Page 5 of Claimed By the Mountain Man

“Yes,” I said brightly. “Though I had to guess at the proportions since your coffee maker, well, is not a coffee maker.”

He frowned. “I like it—”

“—black as your scowl?”

“I do not scowl.” His lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but I’d take it.

“No, and bears don’t like honey. Look,” I said, sliding a mug toward him. “We need to talk about this situation.”

“There is no situation.” He took a sip of coffee and grimaced. Okay, so maybe I’d made it a little strong.

“Your brother signed you up for a mail-order bride app which matched you with me. He messaged me, pretending to be you. That’s definitely a situation.”

“One that’ll be resolved as soon as I can get hold of Ethan.”

“And until then?” I hopped onto one of his kitchen stools, trying not to feel hurt when he took a step back. “I could stay here. Just until we sort things out.”

His jaw tightened. “That won’t change my mind about wanting a mail-order bride.”

“No, but it’ll give me a chance to...” I trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence without sounding desperate.

“To what?”

“To convince you we could be good together.” The words came out before I could stop them. “Or at least to figure out my next move. I need a change of scenery, you know? A chance to decide what I want to do next in life. Can you understand that?”

Something flickered in his eyes. “Yes. More than you know.”

“So you’ll let me stay?”

He was quiet for a long moment, and I held my breath. “Until I can talk to Ethan,” he finally said. “He owes you something for this mess.”

Meaning you don’t, I thought.

I took out the biscuits and placed them on the table. I realized having a conversation with Logan might be more difficult than I imagined. I hoped the food would feed the bear so to speak. I cracked four eggs in the bacon grease, then added another two. The man looked hungry. “Over easy?”

He nodded and took a biscuit from the cookie sheet. He didn’t bother with butter or the jar of jam I’d found in the refrigerator. He took a bite, chewed for a moment, then popped the other half into his mouth.

I almost let the eggs burn watching him.

“About the tours?” I tried to concentrate on the food, but it was difficult. He sat at the table, his broad shoulders encased in flannel and it felt like we’d done this a thousand times before.

“Yeah, I do them.”

“Do you have one coming up?”

“Got a group coming in today.”

“That’s great. Let me come along today. I’m great with people—which, no offense, might not be your strong suit.”

“I don’t have to be good with people. They’re here to learn how not to die.”

“Charming. Is that your marketing slogan?”

A grunt and another almost-smile. I smiled again, feeling like I was making progress.

Two hours later, I was regretting my brilliant idea. Turns out hiking up a mountain wasn’t quite like my occasional walks in the city park. Logan’s clients—a middle-aged couple from Texas—were surprisingly spry. Me? I was dying.

“Need a hand?” Logan’s voice came from behind me as I stared at a fallen log that was definitely too high to step over gracefully.

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