Page 3 of Trapped with the Mountain Man

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t even know where he’d keep tools like that.”

“Maybe behind the counter?” I asked.

I started toward her, breezing past her to go behind the counter. She smelled like summer. Like the beach. It took a second for me to realize she probably had on some sort of suntan oil. She’d been in the tanning bed when I arrived, after all. Or maybe she always smelled like coconuts.

“I’m texting my coworker to see if she knows where a screwdriver would be,” she said.

“Don’t.”

The word came out more abruptly than I’d intended. Her eyes were wide as her head popped up.

“I don’t want it to get back to your boss that I fucked up his lock,” I blurted.

Oh crap. I’d just admitted I was the cause of this. I was supposed to be her hero right now, not the man making her life more difficult.

That thought gave me pause. Why did I want to be her hero? I’d just met her. Still, there was no denying this draw I had toward her. This feeling that I could fall in love with this woman.

Focus on the task at hand, Clay, I thought to myself. I deliberately tore my gaze away and started opening drawers and cabinets, looking for anything that I might be able to wedge between the door and the door jamb.

“Did you break in?” she asked.

“The alarm was going off,” I said without looking at her.

“So you did it to save me.”

Well, I technically didn’t know it was her at the time. But I wanted her to see me as her hero, so who was I to correct that?

“Yes,” I said. “I’m still early on in my firefighter training, but that’s what we do.”

“You’re part of the volunteer fire department?”

Hadn’t I mentioned that already? I was pretty sure I had. But in all the chaos, I couldn’t blame her for forgetting.

“Name’s Clay,” I said, coming around the counter. I’d exhausted the whole area and found nothing. But I was holding out a hand as I stepped toward her. “I’ve only been in town a few months.”

She eyed my hand warily for a second, then extended her own. “Amber,” she said. “I’ve lived here all my life. Moved away for college, then came back when my friend said she could get me a job here. I needed something that could pay the bills but would also let me work on my graphic design stuff when things were slow.”

Graphic design. So my girl was creative. Smart and beautiful. A killer combination.

Wait, since when did I start calling her my girl? It sounded right, though. The more I rolled it around in my head, the more I wanted it to be true. And one thing my buddies knew about me was that when I set my mind to something, I got it.

This might be a bit more challenging, though, especially since she was looking at me with confusion. Her gaze suddenly lowered to where our hands joined, and I realized we’d been shaking for an abnormally long time.

Yeah, that was my bad. I liked the way her hand felt in mine. I liked her being close to me too, that coconut smell drifting over to me. I liked everything about this. But I had to step away, or I’d freak her out.

“Is there anywhere else he might keep tools?” I asked, withdrawing my hand and looking around. “A closet?” I looked up toward the ceiling. “Maybe an attic?”

“I’ll help you look,” Amber said.

That gave us a chance to separate. And separation was something I needed right now. I needed a little space—just to get my head clear.

As I headed toward the back, though, I glanced over my shoulder at the door. No sign of a fire truck or the sheriff outside. Yeah, it was becoming clear that the alarm was not connected to a monitoring service. No help was coming. I’d have to find a way out on my own.

And in the meantime, I was trapped here with this woman who was gradually taking over all my thoughts. And the part of me that wanted to be her hero was at war with the part of me that wanted to be stuck here with her for the rest of my life.

I wondered which part would win out in the end.

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