Page 14 of Kissing the Wrong Mountain Man

She swings her legs up onto the couch, stretches them out, and lays on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

"That doesn't look verybeached whaleto me," I observe.

"Oh, I'm not done yet." She hikes her legs over the back of the couch and drops an arm, letting it dangle toward the floor. "There." She cranes her neck to make sure I'm seeing it. Oh, I'm seeing it all right. My wife would probably disagree with me, but she is an absolute vision. "NowI'm done. Let the whale watching begin."

"You look comfortable," I say. "And that's what I want. For the next thirty days, this is your home, too."

She lowers her legs and perches on her elbows. "Really?"

"Really," I assure her. "We're doing a crazy thing here. I have no idea how these next few weeks will pan out, but if there's anything you need, anything at all, you just tell me. Okay?"

She stays silent for a long moment, her eyes fixed on me. "Okay. Cool. Thanks, Brock."

7

Schapelle

"Wow. I never noticed this track."

"It's pretty hidden," Brock agrees, holding the low branch clear for me to walk through.

"Thanks."

It's our fourth hike, and I've lost count how many times he's done nice things, like holding out a branch, or cooking dinner, or letting me splay out on his couch over the past four days we've lived together. On their own, they might seem like small gestures, but together, it confirms my initial impression of him was correct. He's a good, kind-hearted man.

We've slipped into a comfortable routine. I spend my days working on my next book, Brock potters around the cabin, tackling his next project—installing a pergola on the deck—then he makes us one of his delicious home-cooked meals, and we sit on the couch, talking well into the night.

Well,sitmay be a slightly generous term since I'm lying down in whatever position feels good at the moment—usually involving my feet being elevated to stop my ankles from swelling—and thetalkingis more of a one-way thing since I'm the one doing most of it. But he's a great listener.

We trod along the much narrower trail, Brock leading the way, pushing aside any overhanging shrubs or branches out of my way.

When we were returning from yesterday's hike, he mentioned there was a hot spring half a mile down this way. Because the track is so hidden, hardly anyone knows about it. When he saw my face light up, he suggested we check it out today.

My eyes roam up and down his massive frame. He insisted on carrying my backpack, and I watch as it bounces against his solid back.

Solid.

That's actually a really good word to describe him, because Brock isn't just solid in all the right places physically—chest, arms, legs—he's also a solid guy. A bit quieter than I expected, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. He's considerate and measured and does something few of my exes have done—he thinks before he speaks. Never realized what an attractive, and highly underrated, trait that is.

A few minutes later, I'm holding Brock's hand, lowering myself into the hot spring, thankful I drove back home to grab my swimsuit. He grips me tightly until I find a natural ledge and sit down. "This is heavenly," I say, the warm water radiating throughout my body. "You coming in?"

"Of course."

He's been so focused on me that he's only taken the backpack off. I stretch my neck so that I'm not outright staring at the guy, but the second he unbuttons his red flannel shirt, my gaze gets pulled to him.

I guess you could say the guys I've dated have beenregular-body guys. I'm a face girl, and as long as I found something I liked—his eyes, smile, or hair—I was fine with that.

But Brock Palladino is not aregular-body guy.

Brock Palladino is the type of guy who looks like he belongs on the cover ofMen's Health Magazine, mountain-man edition. My eyes trace the jagged, hard lines of his broad shoulders, slightly fuzzy barrel chest, and massive arms. He gets in and submerges his entirenot-regular-guybody before finding a spot close to me.

I ignore the heat pulsing through me and close my eyes, wanting to savor the calm of this moment. Despite working a ton and sharing a cabin with Brock, I've felt myself slowing down these past few days. Like I can finally breathe again.

"This is just what I needed," I murmur, my eyes staying shut as the warm water works its magic, soothing my muscles and releasing some of the tension I've been holding onto these past few months.

"Glad you like it."

I breathe in the crisp mountain air, my ears tuning in to the sounds around me—the gentle bubbling of the spring, sparrows and jays chirping overhead, leaves rustling as a gentle breeze blows through the trees, the trickle of a stream off in the distance.

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