Page 6 of Tempting the Mountain Man

I’m wiping down the counter, lost in thought, when Sophie’s voice breaks through my reverie. “Polly? I’m heading out now. Are you sure you don’t need anything else?”

I look up, surprised to see how late it’s gotten. “No, I’m good. Thanks, Sophie. See you tomorrow.”

As the door closes behind Sophie, the bakery is empty except for me, and I feel a pang of sadness. Gabe hasn’t come in today. I’vecome to look forward to his visits, but his absence today is an enormous ache in my heart.

When the bell chimes one last time, I turn, expecting someone coming in after a hike up to the waterfalls. But my heart thumps hard in my chest instead.

“Gabe, hi,” I say, nervously wiping my hands on my apron. Relief floods me that he’s here, but I still can’t get past the deep sadness I felt when I thought he wasn’t coming in today.

“Hey,” he says, his smile warm and familiar. When I don’t respond right away, he crosses the bakery to stand across the counter from me. His forehead creases as his beautiful light brown eyes narrow. “Are you okay? You look stressed.”

I try to smile, but I know it’s forced. After everything with the mixer, I can’t hide my feelings like I usually would with a customer. “Oh, you know. Just one of those days.”

Gabe steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine. I squirm under his full attention, but I can feel my walls crumbling. “What’s going on? How can I help?”

I hesitate, conflicted. I’ve always prided myself on being independent, on handling my problems. Asking for help, especially from a man, brings back uncomfortable memories of my ex’s condescension. But this is Gabe. In all the times we’ve talked, he hasn’t shown himself to be anything like my ex.

Taking a deep breath, I make a decision. “Actually, I could use some help.”

“What needs doing?” Gabe stands slightly straighter and his muscles flex like he’ll do anything I ask him to.

I explain the situation with the mixer, watching as understanding dawns on his face. When I finish, he doesn’t hesitate for a second.

“Of course I can help with that,” he says, his voice firm and reassuring. “What’s the size and weight of it?”

I tell him, and he nods.

“No problem. I can handle that on my own. I’ll need to head up to Chuck’s and empty the supplies in my truck, and then I’ll take you to pick it up.”

Gratitude and relief rush through me.Everything is going to be alright. “Gabe, that would be amazing. Can Chuck spare you?”

He waves off my concern. “It’s no trouble at all. That’s what friends are for, right?”

Friends. The word sends a little thrill through me, even as I wish it meant something more.

“Are you sure?” I ask, still hesitant. “I don’t want to impose.”

Gabe’s expression turns serious. “Polly, look at me.” I meet his gaze, my stomach fluttering at the intensity in his eyes. “You’re not imposing. I want to help. Let me do this for you, okay?”

I nod, warmth spreading through me. Having a man support me, even a friend, is new and welcome. “Okay. Thank you, Gabe. Really.”

He grins, and I swear the whole bakery gets brighter. “Great. I’ll hightail it up to the cabin, then I’ll be back here within the hour. Sound good?”

I smile and nod, happiness filling my soul, then call the supplier to confirm that I’ll be picking up the mixer today.

“That should do it,”Gabe says, placing the new mixer against the wall and picking up the old one.

I watch his muscles flex as he lifts the heavy equipment, and warmth pools in my core. My mind drifts to what it would feel like to trace my fingertips over his muscles, to feel them flex beneath my touch.

“You are my hero,” I say, wanting to give him a bear hug. After honestly not knowing how I would get the mixer in time to keep my business running smoothly, Gabe turned out to be the kind of supportive and reliable man I wasn’t sure I’d ever find.

Gabe’s cheeks flush, and he gestures to the old mixer. “What do you want to do with the old one? Is that something that can be fixed? Or should it go to the dump?”

I think for a moment. “The dump. It’s old. It’d probably cost more to fix than what I paid for this new one.”

“Got it. I’ll put it in the truck and take it to the dump tomorrow.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” I say, my voice thick with gratitude. “You’ve literally saved me and the bakery. How can I repay you? Aside from promising you a lifetime supply of apple turnovers.”

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