Page 4 of My Santa Mountain Man
But I had to be reading him wrong because there wasno wayhe was checking me out.
Corbin Wallace didn’t date. Didn’t have any friends. And didn’t have any family.
It was just him and his dog out here.
And I wasn’t exactly dressed in a way that would catch a man’s attention, even a wild one like him. I’d spent the morning cleaning the farmhouse. Then spent the afternoon moving more boxes in.
I reflexively put a hand to my hair, trying to smooth it out.
No one had told me that Corbin was hot.
Not in the typical Hollywood way.
But the man had an air about him that made him seem feral. His broad shoulders filled out his coat, straining its seams. And his dark eyes glinted as they spoke of mysteries just waiting to be uncovered.
If anyone were to ask, I’d think I was having a visceral response to the man.
The energy between us felt charged, like we were twenty seconds from ripping off our clothes and having sex right there in the snow.
“Now that I see you up close, I’m changing my bet to two weeks,” he growled at me.
“Two weeks until what?” I asked with a big smile on my face. “You may have chased off the last few people who bought this property, but you’ll soon discover that I’m tenacious. You’d better get used to having me around, Corbin. Once we get past your surly veneer, I’m sure we can find some common ground. I think we’ll even be friends someday.”
He took another step forward, pinning me between the trunk of my car and his burly chest.
“You got a backup generator?” he growled.
“Uh…no.”
“Satellite phone?”
That was on my wish list. The cell reception was spotty out here, more off, less on.
“Not yet.”
He chuckled and lightly kicked the bumper of my car. “And this is what you drive?”
“Hey, it’s afinecar. I’ve got snow chains for the bad days. I’m not a transplant, Corbin. I grew up here, too. I can handle my own in some bad weather.”
Corbin leaned in and planted his hands on either side of me, attaching himself to my trunk. Then he bent forward until his face was close to mine, his chest almost pressed up against my overalls, his mouth dangerously close to mine.
With a vicious glint in his eye, he asked, “What about a chainsaw, little girl? You got one of those?”
He was so close I could smell the tangy scent of citrus and wood smoke on him.
My pulse ratcheted up a notch, my body responding to him in all thewrongways. But I held my ground, trapped between this surly mountain of a man and my car.
“Why do you smell like tangerines?” I asked.
His brow furrowed, and he looked surprised for a moment, before he covered it up again with a scowl.
Then he barked out. “Chainsaw.”
He pointed to the old oak. The one I’d noticed the first minute I was out here. The one that was leaning precariously over the shared gravel driveway.
My best friend, Violet, had dubbed it the Leaning Tower of Treeza. She thought she was funny.
I stammered out, “It’s on the list. But first I’ve got to move the rest of my stuff in, chase a family of mice out… along with a raccoon that’s moved in. And then I’ve got to get the utilities running. Once all that’s sorted out, I’ll take care of the tree.”
