Page 6 of How to Wed a Mountain Man

“Grizz!” They throw their arms around the dog as he bounds toward them. A man and woman follow at a more relaxed pace, relief clear on their faces.

“Thank you so much for bringing him back.” The woman smiles warmly. “I’m Courtney, and this is my husband Ryder.” Her eyes drift to Hawk, and she gives a small nod of recognition.

“I’m Paige.” I smile at both Courtney and Ryder. “We’re glad we could help get Grizzly home safe.”

“Sorry for the trouble,” says Ryder. “Won’t happen again.”

Courtney’s gaze flicks between Hawk and me, curiosity evident in her expression, but she doesn’t ask the obvious question. “I don’t know how long you’re here on the mountain, Paige, but you should come by for coffee sometime.”

“That would be lovely,” I say, grateful for the invitation.

We make our goodbyes quickly after that. Back in the truck, I watch the cabin disappear behind the trees. “They seem really nice. Just like that other neighbor of yours I met—Jordana, right?”

“Mm.” Hawk keeps his eyes on the narrow road.

“All the people I’ve met up here have been so friendly.” I turn toward him in my seat. “Would you ever consider spending time with them?”

“No.” His knuckles whiten on the steering wheel.

“Not even for coffee? They’re your neighbors.” I try for a lighter tone. “I’m not suggesting that you host a formal dinner party or anything.”

“I don’t need that.” His voice is firm but not unkind. After a moment, he adds, “But you’re welcome to be as friendly with them as you like.”

I nod, studying his profile. The man beside me chose to live alone on a mountain, carving beauty from wood in perfect solitude. Then he chose me. Do I accept him exactly as he is, or try to draw him out of his shell? The question settles heavy in my stomach.

The truck climbs higher, wheels crunching over fallen pine needles. I try to picture my life stretching out ahead of me—years of quiet days, no neighborhood barbecues, no children’slaughter echoing through the trees. Just me and Hawk and this vast silence around us. Maybe it would be okay, maybe I’d grow to love the solitude. But I’m just not sure.

I look over at Hawk again, taking in the strong lines of his face, the tension in his jaw. “Are you happy?”

Hawk takes a few beats to answer. “I’m happy with my work. With my life here.” But there’s something in his voice that sounds like he’s trying to convince us both.

“But you wanted more.” I keep my voice soft. “You wanted someone to share it with.”

The silence stretches so long I think he won’t answer. Then he says, “Yeah. It gets painfully lonely up here.” The words sound like they’re being pulled from somewhere deep inside him. “Especially at night. The quiet…it gets too heavy sometimes.”

My chest aches at the raw honesty in his voice. “I know what that’s like. I’ve felt a lot of loneliness even when there are people around.”

Hawk looks over at me, his eyebrows raised a little. Our eyes meet, and for the first time since I arrived, it feels like we’re actually seeing each other.

When we reach the cabin, I stand in the yard, taking in the towering trees, the worn path to the workshop, the man who could soon be my husband. Heat rises in my cheeks as I imagine him crossing this yard toward me, not to retreat to his workshop but to pull me into his arms. In my mind, his hands cup my face, thick fingers gentle against my skin. His lips find mine, and that carefully maintained distance between us disappears. I imagine him carrying me across the threshold of our bedroom, layingme down on sheets that smell like both of us, his body covering mine…

My face burns. Hawk is looking at me now, shifting his weight between me and his workshop.

“I should get back to work,” he says.

“Of course.” I try to keep the disappointment from my voice. It’s hard not to want everything at once—the intimacy, the connection, the comfort of really knowing each other. But relationships take time to build, especially with someone as reserved as Hawk.

I’m halfway to the cabin when he calls out. “Paige?”

I turn back. The way Hawk rubs the back of his neck, uncertain but trying—it makes my heart lift.

“Would you…” He clears his throat. “Do you want to see what I’m working on?”

5

HAWK

I’ve never let anyone in my workshop before.

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