Page 21 of My Mountain Man Valentine

“Good.” He reached over to start the engine, pulling out onto the street. “I’ve dealt with my share of weird folks on the trails, but this is different.”

My stomach twisted. “I hate feeling like a pawn in someone’s twisted game.”

He didn’t have a response for that. Instead, he drove us the short distance to Skyline. Lights glowed from within, and even from the lot, I could hear the upbeat music and chatter of a crowd. Nerves coiled in my gut—was the sender of that text already inside, waiting to cause a scene?

Ryder parked and climbed out, quickly circling to open my door. The gesture was so at odds with the turmoil in my head that I mustered a shaky smile. He looped an arm around my waist, and I leaned into his solid warmth, letting the faint smell of pine and woodsmoke settle my heart.

“Ready?” he asked quietly.

“As I’ll ever be,” I said.

We stepped into Skyline’s lively din. Balloons and garlands were everywhere. A local band played in the corner, strumming cheerful chords that offset the tension inside me. Levi spotted us and waved us over to the bar, his expression tense but relieved we’d shown up together.

“Everything okay?” he muttered once we were in earshot.

Ryder nodded grimly. “Mostly. Tessa got a text. We’re sticking together.”

Levi’s jaw tightened. “You let me know if anything happens. I’ll be right here.”

With that, he turned to serve a flock of customers ordering Valentine-themed cocktails.

A swirl of movement at the entrance caught my eye. Caroline hurried in, shrugging off her coat, likely fresh from themiddle-school dance. She spotted us and beelined over, carrying that wide-eyed concern teachers perfected when dealing with chaos.

“You all right?” she asked, hugging me tight. “Heard some weird rumors—figured I’d see if you needed backup.”

I tried for a grateful smile. “I’m okay for now. Just…rattled.”

She studied my face, then glanced at Ryder. “Let me know if anything happens. I’ll be around. Don’t let me cramp your couple’s vibe.” She flashed a quick grin but worry lingered in her eyes.

“Thanks,” I managed. “Stay close.”

Caroline nodded and drifted off to chat with a group of teachers near the dartboard, but she kept casting glances our way as if ready to intervene if trouble stirred.

Ryder guided me toward a booth. “Here,” he said, voice pitched low. “We’ll have a good view of the door.”

Sitting down, I braced myself for whatever this “tonight” threat might entail. The minutes crawled by, the bar growing louder with laughter and the clink of glasses. Music thrummed against my ears.

Eventually, Levi emerged with two beers, setting them on the table. “On the house,” he said curtly, then leaned closer. “Ryder told me about the text. You see anything suspicious, you let me know.”

“We will,” I promised. My nerves hummed.

For the next hour, nothing out of the ordinary happened. We talked in hushed tones, trying to appear relaxed in front of the Valentine’s revelers. Ryder occasionally squeezed my hand or shifted so our legs brushed—a reminder that we were in thistogether. Despite the tension, a surge of affection warmed my chest.

Then, around nine o’clock, the band finished a set, and the bar fell into a soft lull. My phone buzzed again, lighting up the table with an unknown number. My stomach twisted. Ryder tensed as I lifted it with shaking fingers.

I’m here. Everyone will see the truth about you tonight.

My pulse hammered. “They’re here,” I whispered, holding the screen so Ryder could read it.

His gaze flared with anger. “Stay calm. Let’s see if anyone approaches.”

A cold sweat trickled down the back of my neck. Levi caught sight of our alarmed expressions and signaled a silent question from behind the bar. I gave a slight nod, which must have told him something was up. He stowed a dishcloth and started weaving through the crowd our way.

That’s when a piercing whistle cut through the bar.

Conversation screeched to a halt. My heart lurched as I craned my neck, trying to see who had made the sound. The gathered crowd parted near the stage, revealing a familiar figure in tight jeans and a faux-fur jacket, phone clutched in one manicured hand.

Angelique.

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