Page 21 of Connecting with the Mountain Man

The second he saidSugarDust, I swear my heart stopped. Like, full-on ground to a halt in my chest.

And then it kicked back to life with vengeance and rage.

How long had he known? Since the first email? The second? Was he laughing behind my back while I poured my heart out toRuggedRoots, not even realizing I was pouring it out tohim?

God.

I flop down on the couch, arms thrown over my head, glaring up at the ceiling like it holds answers.

It doesn’t.

I can still feel the ghost of his hands on me, that rough, calloused grip that I felt all the way down to my toes. The heat ofhis mouth as he kissed me, the way he sucked on my nipple right through my shirt—

I squeeze my legs together and groan.

This is ridiculous. I should be furious, not… whatever this is. I sit up, planting my elbows on my knees, tugging my fingers through my hair. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending Silas Matthews isn’t the biggest distraction of my life, and I sure as hell can’t keep working in the same building as him. I can barely make it through a day as it is. Now that I know he’sRuggedRoots?

Forget it.

I’ll have to close the bakery. Move towns, maybe even states. Maybe take up knitting or something in a sleepy little village where the only men around are old enough to remember the Great Depression.

I mean, it’s drastic, but at this point, it feels like my only option. The thought makes my chest ache. I love that bakery. I’ve put everything into it. But the idea of seeing him every day… knowing what I know now? I press my face into my hands. I can’t.

A knock rattles the front door and I freeze.

I already know who it is. I can feel it—feelhim—like the air thickens when he’s near. For a second, I think about pretending I’m not home. But I don’t get the chance.

“Eden.” His voice is rough, a little muffled by the door, but I hear it clear as day. “I know you’re in there.”

I sit there, staring at the door like it might sprout legs and walk away. Nope. Still there. He knocks again, a little louder this time.

“Eden. Come on.”

I blow out a breath, rising to my feet and stomping toward the door like I’m heading to battle. I yank open the door and glare.

Silas stands on my front step, all broad shoulders and heavy boots, looking like sin incarnate beneath the porch light. His flannel is wrinkled, his hair mussed, and there’s a shadow along his jaw like he’s been running his hand over it all night.

The worst part? I want him. Even now. Even knowing what I know.

“What do you want, Silas?” I keep my voice cool, leaning one shoulder against the frame as I grip the door behind me. His eyes drag over me, something flickering deep and unreadable.

I pretend not to notice.

“I wanted to apologize.”

I fold my arms, arching a brow. “For what? Kissing me even though you’ve been lying to me? Kissing me even though you knew who I was for God knows how long but keeping it to yourself? You’re an asshole.”

His jaw tightens. I know I’m being unfair, but I’m too worked up to care.

“I didn’t know right away,” he says, his voice low, careful. “I figured it out when you sent that picture.”

“The scones.”

He nods, shifting his weight, and I chew the inside of my cheek to stop myself from filling the silence. But the words bubble up anyway.

“So, what? You thought it was funny?”

He steps closer, bracing one hand on the frame just beside my head, crowding me without laying a finger on me. His heat soaks into my skin.

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