Page 3 of The Mountain Man's Siren

He tosses my phone back onto the bed and crosses the room to his dresser.

Pulling open the top drawer, he assembles a phone and turns it on. I watch him, too nervous to do my usual babbling.

My clothes are on the other side of the room where I left them in a heap on the back of his rocking chair. My leopard print bra and matching panties are clearly on display for him to see.

Meanwhile Mr. Hottie in the Towel dials a number. As soon as a voice on the other end answers, he practically shouts, “Did you do this to me? Did you send me a woman?”

He listens for a second but whatever the other person says does nothing to erase the irritation on his face. “Fuck you. A blonde showed up at my place, swearing that her uncle had rented it online. Looking about as lost as Goldilocks.”

He grunts at the response before saying, “The roads are already impassible. I’m stuck with a roommate for the snowstorm.”

I swallow as he hangs up the phone. He thrusts his fingers through his thick, blonde hair. He’s almost cute in a Chris Hemsworth but with no social graces kind of way.

He disassembles the phone and places it back in the drawer. Then he marches to a door and slams it closed behind himself.

For a moment, I sit on the bed and wonder what to do. Today has been one of those endlessly weird days. Since he’s gone, I sprint up from the bed and grab for my clothes in the chair. I shimmy into my bra and panties just as the door opens again.

When the hottie from earlier emerges, he’s wearing a soft blue t-shirt that makes his eyes look deeper than the ocean and a pair of jeans that perfectly squeeze his sculpted thighs. Some girls are arm girls. I’m a thigh girl and I want his strong things wrapping around my hips as he drives into me.

My mountain man scowls and holds up two fingers. “The first rule of being here is we are not friends. You’re not here to get to know me. You’re not here to ask questions or make conversation.”

“Am I allowed to ask what the second rule is? Or is that breaking the first? Still, it feels like the first one shouldn’t go into effect until I know all of them.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m a nervous babbler. I can’t help it. Being here alone with you makes me nervous.”

He probably hates me already. Not that I should care what he thinks. But it would be nice to not be lonely the entire time I’m here. Even if we can’t be friends as he pointed out, I can still talk to him. Right? Was that against his rules? It was hard to follow all of it. He has the most perfect Cupid’s bow and it totally distracted me.

His gaze drops to my breasts and my nipples harden to little points. “The second rule is that you wear clothes. All the time. Turtlenecks and long shapeless pants.”

I blink at him, not sure why he should care what I wear. “What’s your name?”

“See?” He scowls. “That’s a violation of the rules.”

I huff and reach for my cute leggings that hug my ass. Bending, I put them on and tug the tight material into place. So, I may not have an ideal body type according to the media and most of the guys I know, but it’s me. It’s my skin and I’ve worked hard to see something beautiful when I look into the mirror.

When I straighten and glance over my shoulder, lust flickers across his expression. “Don’t you want to knowmyname?” I ask, licking my lips. I hope the move is seductive and not like I’ve just seen a basket of chicken wings on sale.

“Your name is Goldilocks,” he grunts and stomps out of the room.

“Well then you’re the big bad wolf,” I grumble behind him. Something makes a howling sound outside and I shiver. I’m not sure if it’s better to be with the wolf outside or the one inside.

I grab my oversized t-shirt with the word “Fierce” written on it. So, I don’t exactly feel fierce today. But that’s kind of why I needed it—to remind myself of what’s true even in moments I don’t feel it.

While he’s gone, I reach for my phone and call Uncle Micah. Or at least, I try to. My stupid phone won’t let the call go through. Leaving the bedroom, I pace around the house in hopes that I’ll find a better connection.

I didn’t look at more than the kitchen and living room when I first arrived. I was too tired and in desperate need of some sleep.

But the room I’ve stepped into looks like it’s straight out ofBeauty and the Beast. It’s a beautiful big library with floor to ceiling bookshelves. The shelves are lined with hundreds of books, all neatly organized and just waiting to be read.

There’s even a crackling fireplace with cozy armchairs. It’s the kind of reading nook I could lose myself in for hours. I think of all my late nights staying up reading and imagine myself here.

Glancing down at my phone, it still doesn’t have service. I hold it up as high as I can, but nothing changes.

“The towers are fuckin’ down,” the mountain man growls from one of the armchairs.

I didn’t even realize he was in the room, and I let out a little yelp. I thought I was completely alone in here. I’m glad I didn’t do anything embarrassing like pulling the books off the shelf just to sniff them.

One side of his mouth quirks up like he half-remembers how to smile. “Are you afraid to be alone with the big bad wolf, Goldilocks?”

3

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