Page 17 of Stubborn Mountain Man

Dad shifted until his body was aimed toward mine and said, “Your mom and I only want what’s best for you. I know we were strict, but you were always a good kid. You’re still a good kid.”

I wasn’t a kid, but I knew to my parents I always would be. “Thank you,” I said, giving him a heartfelt smile. “You were good parents. Sometimes you just have to let me learn things the hard way, though.”

“Well, if this guy breaks your heart, I’ll kick his butt,” Dad said. “You can bet on that.”

Kane wouldn’t break my heart. There’d been a moment right before we drifted off to sleep that I was sure he was going to tell me he loved me. The look in his eyes told me all I’d needed to know. This was the real deal.

“So where exactly are you heading now?” my dad asked. “You can come back to the house. We’ll make you pancakes. Invite your boyfriend.”

I liked the sound of the word “boyfriend.” Husband would sound even better.

I shook my head. “Thanks, but I’m going to drive up to the cabin. I just wanted to let you and Mom know what was going on.”

My plan was to get back before Kane woke up. Having Dad come get me seemed like the quickest way to break the news to them. It felt like something that couldn’t wait.

“Do me a favor,” Dad said. “Get that ankle looked at.”

I nodded. “It’s a deal. I’ll have Kane drive me to urgent care today.”

As I limped over to my car, tossing the backpack in the back seat, I thanked God my left ankle was the one I’d injured. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to drive. And I’d have to drive back to Bozeman to get my laptop sometime this weekend so I could be ready for work on Monday.

I’d figure out all the other logistics later. Or Kane and I would figure them out…together.

10

KANE

Gillian was nowhere to be found. I realized halfway through my search of Sweetheart Falls that I was wasting my time.

First, I’d gone up to the overlook. That was the most likely place to find her. She would have headed back up and tried to set up the tent I’d taken down last night. There was no sign of her there.

So I’d taken a ride through downtown. But with no idea what kind of vehicle she drove, my only hope was that I’d happen to see her walking around in a parking lot or on the sidewalks of downtown.

Finally, hanging my head in defeat, I headed up to my cabin. That was when the surge of adrenaline started to fade and it hit me that this was truly over.

She was gone, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

The silver sedan parked in front of my cabin threw me for a second. I never had company, and I’d skipped having a driveway put in when I had the cabin built. That meant the driver had to park on the grass.

That car could only belong to one person. Still, I tried not to get my hopes up as I parked my bike and walked to my front door. It could be my first-ever door-to-door salesperson. But that would mean the unwelcome visitor was inside my cabin.

I always locked my doors, but I didn’t today, just in case Gillian came back. Maybe she’d gone for a stroll—or with her injured ankle, it would be more of a hop—around the property, and I’d missed her.

I was on guard as I pushed open the door, but I was instantly hit by the smell of bacon. That was accompanied by a sizzling sound that told me someone was cooking.

The dark clouds that had hovered over me parted, revealing the sun. Everything was fine. Better than fine. The love of my life was standing in my kitchen, wearing only a towel, her wet hair pulled back in a ponytail.

Gillian turned and gave me a big smile. “I hope you don’t mind. I made myself at home. I needed a shower, plus I was starving.”

I tossed my keys onto the table I kept next to the door and went straight to her, wrapping my arms around her and giving her a kiss so intense, she moaned against my lips. And that got me turned on all over again.

But she pulled away before I could undo the towel and lift her up on the counter to make love to her a fourth time. “I made pancakes.” She pointed to the counter with the spatula she was holding. “I can’t find the syrup, though.”

I was surprised she was able to pull pancakes together. I knew I had bacon. I kept that on hand for when I craved a BLT, but I definitely didn’t have pancake mix. She’d done it the old-fashioned way—eggs, flour, and whatever else went in pancakes. Hell if I knew.

“I have jelly,” I asked. “Would that work?”

Gillian eyed the stack of pancakes next to the plate with a napkin absorbing the grease from the bacon. “What about peanut butter? Maybe some chocolate syrup?”

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