Page 11 of Kissing the Wrong Mountain Man

"I love it," he answers. "But, uh, are you able to? You know, in your condition…" His big hand fumbles awkwardly in the direction of my stomach.

"In my condition?" I quirk a brow, and he winces, like he's only just hearing how ridiculous that sounded.

Ridiculous, but protective, so I'll allow it.

"Sorry. I don't know why I said that," he mutters, scratching the back of his neck.

I smile. "It's fine. Let's go for a hike."

Ten minutes later, we're outside. The scent of pine and fir and damp earth fills the crisp air, and the gently winding trail is wide enough so we can walk side by side. I stayed in my leggings but changed into a long-sleeved shirt and a lightweight down vest. Brock kept the flannel and jeans, only adding a pair of well-worn boots.

"So, how old are you?" I ask, figuring that's as good a place as any to start gathering some information about my husband.

"Thirty-seven," he answers. "You?"

"Twenty-nine."

Hmm. I wonder whether eight years would qualify as an age gap in one of my future stories. Some readers probably won't think so and might want a bigger age difference.

"And what do you do? For work, I mean."

"At the moment, nothing. I've been living off my savings and fixing up the cabin. My old man's a fireman, and some buddies of mine are wildland firefighters, so I was thinking of maybe doing that. It's an honest way to make a living."

"Thirty days from now, you'll never have to worry about making an honest living ever again."

He blows out a breath. "Yeah, I know."

The hairs on my forearms tingle. Okay, there's a story there, too. "You know, for a guy who's about to inherit fifty mil, you don't seem over the moon about it."

"It's…complicated." He leaves it at that, and when we walk in silence for a good few minutes, I assume that's the end of the conversation. Until he starts talking again. "My grandfather wasn't a good man. He didn't think my father was good enough to marry his daughter, so when Ma went ahead and married him anyway, he cut her out of his life. I've never even met him. When he died and left all his money to me and my brothers, and nothing to her, his only child, it threw us all for a loop." The muscle in his jaw ticks. "I'm torn, because while the money is great, the man caused Ma decades of pain and heartache which no amount of money in the world makes up for."

"That is tough." I mull it over. "But you can spend the money however you please, right? You can buy your mom whatever she wants."

The tension in his jaw eases, and he smiles a big, heartfelt smile. "My brothers already have, and I plan to as well. I want Ma to have anything her heart desires."

"Sounds like you have a great family."

"I do. I couldn't have asked for a better Mom, Pa is my hero, and my brothers are so-so." He's still smiling, so I take it he's kidding.

"Do you mind if I ask—what's your family's heritage?"

"Italian on my dad’s side." His smile turns wistful. "I'm grateful they've given me the time and space I've needed to be on my own, but I miss them a lot."

"Do they know about…us?"

He nods. "They do."

"And what do they think?"

"That I'm doing the right thing." He takes a breath and changes the topic. "What about your family?"

"I'm lucky in that regard, too. We're all super close." I fill him in on being a twin and my two younger sisters. "Allie works in Hollywood as a personal trainer to some big-time celebs, and Beth, the youngest, is a snarky bookworm, who lives in Comfort Bay."

"Did they all think you'd lost your mind when you told them what we're doing?"

"Every single one of them," I reply so fast it makes him chuckle.

"And yet you did it anyway?"

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