Page 2 of Waiting for the Mountain Man

“I’m just…”

I paused there. No other words came out. What? Looking for Jax? That was the Cyclone Stud’s name. I could say that, and maybe he’d direct me toward the guy.

But I didn’t want to walk out of here and go hang out with the Cyclone Stud. No, I wanted to spend more time around this guy. I had to see if beneath that crusty exterior was a heart of gold that beat for only one woman. The woman he loved.

“I’m here to help,” I said. “Drove here from Chattanooga. Someone said to come to this house. That you needed help.”

It was a long shot. The guy could very well not even be helping with tornado recovery. Maybe the homeowner had hired him to come board up the window. Or he could be the person who owned this house—with a wife off at work somewhere and a kid or two in daycare.

The guy stepped down from the ladder, setting the hammer on the top rung. Then he turned to face me, arms crossed over his chest.

“Who?” he asked.

I frowned, the question having thrown me off guard. “Who what?”

“Who sent you here?”

Oh, shit. I didn’t have a good answer for that. I shrugged and said, “I don’t know. Some guy.”

I could have said “you mountain men all look alike,” but this guy stood out to me in every way. I hadn’t felt this kind of attraction to anyone going back as far as I could remember. Maybe ever.

“Fine,” he said. “Hold these nails.”

He grabbed a box from the second rung of the ladder and handed it over to me. Then, hammer in hand, he moved the stepladder to the right and climbed up on it again.

He reached a hand toward me. “Nail.”

I moved into place next to him, holding up a nail. He didn’t even look at me as he reached over. As a result, his hand collided with mine, sending sparks shooting through me.

Eyes wide, I looked up at him just in time to see the hammer drop. With the loudest bang ever, it slammed against the tile floor.

“Fuck,” he said, withdrawing his hand. “Shit. Fuck.”

I winced at each shouted profanity. I grew up in a relatively quiet household with a stepdad who rarely raised his voice and a mom who meditated or drank a glass of wine when she was stressed.

But for some reason, I was attracted to grumps. Guys with big muscles who shouted when they dropped a hammer. I just wasn’t quite prepared for how loud it would be.

“I’ll get it.” I knelt to reach for it at the same time he moved on the ladder, sending it tilting slightly toward me.

I overcompensated as I swayed backward. That was how I ended up on my butt with a box full of nails on the floor all around me.

And then I was the one screaming, “Fuck” as I tried to deal with the embarrassment of making a complete fool of myself in front of this guy—the most handsome man I’d ever met.

So much for seducing him. I couldn’t even get past the “getting to know you” portion of the day.

But I could make this happen. I just had to stop being so nervous and start being the kickass woman I knew I could be.

2

DENVER

Bryce sent this woman here. It had to be Bryce.

I was being pranked. That was the only explanation for why this gorgeous redhead with curves for days was now sprawled on the floor next to me. And surrounding that gorgeous woman was an entire box of spilled nails I’d now have to pick up.

But none of that explained why I was so annoyed right now. No, that would be something I couldn’t put my finger on. It was the fact that I was more worried about this woman’s safety than how she’d messed up my work site.

“Are you okay?” I asked, standing over her, hand on each hip.

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