Page 44 of Mountain Man Officer

“No,” he said again. “It’s just too soon.”

Dillon shrugged. “What about you?” he asked me.

I took a deep breath and dove right in. “Okay. I’ll ask Lindsey when I get home.”

“Alright.” Dillon held out his beer for a toast.

I clinked bottles, finishing mine off in a single gulp.

Ryan narrowed his eyes, disapproving but not enough to say anything. I kept myself at one beer, refusing the waitress when she came back to ask if we needed anything. Dillon only had one as well, while Ryan finished off the night with three. We split in the parking lot, each ready to go home to his own life.

I had Lindsey waiting for me. Dillon had Macy. Ryan had no one but might have been planning some other fun that night, and that wasn’t any of my business. No, I corrected myself, Lindsey wasn’t waiting for me. If she was home, she was doing her own thing. She might not even be there. This whole “are we friends, roommates, or lovers” question was really getting confusing. Maybe the double date would help move things along to a place where there were fewer questions and more answers.

I drove home to find Lindsey’s car in the driveway. Stepping out of the truck, I was once again struck by the noise of the forest. Unlike the city with its car alarms and drunken shouting, the wildlife on the mountain had its own orchestra. The crickets chirped, and the wind rustled the leaves. Somewhere beyond the porch light, something moved through the underbrush. I turned away from the forest and into the cabin, setting my keys down in a bowl next to the door.

Lindsey was sitting on the couch, reading. She looked up when she heard me and smiled. “I made soup. It’s in a pot on the stove.”

My stomach growled, and I realized that I had neglected dinner while at the bar. I grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and poured myself some soup. It was almost a stew, with carrots, onions, potatoes, and beef. I poked at it with a spoon before digging in, standing at the island so I could look across at Lindsey.

She dropped her book reluctantly, sensing my attention. Her lips curled up into a questioning smile, her voice friendly and unassuming when she said, “What?”

“How would you feel about a double date with Dillon and Macy?” I asked.

She took her time answering, allowing the words to sink in. “You want to go on a date?” she finally asked.

I nodded.

“With me?” she asked again.

I laughed. “Yes.”

“But I thought…” she began, sitting up so she could participate in the conversation better.

“We don’t have to,” I said quickly. “I just thought that… maybe you felt the same way that I feel.” I didn’t want to lay all my cards on the table, but a quick peek at my hand couldn’t hurt. “This soup is really good.”

“Thanks.” She allowed herself to be distracted. “It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”

I nodded. She didn’t answer for so long that I was afraid I had misread the situation. Maybe she wasn’t interested in me that way; maybe the sex had been just sex to her, and I was only her landlord. My heart warmed when she finally agreed.

“Yeah,” she said. “I would love to go out with you.”

There was so much distance between us, not to mention a couch and a kitchen island. I stood, feeling stupidly optimistic, finishing my soup before heading to bed. I was suddenly very tired, and even though my cock tried in vain to entice me to seduce Lindsey, I didn’t have it in me to respond. There would be plenty of time to recreate the magic of last week. We lived together; we shared the same bathroom.

Lindsey got tired of waiting for me to come to her and stood up. She crossed the room in a few excited hops and fell into my arms. I set the bowl down with a laugh. She planted her palms against my cheeks and pulled me in for a kiss. It was deep and luxurious, almost awakening the sleeping beast in my pants. I let myself enjoy it now that my panic over being misinterpreted had passed. We had given up the charade about being just friends or roommates and admitted to ourselves that we were interested in more. Wherever this path led, we would walk it together.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered when we came up for air. “I’m tired. Can we pick this back up tomorrow?”

“Oh.” She stepped back, disappointed. “Sure.”

I thrust one arm behind her back and pulled her against me, diving into a second kiss with more passion than I had spared for the first. With this final kiss, I planned to prove that I was invested in our happiness, that she turned me on, and I would fight even the monster of sleep for her. I submerged myself in the cavern of her mouth, sharing the taste of the soup I had so recently devoured. She sealed the kiss with a little breath. I searched her eyes for any sign of the disappointment I had seen moments ago. Instead, I found tranquility and a blossoming affection.

“Go,” she said.

I smiled. “Thank you.”

As I headed for the hallway, I thought I saw her lean into the island, as if she had lost her balance. I grinned. Just one kiss had affected her so much that she swooned. I looked forward to the next time I could cause her knees to buckle. We would be doing so much more than kissing. I fell asleep before my head hit the pillow, without crawling under the covers, still dressed in my work clothes.

18

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