Page 11 of Connecting with the Mountain Man

He flinches. Just barely.

But I feel it. The way his muscles twitch beneath my palm, like I shocked him.

My heart flips.

Oh.

Oh.

I linger for a second longer, letting my fingers trail over his skin, and something low and deep hums inside me. My panties are practically disintegrating.

Silas’s jaw tightens, his eyes locked on the pipe like it personally offended him.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, voice rough enough to sand wood.

I don’t let go. I can’t. Not yet.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

His breath hitches—so quick I almost miss it. Finally, he sits back on his haunches, prying my hand off his arm like it burns.I don’t know if I want to scream or laugh. Instead, I stay perfectly still, biting the inside of my cheek so hard I swear I taste blood.

“If you must know, I had a match,” he says suddenly, dragging a hand through his hair.

I blink. A match. Does he mean what I think he means? My stomach drops right out of my body.

“Oh.”

I hate how small that sounds. I hate the way it burns all the way down to my toes.

On the outside, I’m still as a statue. On the inside? My uterus is straight-up throwing things around like a toddler in a tantrum.

Who the hell is this woman?

I swallow the lump in my throat and force out the words. “You mean like on one of those mail order dating sites?”

Silas grunts, eyes fixed somewhere on the floor. I take his grunt as a yes.

“So, shouldn’t you be happy or something?”

“It didn’t work out,” he says, and the relief that crashes through me almost knocks me flat.

I shouldnotfeel this happy that it didn’t work out for him.

But I do.

Because the thought of Silas wanting someone else—of him touching someone else with those hands—makes me want to burn this whole cafe down.

“I’m sorry,” I manage, even though I’m not. Not even a little bit.

He shrugs, but it’s forced.

“Probably for the best,” he mutters.

I reach for him again—an instinct I can’t fight—and my hand lands just above his wrist. His pulse thrums against my fingertips, and this time… he doesn’t flinch.

“You’re not exactly easy to match,” I tease, hoping he can’t hear the thudding in my chest. “Gruff mountain man with an attitude every day of the week? Takes a special kind of woman to handle that.”

His mouth twitches like he wants to smile, but it doesn’t quite happen.

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