
"What? You want perfection, right?" But I'm laughing, and so is he, and when the tree is finally positioned properly, we both step back to admire it.
"It's going to be beautiful," I say softly.
"Yeah." But when I glance at him, he's not looking at the tree. He's looking at me.
The moment stretches, charged with a heat that’s making me sweat, until my stomach betrays me with an embarrassingly loud growl.
Kade blinks. "Lunch time?" He heads for the kitchen. "I made chicken and wild rice soup overnight in the slow cooker, if that works for you."
"You cook?"
