Page 3 of Fighting for the Mountain Man

I realized that I’d still been holding it pretty firmly, and I released it. “Are we pretending to be a couple?” I asked, casting her a teasing look.

We were within steps of the front door of the house. It might be the last few seconds of alone time we’d get.

“I grabbed your hand to keep the women from trampling you,” she said.

She gave me a smile. I couldn’t see her eyes behind those lenses. I couldn’t wait for her to take them off and see the part of her face that I was missing out on.

“You might have wanted the mob chasing you down, though,” she added.

I shook my head and laughed. “The opposite. I don’t like attention.”

And that was the truth. I’d moved to the mountains after leaving the military because I wanted to live a solo life. Just work and maybe hang out and drink beers with the guys occasionally, but my dream was to be alone in a cabin with nobody bugging me most of the time. This whole tornado cleanup thing had tested the limits of my peopling.

But meeting this woman made me see what I’d been missing. Maybe locking myself away in a cabin in the middle of nowhere wasn’t as much of a dream life as I’d thought.

“They don’t want me anyway,” I said. “They’re all after the same guy.”

“Yeah, well, as soon as they saw you, I’m sure that was over.”

She muttered that under her breath, but I heard every word of it. I didn’t have time to mention it though, because she sprinted ahead of me and pushed her way into the house. Granted, there was a sign that said Come on in, but I was surprised she didn’t at least hesitate.

Maybe she was trying to get away from me. That thought hit me as I crossed the threshold and closed the door behind me. The fact that she’d continued straight back toward the kitchen area confirmed it. And that only made me want her more.

But fuck, what was I going to do if she didn’t want me back? If she not only wasn’t interested but was running from me, what could I do?

“We have pastries and bagels,” the way-too-cheerful volunteer who was manning the house was saying as I approached. “The one-cup coffeemaker is over there. Help yourself. Hi again, Bryce.”

Her attention suddenly shifted to me. She was my mom’s age and sweet as could be, but she had a flirtatious manner that had made me want to get the hell out of here earlier. That was all on me. I just didn’t like that much attention.

“Hello,” I said. “Just showing my girlfriend here where we keep the breakfast.”

The flirty woman’s eyes widened, as did my so-called girlfriend’s. Yes, I was still putting on the act that we were a couple. Or so it seemed.

“Sloane Swanson,” the woman said, thrusting out her hand toward the woman.

With a big smile, the woman returned the handshake. “Nadine Peters, retired schoolteacher. I’ve lived in this town my entire life, and I finally get the chance to give back to my community.”

“You’re a schoolteacher, so I’d say you’ve given plenty,” Sloane said. “But it’s nice to meet you. I’ll just take one of these.”

Sloane grabbed one of the small paper plates and plopped a bear claw onto it. Then she headed over to the one-cup coffeemaker.

“Excuse me,” Nadine said.

She left the room and walked straight to the front door, continuing out of the house. She held her phone in front of her, so I assumed she was taking a call, but I didn’t hear it ring.

“Strange,” I said.

“What?” Sloane asked, turning to look at me. The coffeemaker was churning and spitting on the counter next to her.

“Nothing.” I shook my head. I didn’t want to badmouth the woman. “So, you didn’t come here looking for Jax?”

She turned back around and grabbed a coffee cup. “I came here with three friends. We’re on a mission. If you want to know the truth, that is.”

“Mission?”

“To help out with tornado recovery and…”

She turned back around, pressing a lid onto the coffee cup. Yeah, just as I’d thought.

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