Page 28 of Forever with the Mountain Man

“Don’t ever say that about yourself again, ma luciole,” I croon, pulling her closer and kissing her tender lips covered in salt from her warm tears.

“But it’s true. I’m barely scraping by. You could do so much better than me.”

“And I’m a shepherd who lives in the middle of nowhere. You could do much better than me in many people’s opinions. But we are past all that because we have already decided to be together. So, it’s a matter of figuring out how to make that happen in a way that suits our lives and dreams.”

“But is it even possible?” she asks, sniffling.

“This is where I need your help, Firefly. Because you are the brains in this relationship. As they say in the old country, ‘Non dago borondatea, bide bat badago.’”

“That sounds very wise. What does it mean?”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

Felicity chuckles. “You know we say the same thing in English.”

“I thought it fit the moment better to make it sound exotic.”

She swats playfully at my arm, shaking her hand and exclaiming. “Ow!”

“My muscles are too hard for you?”

“Yes?”

“Then, you should love me instead of hit me.”

“I can do that,” she says softly.

“Read me your articles—every one of the dating ones. I want to know how I fit into the picture. Maybe there’s still a way we can work this all out.”

“Okay.” She sighs, pulling out her cell phone. “All of them?”

“Every single word.”

I listen intently, staring into the sinewy, fluttering flames of the fire, grimacing and gritting my teeth when she describes a date at a nightclub with a guy who sends her a dick pic. Internally, I imagine hunting the man down and killing him with my bare hands for such a dishonor. Even though it happened many months before she and I started talking on Mountain Mates. But then, she reads the part about shrinkage and feeling underwhelmed, and I realize my woman is perfectly capable of slaying her own dragons. The pen is mightier than the sword, after all. At another point, I put my head in my hand as she describes kissing a man after a wine tasting.

“Fierce, are you alright?”

“Skip over it. I can’t hear anymore.”

“But that was the worst of it,” she clarifies wide-eyed.

“So, you didn’t sleep with him?”

“No, silly,” she says, kissing me. “You are the only man I’ve ever been with apart from my college boyfriend.”

“An educated man—” I hiss, making my insecurities painfully obvious.

“That doesn’t mean anything. You are an entrepreneur. A very talented one, and you’re going to make me the queen of your sheep’s milk cheese dynasty. Remember?”

I laugh, stroking her soft cheek, bright red from my beard and the nippy night air. “God help me if you put that in my story.”

“Let me finish reading, and then let’s talk about what I could put in your story. If you’re okay with me writing the story at all.”

I nod.

She goes back to reading, and I listen intently, marveling at her storytelling and wittiness. She makes me laugh many times, and I secretly wonder what the hell she sees in me. But I’m tooselfish a man to ever give her up now. And I know I can make her happy—wonderfully, blissfully happy, even if what I offer is a simple life. Felicity’s voice dies away, and she pockets her phone, snuggling against my chest.

I clear my throat, overwhelmed by the blessing this woman is to me. “You are a gifted writer.”

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