Page 15 of Rescued By the Mountain Man

He laughed, a dark, husky sound that sent shivers down my spine, “Tell me about it.”

We got to the outskirts of town just in time for the rain to start coming down, and as I looked over the fairgrounds, I saw— “Are those lightning rods?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “This high in the hills, it's only sensible to have those. They are scattered all around town, too, and hooked up to solar batteries.”

We passed the diner to see Sam pulling down storm shutters before darting to his vehicle and hopping in. A jagged fork of lightning carved the sky in two, and the snapping roll of thunder had me jumping hard enough that my head bumped on the cabin's roof.

“Ouch,” I groaned, pressing my hand to my aching head.

“Scared of thunder?” he asked.

“Who isn’t?”

“No one in this town.”

“Lucky them.”

The brief flashes of lightning kept me on edge, while the sound of thunder had long since been drowned out by the crash of the rain on the windshield. The lightning seemed to favor the mountain tops, and I was suddenly concerned.

“How do your bulls do with storms like this?” I asked, keeping an eye on the road, hoping we would get to the inn quickly.

“They don’t give a damn,” he replied as we drove past the gate of the inn. “But instinct makes them find shelter under trees, and they huddle to share warmth. They’re hardy animals, Miss Harrington. They don’t need to be coddled.”

“Zara, please,” I said, unsure I wanted to hear someone call me Miss Harrington multiple times a day.

“What?”

“Call me Zara, please,” I replied, “You can add a Miss in front if you want, but my full surname feels pretentious and unnecessary.”

He parked the truck and looked over at me, his eyes shadowed under the brim of his hat. “If you wish.”

The rain was driving hard, and I sucked in a breath, knowing I had to run for it. “Ready?”

A hat was plucked on top of my head just before he popped the inner handle and ran for it, opening the door in record time for me to follow. It was only seven feet, but I was drenched to the bone by the time I got inside and plucked the hat off my head—a fat lump of luck that was.

I was still touched by the gesture though.

Resting the hat on a hook, I paused to take my boots off, not wanting to track water into the floor, and then headed to the bathroom. I trusted Warrick to give me my privacy, and even if I had to dash to the bedroom naked, I think he would have the decency not to look.

Lightning and thunder crashed around us; the sound on the roof increased to deafening as I got the water running. Here inside our tiny hideaway, we were ensconced in a small bastion of peace.

The wet slap of my clothes on the tile sounded obscene as I stepped under the warm spray and sighed under the water. I knew I was toeing the line of keeping my head down and standing out, but I hardly thought the would-be killers would trace me to the middle of nowhere and question some random ranchers.

As the water coasted over me, I tried not to think of seeing Warrick half naked last night—but failed.

Thinking about the rugged rancher naked in the shower stirred feelings I thought long dormant until I saw the male body, so perfectly proportioned. The sight made my gut twist. I’d never felt that butterflies-in-the-stomach sensation before, but goddamn, the butterflies in my gut had razor wings.

I still felt miffed about how he had taken me for a ho, but he’d apologized, hadn’t he?

Stepping into the shower, my nipples hardened at the temperature change. Letting the warm water relax my pores, I reached for the soap and lathered up. As I slid the cloth across my breasts, my tender nipples made me hiss; the temptation to stop and pleasure myself was rife, but I could not—not here and certainly not to a fantasy about my boss.

I knew he wanted to get into the shower, too, and it would be a dick move to use up all the hot water. As I washed off, I heard the door open and then close; curious, I moved the curtain to see that Warrick had hung my robe on the hook on the back of the door.

A smile flitted on my lips.

Underneath all that scruff and gruff, he is a nice guy, isn’t he? What more is there about Warrick Donovan that I don’t know yet?

“When I get that phone, I’ll probably know more than I need to know.”

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