Page 28 of Mountain Hero

“Yeah.” His smile gets bigger. “It’s old, but never stops being funny. I used to watch it once a year with my uncle.”

“I used to love that movie.” My own lips tug up as I watch Rick Moranis try to drink coffee through his helmet. “My dad thought it was hilarious. I would always pretend I thought it was silly, but then I’d end up watching it with him, anyway.”

The flickering glow of the TV casts Enzo’s features into strong shadows and angles. He eyeballs me lingering a few feet from the couch and says, “Do you want to watch with me? I can start it from the beginning.”

Oh.

There’s that feeling in my chest again.

“Yes.” I head over to the couch and sink down on the middle cushion; not close enough to touch Enzo, but close enough to catch the fresh scent of whatever soap he used in the shower. Close enough to feel safe again. “I’d really like that.”

CHAPTER 8

ENZO

This is not the time to think about Winter that way.

I should not be thinking about how beautiful she looked last night—how her face lit up each time she laughed and the way her eyes sparkled as we quoted lines from the movie together and how the dim light in the room set off the delicate lines of her features.

And I probably shouldn’t be thinking about how sweet she looked when she fell asleep halfway through the movie, all snuggled into the pillows with her hair falling over her face and the cutest little pout on her lips.

But it felt good, knowing she trusted me enough to let down her guard. Not that I didn’t want her to feel comfortable sleeping upstairs, but watching her sleep struck a chord in me. It jolted all my protective instincts into overdrive.

I could have woken her up and encouraged her to try sleeping in the bedroom again, or I could have gone to my room and left her alone on the couch. But neither felt right. So I moved over to the recliner and spent the rest of the night there, wanting to be close in case she woke up scared or confused about where she was.

She slept better than I expected; getting in a few solid hours before she jerked awake on a startled gasp, like she’d yanked herself out of a nightmare. But she covered it up quickly, forcing one of those fake smiles that make me desperate to make it a real one instead.

I’ve never felt like that before, either. Like I’d do anything to make a woman happy.

Not just any woman, though. Winter.

But I’m just here as her friend and protector. That’s all.

It doesn’t matter if I think Winter is beautiful and brave and I wish like anything I’d manned up and asked her out months ago instead of trying to ignore how I felt about her.

Winter is dealing with a shit-ton of trauma and her asshole ex is still out there and keeping her safe is my priority. If I can make her happy in all that, even better. And maybe, once all this is over and she’s settled back into normal life again, then I can ask her out.

In the meantime, there are things to deal with. Things like increasing security and following up with the police and convincing Winter she should stay here instead of going back to that awful motel.

But first, breakfast.

After doing a deep dive into my fridge and cabinets, I find enough food to make scrambled eggs, toast, and sausage that only has the tiniest bit of freezer burn. And coffee, of course, though all I have is a container of powdered creamer that’s still a few months short of its expiration date.

Shit. I really need to do a better job of grocery shopping.

I’m just cracking the eggs into a bowl when Winter comes into the kitchen and my heart gives an uneven lurch.

The sun streams through the windows and catches her dark hair, transforming it from the rich chestnut of last night into a molten blend of copper and gold and burnished bronze.

There’s more color in her cheeks than there was yesterday, and the shadows under her eyes have faded.

She’s wearing a pair of jeans that are just tight enough to show off the sweet curve of her hips, and her feet are adorably bare. I never thought about a woman’s feet before, honestly, but they’re small and cute and there’s just something about seeing her walking into my kitchen like she’s made herself at home…

Even from across the room, her eyes are a brilliant green, and they brighten as she meets my gaze. She sniffs, and even the way her nose crinkles is cute.

Shit.

Just friends, I sternly remind myself. She’s been through a lot. Don’t even think about anything other than friendship right now.

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