Page 36 of Mountain Hero

And Ronan’s right about one thing. While Winter is fragile at times—when she wakes up from her nightmares, shaking so hard her teeth chatter, or when something triggers a momentary flashback—she’s also one of the strongest people I know.

Making it through whatever trauma Thomas put her through, defying him at the risk of her own safety because she thought it was the right thing to do, talking to the police though she knew the information she had about Thomas could put her in even more danger.

Facing that motel room alone and without complaint.

Coming here when she wasn’t entirely sure she could trust me.

Walking into the kitchen each morning with a smile, no matter how difficult the night before was.

Already trying to rebuild her business while she’s still recovering from a concussion.

Not just meeting my friends, but befriending them, even though she had every reason to fear men she didn’t know.

Shit. No wonder I can’t stop thinking about Winter. I’ve never met a woman this incredible before.

“Enzo!” Winter comes into the kitchen doorway, smiling brightly at me. “Did you just get home? I didn’t hear you.”

Is it bad that I like how she calls this home?

“Yeah, I was just talking to Ronan outside for a few minutes.” I cross the living room, but hesitate once I get to her—should I take her hand? Hug her? Stick with a smile? Do nothing?

Damn. This is harder than when I went on my first date in eighth grade and I spent almost the entire movie debating whether to try the casual arm over the shoulder move or the one where we reach for the popcorn at the same time.

Except that was just a thirteen-year-old with a crush on a girl. And this is the woman I’m fascinated by.

Winter solves the issue of my indecision by taking my hand and pulling me into the kitchen. “Look.” She gestures at the laptop sitting open on the island. “I made some initial designs for the store.”

Part of me wants to scold her—nicely, of course—for spending undoubtedly more time on the computer than she should have. Just because she’s feeling better doesn’t mean the effects of the concussion are all gone, or that she should go back to working full-time.

But then she looks at me, and her face is all lit up and her eyes are sparkling and there’s no way I’m saying anything to take that away.

She tugs me closer, so we’re side-by-side. “Look,” she repeats, pointing at the screen. “I have six options for the updated logo. It’s still incorporating your uncle’s original design, just with a modern touch to it. Plus, a bit more color to catch the eye.”

“They look amazing.” And they do. Somehow, Winter transformed a very basic sketch of a hiker ascending a mountain and turned it into something infinitely more appealing and professional.

“And here,” Winter squeezes my hand as she points at another image. “I was thinking something like this for a sign to put out by the road. Something simple that won’t contrast with the gorgeous scenery.”

I’m so close to her, I can smell the floral scent of her shampoo, and her hair looks so soft it’s a struggle not to press my lips to it. But kissing Winter is definitely not on the table right now, so I take a steadying breath and say, “That looks fantastic. Really. Uncle Caleb would be so impressed.”

“Really?” She turns toward me, her brows winging up. “You don’t think he’d be upset about me changing things? Or… if you’ve changed your mind about it. If you want to keep things the same… I’m not going to be insulted.”

“Absolutely not. To either of those things. He would not be upset at all. He’d probably be bitching about not thinking of it sooner. And I haven’t changed my mind. I think what you created is perfect.”

“Oh.” Pink tinges her cheeks. “Good. I just want to make it nice for you. But these are still just ideas. If there’s anything you want to change, we can. Colors, fonts, layout…”

“I trust you. Whatever you choose is going to be a thousand times better than what I could come up with. And thank you for doing this.”

Winter stares up at me, her gorgeous eyes shifting from emerald to a deep evergreen. And there’s something in her gaze—an emotion I can’t quite read—but it makes my heart roll over in my chest.

If these were different circumstances, I’d kiss her.

But they aren’t, and I’m not doing anything that could possibly hurt her.

Finally, Winter drags her gaze from mine. She glances over at the counter, where a crock pot I didn’t know I owned is plugged in, and says, “I started dinner. It’s pulled pork, and we can make sandwiches. Melt some cheese, put some coleslaw on top…”

Before I can say anything, she adds hurriedly, “I didn’t spend too long on it. Really, it’s super easy to make. And since I’m not working very much, I have time to do it.”

“Winter.” Part of me feels all warm inside that she did this, that she wanted to have dinner ready when I got home. But I know from some of the little things she’s let slip about Thomas, he used to force her to cook for him and she was always terrified she’d mess it up and be punished for it.

---