Page 31 of Mountain Man Bad Boy

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.” I blushed.

“Should we go inside?” He took me gently by the elbow, leading me toward the door.

In that innocent touch, a thousand angels sang, poems were written, and a flock of doves released into the night. I leaned toward him, careful to watch my feet as I crossed the threshold. This was everything I had hoped for and more. We didn’t have to say anything, and yet we both knew where the night would end. I fought to keep my breath even as we waited for a table.

There was a new waitress on duty, one who clearly knew Porter. She nodded to him politely. He nodded back, accepting her invitation to occupy a booth in the corner. I slid down opposite him, my eyes locked on his face. I didn’t even register the menu as the waitress slid it in front of me.

“Soup tonight is onion. Fish is flounder. Special is meatloaf. Do you know what you want to drink?” she said in a rapid-fire cadence.

“Just water,” Porter answered.

I didn’t understand the question, stunned as I was to be sitting across from him, so far from the hospital. He didn’t look anything like the cautious addict who had spent his days playing video games and reading the Bible. He was in his element here, and I was the stranger.

“Do you want a soda?” Porter asked.

“Um, just water,” I recovered, electing to order what he had chosen. The waitress left us alone, but I got the feeling she would as soon see us out the door as linger. “I want to apologize,” I began.

“No need,” he said. “I understand.”

“It’s just that if I gave you my phone number while we were still at the treatment center—” I tried again.

“Gina,” he called me back to planet Earth. “I understand. You could’ve lost your job.”

“But you seemed angry.”

“A bit,” he admitted. “I thought you didn’t want to see me, but I realize now that’s clearly not the case.”

I laughed, blushing and looking down at my lap.

The waitress came back with two glasses of water. “Ready to order?” she asked.

“Give us a minute, please,” Porter responded, smiling sweetly.

She nodded, some of her hard reserve cracking away. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to tell him why I’d come.

“I didn’t like the way we left things. I didn’t want you to think that you were just any other patient to me because you weren’t. You aren’t. So, here I am, back in my hometown after all this time.”

“Does your dad know you’re in town?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Not yet. I didn’t want to make things any more awkward than they might already be.”

He nodded and took a sip of his water. “So, you took the day off?” he prodded.

“I took vacation.”

“Does anybody in Nashville know you’re here?”

“Nope.” I grinned, reaching for my water.

“Would anybody be mad if they found you here?” He narrowed his eyes conspiratorially.

“Yes.” I gulped, licking my lips. “Possibly.”

“Okay.” He nodded, taking a drink from his own cup. “Because my sober brothers and sisters would read me the riot act if they knew what I was doing.”

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