Page 3 of Longing for the Mountain Man

But Rob wasn’t bothered in the least by that. In fact, it looked like he was up to something.

“Trace, why don’t you help her out with lunch?” Rob asked. “I’ll stay here and deal with this.”

“She seems to have everything under control,” I told him.

“Actually, I could use some help.” The woman flashed me another smile. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Presley.”

She thrust out a hand, and this time it didn’t have a business card in it. But that didn’t mean she had good motives. None of this meant that.

“I’m Rob, and this is Trace,” the guy I thought was my friend said. “We were in the military together. Trace here talked me into moving to Rosewood Ridge.”

She didn’t need to know all that. In fact, the more she knew about me, the harder it would be to keep my distance. I was already having a tough time looking at her without thinking about what it might be like to kiss her. And kissing would lead to other things…

“We could just do a bunch of pizzas,” I said. “That would be easiest.”

“In this heat?” Rob asked. “I mean, I’m cool with it, but I think after sweating our asses off all morning, something light might be better.”

“We could just run by the grocery store and grab a bunch of stuff,” Presley said.

I turned back to her. She was staring at me as if we were working together on this and she needed my feedback. Oh, right. We were working together on this, apparently.

“Let’s go,” I said. “We can hop in my truck.”

She looked surprised. Maybe she expected me to fight it a little. But what I wanted to say was, “Let’s get this over with.”

I wished I felt that way about it. I really did. But weird thoughts were going through my brain. Thoughts that had no place there. Thoughts of going grocery shopping with a woman—something very domestic and something I would’ve said just hours ago was not in the cards for me. Ever.

So why all of a sudden did the thought of domestic life fill me with hope? Why was I thinking grocery shopping with a beautiful woman would be the best thing I’d done all summer?

3

PRESLEY

Being from a small town, I was used to not having a super-sized grocery store within a few minutes of my house. But we’d been lucky enough to live only twenty minutes from one growing up, and now I lived in a town with not one, not two, but three large grocery stores.

That was probably why I’d forgotten what it was like trying to round up groceries in a small-town grocery store. By the time we walked out with bags of food, drinks, cups, plates, and napkins, I wasn’t sure what had just happened. All I knew was having someone to grocery shop with was nice. Especially when that guy was a hot military vet who’d been far more helpful than I would have expected.

“I’ll help you make sandwiches for everyone,” he said as I settled my tote bag on the floor at my feet.

If it bugged Trace that I was carrying that canvas bag everywhere with me, he didn’t show it. In fact, he hadn’t mentioned anything at all about the reason I was in town.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I said, figuring it was best to address the elephant in the room—or in the truck, as the case may be. “My boss pays me well. In fact, he kind of saved me from being evicted from my apartment. He paid my back rent and quadrupled what I was making as an administrative assistant for the city.”

“So, you feel like you owe him,” he said. “How long have you worked for this guy?”

“Eight months.” I sighed. “And the confusing thing is, I really like the job. I love getting out and meeting people rather than being stuck in an office all day. It’s not like he runs his business trolling disaster sites. This is the first one, actually. He sends me to home and garden expos, local networking events, restaurants…”

He glanced over at me, frown firmly in place. “Restaurants?”

“We do those ‘get a free dinner for listening to our presentation’ things. I’m sure you’ve gotten junk mail about that kind of thing.”

“Not really.” He shook his head. “You don’t see much of that around Rosewood Ridge.”

I made a mental note to tell my boss to broaden the reach of his mailers. If he wasn’t hitting small towns, he was missing some good opportunities.

“My point is, until now, I loved my job,” I said. “Today has me rethinking things.”

Now he was the one who sighed. “I don’t want to put you in an awkward position. It’s not your fault. Look, get to know the people of this town. Get to really know them. Look at what the tornado victims are going through, and then, if you can still, with good conscience, hand out your business card?—”

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