Page 10 of Her Mountain Man Recluse

She hums thoughtfully. “There’s something about being out here. It’s so…so big and wild…so beautiful. It really helps put your problems into perspective. They seem smaller, you know? You look at the trees and the rivers and you breathe in that fresh earthy smell, and it just feels like everything is going to be okay.”

“You said it better than I ever could.”

She smiles at me, and I run her words over in my mind. There’s so much I want to know about Lila. She said she lost her job and came to the mountains to get away, but something tells me there’s more to the story. Behind her bright smile and glistening brown eyes, there’s something fragile. I saw a hint of it at breakfast—the look on her face when she tried to give me her sandwich. She looked self-conscious. Unsure of herself.

“It’s none of my business,” I grunt, “but what problems are you trying to put into perspective out here?”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Losing my job, I guess.” She looks at me, biting her lip. “But I don’t want to bother you with all my problems, Ridge. They’re pretty mundane—nothing compared to what you went through.”

I frown, struggling to tear my eyes from her mouth as I say, “We’re not competing, Lila. Just because I got shot twenty years ago doesn’t mean you can’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Well, I guess when you put it like that…” she tapers off with a sigh. “The thing is, losing my job means I have to move back home with my parents in Colorado Springs. We’re not a close family. My dad is a total jerk. He cheats on my mom constantlyand she takes her anger out on me instead of divorcing him like she should have done years ago.”

A twinge of pity squeezes my gut. “How does she take her anger out on you?”

“She says horrible things about me. Anything from my appearance to my life choices. She talks about me like I’m not even in the room.”

My throat tightens, anger rising as I process her words. Her parents sound like fucking assholes, and I hate the thought of her being forced to live with them.

“I’m sorry, Lila,” I tell her. “That’s really shitty. You got any other relatives you could stay with instead?”

“Sadly not.” She sighs. “I thought about asking my best friend, Audrey. She rents an apartment in the city, but I don’t want to be a burden, not when I can’t afford to pay my share.”

I want to tell her she can come stay with me. It’s on the tip of my tongue to offer her a room in my cabin when it’s fixed. But I’d probably creep her out by asking. Anyway, I live on a damn mountain, hours from the city. A pretty young thing like Lila won’t want to be stuck out here with an old grump like me.

“Anyway,” Lila continues with a sigh, “it just felt like a lot of crappy things happened at once: my job, my apartment, the video. It wasn’t a great start to the year, but I guess it can only get better, right?”

“Video?”

She goes silent, frowning like she’s mad at herself. “I don’t know why I mentioned that. It was nothing, just this stupid thing on social media.”

I want to hear more about the video, but she seems reluctant to talk about it, so we walk in silence, listening to the twittering birds and the rustling trees. My arm is aching, the cold making my shoulder tense up painfully. But it’s worth it to be out here with Lila.

Eventually, we reach a narrow creek. It blocks our path, stretching out in either direction, the icy top layer starting to melt away.

“I guess we’ll have to turn back,” Lila says.

“You want to?”

She shakes her head. “No, but I don’t think I can jump that.”

“I can. I’ll carry you over.”

Lila’s eyes widen. “Carry me?”

“Sure.”

“I’m too heavy,” she says, her cheeks pinkening.

“Of course you’re not.” I frown at her, then before she can protest, I lift her into my arms and take a giant step over the creek. She feels so warm and soft against me, and my cock twitches in my boxers, the closeness filling me with longing. I want to hold her tighter, without these coats and sweaters between us—just me and Lila. But I force myself to set her down on the other side, feeling cold without her.

“Thanks,” she says, her voice a little breathless.

“No problem. You’re not heavy at all.”

She lets out a noise between a laugh and a sigh. “Well, it’s easy for you to say. You could probably bench-press an elephant if you tried.”

“I’m serious, Lila.” I stop walking and look at her, crossing my arms. “Remember what I said back at the cabin?”

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