Page 4 of Forbidden Mountain Man

Darby shifted that wide-eyed gaze back to my face. “All the rooms are booked solid.”

“I have a comfortable couch,” I said.

What was I doing? Never in a million years would I have offered my home to anyone I’d just met—or anyone at all unless they were really down on their luck and needed my help. But I didn’t let anyone close enough for that to happen.

Offering my couch to this woman seemed natural, though. In fact, I’d probably give her my bed and I’d sleep on the couch if it didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. In an ideal world, I’d be in that bed with her.

“I couldn’t impose,” she said. “I’m sure my boss will have to set something up. There’s a family over there who just came to ski for the day. They didn’t expect to get stuck. And some of these locals will probably end up trapped here too.”

I shook my head. “We’re used to it. Not a single one of these guys would be here if we thought we couldn’t get home.”

That included me. As much as I wanted to spend time around this beautiful brunette who was sliding her way into my ice-coldheart, I would not risk getting stuck in any business owned by greedy guys like Alex Jewell and Brandon Brighton.

“I think you’re needed at the thingamabob over there,” I said, nodding toward the podium visible just over her shoulder.

Darby was a hostess here. She told me that on the drive over. Her name and her job were all I knew about her, even after two conversations. Well, that and the fact that she named her car after a deceased celebrity.

She gasped and turned to see the small group that had formed near the hostess stand. Then she spun back to me briefly and said, “I may take you up on your offer. Don’t go anywhere.”

I didn’t know what time she got off work, but I’d wait. I’d wait until the end of time if it meant getting a few more minutes with this woman.

4

DARBY

Imust have lost my mind. I was belted into the passenger seat of a four-wheel-drive truck with a man I’d just met.

I knew nothing about Lucas. He could be a serial killer. But my instincts told me I could trust him with my life.

And that was exactly what I was putting in his hands as we headed up the part of the snow-covered road I’d never traveled before. I’d lived in Seduction Summit for only six months, and I’d spent all but the past two weeks of that working at the library. They told me just before Christmas they were eliminating my part-time job, but at the same time, I saw an online post about the ski lodge filling a bunch of positions, including the one I held now.

So here I was, venturing even farther up into the mountains. There was ice under the snow, I was pretty sure, but Lucas didn’t even seem to be breaking a sweat. He shifted down and up as needed and took it slow, staring out the window intently.

I, meanwhile, sat silently—for the first time in years not feeling the need to fill silence with words. He needed to concentrate, but I was pretty sure he’d be just as quiet if we weredriving on dry roads. This was one guy who’d have to be brought out of his shell…and I was up for the challenge.

Finally, after what seemed like days of driving, Lucas flipped on his turn signal. I expected us to turn off on a side road, but in the short time we’d been heading up this mountain, I hadn’t seen a single side road. Just the occasional cabin.

“Home sweet home,” Lucas said as he pulled into a gravel driveway.

I couldn’t speak. I was too busy gaping at the two-story log cabin with the light streaming through the front window.

“I built this with my own two hands,” he said. “Didn’t even have help. A couple of locals wanted me to build cabins for them or improve the ones they already owned, but I only do that with the stipulation that they’ll help with the construction. Now I have a couple of guys working for me, and I hope to expand even more.”

That meant he was a builder. Something about that surprised me.

Not because he didn’t seem like a hard worker—he definitely did. I’d just assumed the guys who lived up here in the mountains and came down at Happy Hour were hermits who lived off the land. But I’d never noticed this particular mountain man at Glacier Bar and Grill before, so maybe I’d unfairly stereotyped him.

“I go in and out through the garage,” Lucas said as he stopped in front of a large garage door and pressed a button on a remote clipped to his visor. “It’s just easier that way.”

“Plus, it keeps snow off your truck.”

He gave a nod as he pulled into the garage. But he didn’t say anything else. He just pushed open his door and climbed out. I looked around, as though the answer to what I was supposed to do next would be right in front of me, then shrugged and pushed open my door.

“Whoa,” I whispered to myself as I headed toward the door Lucas was now holding open for me. “Nice garage.”

“Thanks.”

Okay, so maybe my comment wasn’t so much to myself. I’d never seen a garage this clean. The concrete floor showed not a speck of dirt. I would swear the tiny kitchen in my townhouse near downtown was dirtier than this right now.

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