Page 44 of Mountain Hero

“And if he comes here,” Ronan added with a narrowed glare, “we’ll know. There’s no way that fucker is getting close to Winter again.”

Unless she has her way and we move forward with this whole trap idea, which makes me feel sick when I think about it.

But.

I’m not thinking about that today.

Today is supposed to be special.

Winter has been through so much, and she never complains. Not about the nightmares or the flashbacks she tries to hide or her struggles to get her business up and running again. She never talks about the fear and anxiety that plague her every day. And while I know it’s hard for her being stuck here—not getting to go hiking or take trips or any of the summery things she hoped to do—Winter never has a negative thing to say about it.

She’s pretty damn amazing, really.

If things were normal, I’d have taken Winter out by now. First casual dates, like brunch at Breakfast Bliss, the all-day breakfast diner with the best cinnamon rolls I’ve ever had.

I would have brought her on a hike, maybe north along the Long Trail if it wasn’t too buggy. Or we could have packed a lunch and taken the easy loop up and around Pearson’s Peak, stopping to take pictures by the waterfall.

If I could, I’d take her out for a nice dinner—Italian at Mariano’s or the new farm-to-table restaurant that just opened the next town over.

We could head into Waterbury to visit the Cabot Creamery and the Ben and Jerry’s Factory—two places Winter’s never been but would love to see.

But we can’t, because asshole Thomas is still out there.

And while I’m confident in my ability to protect Winter here, I’m not willing to risk taking her out in public. She might be on board with this whole using herself as bait idea, but I’m still not sold on it. Not when it puts her at risk.

So, after some brainstorming the last couple of nights, I decided to do something special here instead.

Is it the same as going out to Mariano’s or tasting ice cream and cheese in Waterbury? Not quite.

Will Winter like it anyway? I really hope so.

To start off the day, I’m in the kitchen, waiting for Winter to meet me out here for coffee like she always does. It’s become one of our things—she comes out all bleary-eyed, still in her pajamas, hair all tousled and cheeks flushed from sleep—and we have coffee and talk until she’s fully awake and I have to rush off to the store so I don’t open up late.

This morning, though, I have things planned a little differently.

At five after seven, Winter comes into the kitchen, blinking at the sunlight streaming in through the windows. She’s wearing my old Army sweatshirt—I lent it to her one night when she was cold and I haven’t gotten it back since—and it’s so long it covers her sleep shorts, making it look like she has nothing on under it.

And that’s something I shouldn’t be thinking about right now. Winter in nothing but my sweatshirt, all creamy skin and soft curves and the tattoo on her hip that I’ve only heard about but never seen…

Fortunately, I’m behind the island, so Winter can’t see what she’s unintentionally doing to me. Instead, she looks at me, then the top of the island; her brows winging up in surprise.

“Enzo?” Her gaze moves across the veritable buffet of food on display, eyes widening as she takes it all in. “What is all this?”

“Well—” I gesture at the plates with a small flourish and grin at her. “It’s breakfast. What else could it be?”

It’s more than breakfast, though. It’s nearly every item on the menu at Breakfast Bliss—those amazing cinnamon rolls, muffins bursting with giant blueberries, stacks of crispy bacon and sizzling sausage, a giant bowl of freshly cut fruit, a mountain of pancakes, and an extra-cheesy ham and Swiss quiche.

“How?” Winter crosses the kitchen, stopping at the island to inspect the food again. “Where did all this…”

“Breakfast Bliss. I wanted to make a nice breakfast, but I thought theirs would be much better than anything I could come up with.”

“But Enzo… How did you get this all here?” Sunlight catches her eyes, picking up sparks of gold and amber amid the brilliant green. “There’s no way you found someone to deliver all this.”

Normally, she’d be right. If we lived in a city, I could easily call a service for delivery. But in Bliss, we have exactly one Uber driver, and he only works from six to eight on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. Any other time, we’re on our own.

“I called in a favor.” At her questioning look, I explain, “I asked Knox to do it. He dropped everything off ten minutes ago.”

“Oh.” Winter’s hand twitches toward the plate of cinnamon rolls, but she stops herself. “That was nice of him. But… there’s so much food. And don’t you have to go to work soon?”

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