Page 4 of My Mountain Man Boss
I bark out a surprised laugh. “I deserved that.”
I’m behaving like an ass, but I can’t stop myself. I can’t bear the thought of other men staring at her. I don’t even know if she has a boyfriend.
I imagine a weedy French youth drinking red wine and talking philosophy, and the vein on my neck almost bursts.
I tighten my grip on her waist so tight she gasps.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
She waits a beat or two before answering, and I don’t breathe. If she says yes, I’ll have to hunt him down and let him know politely that she’s no longer his. Even if that means a trip to France.
“No. I’m happy on my own.”
She says the last with an arched eyebrow.
We move around the dance floor, and I try to get my heartbeat under control. The woman I want is in my arms, but I’m behaving like an ass. This is not the way to win her over.
I try again. “When did you get back?”
“This morning. My flights were cancelled because of a storm.”
This is good. This is safe ground. I’m not the over-bearing asshole. “Did you come back for your mom?”
She frowns at me. “Why, what’s wrong with Mom?”
I mentally kick myself. She doesn’t know.
I’m about to tell Amy she needs to talk to her mom when Izzie taps me on the shoulder.
“It’s time for our dance.” If it was anyone else, I’d tell them to fuck off, but I can’t deny my daughter anything on her wedding day.
“Of course.” Reluctantly, I let go of Amy’s waist, and her body moves away from mine. I feel the loss to my bones.
I take a more conservative stance with my daughter, but as we move around the dance floor for the father daughter dance, my gaze follows Amy and the sway of her hips as she moves across the room.
3
AMY
“It’s probably not what you’re used to in France, is it love?” Mom takes a sip of champagne, and I try not to stare at the way her hand trembles as she lifts the glass to her mouth.
“I don’t drink a lot of champagne. The vineyard produces pinot noir.”
There’s a smudge of red lipstick on the glass when she sets it down. “No, I don’t suppose you do. Your dad wouldn’t fork out for the real stuff.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes. I should be used to Mom’s casual digs at Dad, but they still grate.
“Not like Landon.” She looks around the room, tastefully decorated with pale pink flowers and twinkling fairy lights. “No expense spared for his little girl.”
The mention of Landon has me reeling. The entire time we were dancing, my skin felt like it was on fire. Whenever I’m close to him, my stomach ties itself in knots and sweat breaks out on my palms. Then I remember what he said about Mom.
She lets out a long sigh and takes another sip of champagne. Her eyes close, and she leans back in her chair.
It’s been a whirlwind of a day with the flight cancellations and only being able to rebook to get in this morning. Between travel and bridesmaid duties, this is the first time I’ve had the chance to sit down and talk to Mom properly.
There are dark smudges under her eyes, and her cheekbones are visible. She’s lost the roundness in her face, and the dress she’s wearing is baggy.
“You’ve lost weight.”
