Page 3 of Rescued By the Mountain Man

“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked, coming to my side and plucking my hand from the water. My skin was red, but his callused thumb pressing into my skin didn’t make it any better. Even worse, I was acutely aware of my low-cut top and tiny shorts. No wonder he thought I was a hooker.

“No,” I yanked my hand away. “It was an accident.”

“You might need some burn cream anyway,” he said, stubble on his very firm jaw.

The way his dirty blond hair contrasted with his tan square face and eyes made my stomach lurch. He took tall, dark, and handsome to a new level—too bad he was an asshole.

“I’ll go find some in the EMT emergency medical kit I brought with me,” I drawled sarcastically. “I’ll be fine.”

Irritation seeped out of him like a slow, controlled leak. His temper was in check, but I studied him with caution. This was hardly the best way to engage with my boss, but…I wasn’t to be blamed for this.

“We’ll sort this out in the morning,” I said while heading to the bedroom.

“Excuse me?” he said, “Where are you going?”

“To sleep,” I replied slowly, as if I was speaking to a stubborn puppy. “You know, that is what a bedroom is for.”

“That is my bed,” he said. “I’m sorry, but you will have to sleep somewhere else.”

I ground my teeth. I wanted to snap at him that I’d been on the road for two days straight and that I was on edge more than a fucking whore in the middle of Easter service. “Aren’t you a gentleman? Wouldn’t a gentleman let the lady have the bed? Especially one who has been on the road for almost three days?” I sent him a simpering smile. “Please?”

His jaw tensed, but his nod was quick. “This night only. Tomorrow, I will speak with Laura and get this mess sorted out.”

“Thank you,” I said, partly genuinely and partly sarcastically.

Leaving for the room beyond, I closed the door behind me, sat on the edge of the bed, and rested the cup on the bedside table. “Well, fuck me. What did I just walk myself into?”

Warrick Donovan was the perfect cowboy: rugged, wealthy, and objectively handsome as sin. He’d be perfect for me…if he wasn’t my boss and an entitled asshole. Besides, I was not looking for any attachment now; all I needed to do was keep my head down and keep out of the spotlight. I didn’t need a boyfriend, I did not need a lover, and I certainly did not need attention.

Sighing, I sipped my tea and finished, covered the cup with a piece of paper, laid against the pillows and headboard, and looked at my hand. It was not burning anymore from the tea—but damned if I didn’t feel his scorching touch…and hate myself for liking it.

Chapter Two

Warrick

Punching the lumpy pillow on the even lumpier couch, I huffed and turned on my back, trying—and failing—to find a comfortable position to go to sleep. “I should have demanded my bed.”

I could blame the couch all I wanted, but I damn well knew it wasn’t the reason I wasn’t asleep.

Zara.

After a long day of meetings with the mayor about the dormant ranch lands that I planned to lease to the town to make a park and hiking trail, I had not expected to find a pretty woman there. Forgive me for making assumptions.

Speaking of pretty….

My unexpected housemate was pretty, even while spitting fire from every pore of her body.

Dark, winged eyebrows, large almond eyes, button nose, and killer bone structure.

The way she’d crossed her arms under her breasts, that blue silk slip of nothing that was not hiding a damn thing, might have distracted me for a minute or two. Her hair was wild and tumbled, and she was…well. She was something to look at.

Zara.

She struck me as a stubborn soul, and on any other day, I would admire such tenacity…if only I weren't just as hardheaded.

Forcing my mind away from my soon-to-be assistant, I thought about the problems from the meeting with the mayor. I’d been floating ideas about the Processing Plant to the town council for years, and judging by the dozens of times the idea had been booted back to me, it was as likely to happen this year as much as my growing my herd from 100 to of 200 steers overnight.

For the past four years, the butchery and processing plant I’d proposed for the town had been sent to the Town Council, escalated to the mayor’s office, and sent off to the County…only to get kicked back, forcing the process to start again…and again…and again. Every year, something more was added to the petition, or something was added that did not need to be there.

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