Page 3 of Connecting with the Mountain Man

Hell.

The kitchen’s worse—smells like someone took a blow torch to a tray of pastries. Eden crouches by the sink, yanking the cabinet doors open.

Water’s pooled across the floorboards.

“See?” She stabs a finger at it. “Fix it.”

I grunt, grabbing a wrench from the toolbox I keep in the back office. I crouch under the sink, my shoulder brushing her knee.

She shifts, her leg pressing against my ribs, and I have to grit my teeth to stay focused on the damn pipe.

“Could’ve avoided this if you’d called sooner,” I say, tightening a bolt.

“I called as soon as I noticed it.”

“Sure,” I murmur. “But it’s been leaking for a while.”

She huffs. “Maybe focus on fixing it instead of lecturing me.”

I twist the wrench one last time, shutting off the water.

“There. It’s temporary,” I say, sitting back. “I’ll have to come back. To fix it completely, it needs a new part.”

Eden crosses her arms, mouth twisting. “And you sure it will hold, till you can come back to it? I need to use this faucet.”

I stand slowly, looming over her as she leans against the counter. Her eyes flick to mine, chin tilting defiantly.

“It would hold just fine if someone didn’t try to wash entire loaves of bread down the sink,” I say, crossing my arms.

Her brows shoot up. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” I gesture toward the drain with the wrench. “What exactly were you doing in here, Eden? Baking awhole feast for the town and then shoving the leftovers down the pipes?”

She pushes off the counter, stepping into my space without hesitation. That little fire in her eyes—God, I shouldn’t like it as much as I do.

“I’ll have you know,” she says, pointing a flour-dusted finger at my chest, “that sink was perfectly fine until your crew started messing around in here last week. I bet they knocked something loose.”

I arch a brow, letting her accusation hang for a second. “Oh, sure. Blame the professionals. It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with whatever science experiment you were conducting in that oven this morning.”

Her mouth falls open, a scandalized little gasp slipping out. “I was trying a new cinnamon roll recipe!”

I grin, just to watch her glare sharpen. “Tastes better if you don’t set them on fire.”

Eden practically growls, smacking me lightly with a dish towel she snags off the counter. “I don’t come down to your office and criticize how you… you… I don’t know, staple things!”

I bark out a laugh. “I’d pay to see that.”

Her nostrils flare as she steps even closer, eyes locked on mine. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

I could say something. I could poke the lioness a little more just to see what happens.

But I don’t.

Because now that I’m this close, my gaze can’t help but drift lower—to the curve of her waist, the soft swell of her hipspressed up against the counter. The rise and fall of her chest under that snug, flour-dusted sweater.

Eden Winters is gorgeous. Always has been. But right now, with that spark in her eyes and that flush on her cheeks? Damn near breathtaking.

And dangerous.

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