Page 4 of The Mountain Man's Siren

OWEN

She shakesher head when I ask her if she’s afraid of the big bad wolf. I should probably do something gentlemanly and reassure her that she’s safe and she can ride out the snowstorm here in peace.

But I know better. The thoughts I have toward this blonde beauty are anything but gentlemanly. The moment I open my mouth to reassure her, I’ll want to act on them. So, it’s better that she realizes I’m an asshole.

“This is kind of like out of a storybook. This library is,” she clarifies. “Only not so much today. Because today has kind of sucked ass. Unless today was one of those old fairytales. Did you know most of the original Brother Grimm stories weren’t all that happy? Like the mermaid she turned into sea foam rather than kill the man she loved. That’s really sad.” She finally stops talking when she has to draw in a breath.

For some reason, I find her babbling almost endearing. I take a small sip from my snifter. “Do you like brandy?”

She hesitates. It’s the first time she’s ever opened her mouth and not spoken. Oddly enough, I like the sound of her voice. I dismiss the idea instantly, telling myself it’s only because I haven’t had a woman’s company in years. “I’m underage.”

“Fuck me.” I grind my back molars together.

She creeps closer to the empty chair that’s only a few inches from my own. “You cuss a lot. Has anyone ever told you that? Why isn’t there a Mrs. Grumpy around? It seems like there should be. After all, this library is cozy. I’d marry a guy with a big library.” She stops and claps a hand over her mouth, her cheeks going bright pink.

I want to strip her down right here in front of the fireplace and discover the boundary lines of that blush. I want to see all of her pretty pink places. Dammit, I’m definitely going to hell. “How old are you?” My voice sounds like I just swallowed glass.

She lifts her chin. “Twenty.”

I frown at her. Specialized training in body language has taught me that everyone has a tell. Hers is lifting her chin. I file the information away for further use.Stop it, fucker. There will be no further use.

Guilt crosses her features. “OK, so more like nineteen. But still, I’m not a kid. I’m a grown woman. I can do what I want and that includes drinking or not drinking.”

She’s definitely all woman. It’s a fact I noticed earlier when she bent over to yank on those skin-tight leggings over her creamy thighs. A damn tragedy she hid them.

“What are you doing here?” I ask to interrupt my dirty thoughts of dragging her back to my big bed and peeling those leggings from her body with my teeth.

She freezes.

Everly

“I’m on vacation,”I tell the gruff mountain man, lifting my chin. I don’t add more details. While I feel safe around him, the truth is I keep a low profile. I’m proud of what my dad does. But people judge me for his politics, or they assume I’m a stuck-up princess who’s never had to live in the real world.

“By yourself?” He challenges, those blue eyes lighting up. The way he talks to me feels more like an interrogation at times. But for some reason, I find it kind of fun. I like bantering with him.

“Are you ever going to tell me your name?” I ask. It’s a technique I’ve learned from my uncle. He says when you don’t want to answer a question, present a new one. “And if there are other people here. This is a lot of cabin for just one person. Don’t you get lonely? Then again, look at your library. I don’t think I’d ever feel lonely again in a place like this.”

“You’re lonely, Goldilocks?” He growls as if he doesn’t like the idea at all.

I chew on my poor abused thumbnail. “What do you have to do around here? I mean, besides sitting in the library while you brood and stare at your crackling fireplace.”

That same corner of his mouth lifts up again. He has an almost boyish charm when he tries to smile. I kind of like it. “You forgot the drinking brandy part.”

I flop down in the chair next to him, finally feeling a little more comfortable. “I’m Everly, by the way.”

“Everly,” he rolls my name across his tongue like he’s savoring the taste. The predatory look on his face has a shiver racing down my spine. I’d like to be prey to a man like him.

“Owen,” the single word comes out strangled.

I repeat his name like he did mine and his gaze snaps to mine. His nostrils flare and he abruptly stands. He smacks his snifter on the side table between us and stalks from the room.

I follow after him, not sure what else to do in this big cabin by myself. It’s not as if I planned this little impromptu vacation.Besides, now that I’ve had the mountain man’s company, I like it. “Where are you going? I thought we were having a moment. You even looked like you wanted to smile. You should smile more. Owen, I bet you have a beautiful—”

He whirls around and I’m following so closely that I bump into him. He grabs my upper arms to steady me then immediately drops his hands as if the touch branded him the same way it did me.

“Don’t say my name,” the words come out as a menacing growl.

The fierceness in his tone is surprising but I don’t back down. I put a hand on my hip. “Why the hell not? It’s yours, isn’t it? Why are you so weird about everything? I haven’t done anything to deserve your hate.”

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