Page 33 of Rescued By the Mountain Man

I didn’t believe her. “Breakfast is at six around here.”

She left the patio, and I listened to her footsteps echo as she headed inside and up. It was only when they faded that I allowed myself to slump into my seat, my body folding in on itself.

Ever since the accident, I’d given up on that part of my life; what woman wanted an almost crippled has-been like me, who had fallen so far down the totem pole that I, the lowest item on it, felt miles higher than I could ever be?

I pressed a hand to the tent in my pants, groaning at knowing that it was going to be a night with my hand as fire and a scorching kiss as fuel. I was already on the brink, god-damn it. Where was the old me who could stay aroused for hours and tease and taunt a woman in my bed without going off like an atomic bomb?

Apparently not post-accident Warrick.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I eased up to slide it out. Just as I was beginning to relax, my blood pressure went up ten notches.

“We need to talk. Please come to the town hall tomorrow by nine—G.”

G, as in Gregory Treeve, the mayor. He had not said what the meeting was about—most likely, it was about the fair—but who knew?

Grunting, I replied, “I will be there.”

Heaving up, I trudged to my rooms, all sparks of arousal not dead and gone.

The bedroom was larger than the apartment I’d been living in during my rodeo days, and even in the shadows, I could navigate the room. The bed was the principal feature; there was no way I could avoid it, and as I got closer, I stripped—shirt near the doorway, boots near the chest of drawers that was taller than I was, belt looped over the dresser, and pants near the foot of the bed.

Maria had sourced the bedding for the massive wood-framed bed, and a thick blue comforter covered the mattress. The bed was tucked into the corner. Heavy-looking blue curtains hung over the four windows opposite the bed, and the whole room smelled like mountain air and pine, clean and fresh.

Clad in boxer-briefs, I slid my hands under my head and tried to think about this meeting, but my thoughts strayed to Zara.

I could still taste her, feel her, alive and solid, having her on my lap, pressing right against my cock, and when we finally separated, the dark in her eyes had grown wide with desire, leaving only a thin rim of her green irises.

This was the worst timing in creation.

Why did my libido suddenly come to a roaring resurrection with the one woman I could not dare touch?

“Looking at my past, I’m pretty sure I’m cursed,” I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes and groaned. “Good, I need a few days up on the cabin with nothing more than my fishing rod and silence.”

My ranch was on the hills, yes, but my grandpa had built a hunting cabin up in tranquil Yellowstone, right by the river; that spot gave me a sweeping view of the Absaroka Mountain Range and was a prime stargazing spot.

Maybe after all this fair business was done, I could escape up there for a weekend or three days. I was a mountain man at heart, even though I rarely got the time to be there. Turning on my side, I drew the covers up and listened to a Great Horned Owl—a precious little critter who lived in the elm tree near my room that I’d named Rusty—hoot, a strange lullaby that sent me to sleep.

I flicked that morning’s paper’s page to local news and read a brief piece about the fair and the in-rush of tourists, most of whom were returning guests but some new, all agog to see the rodeo.

Marie rested a cup of coffee before me as dawn’s pink light began to slide through the windowpanes. “You’re up early?”

I eyed her. “I’m always up this early. I am a rancher, remember.”

“That you are,” she said, and I damn well heard the sly tone. It made my gut twist.

Looking up, I watched as she shared the bacon and hash into the serving pans while that smirk narrowed my eyes. After a long, awkward moment, I dropped the paper and asked, “Okay, what has bitten your buns?”

“Not as much as the one who has bitten yours,” she smiled.

God no—she’d seen us, hadn’t she?

I rubbed my eyes. “Don’t say anything, Marie. If they guys get a word of that, I will never live it down.”

“Oh, I know,” she replied. “I’ve heard them joke about how much of a spitfire she is and how she keeps you on your toes.”

“I can’t do it, Marie,” I admitted. “I know she’s beautiful and smart, but I will not be that perv boss people flash on the news or blast on social media. It sucks that she is the one who made me feel…something again, but it’s just bad timing.”

She sat my plate down. “Maybe it is bad timing, but she is the right person, Warrick.”

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