Page 6 of Chiseled Mountain Man

SEAN

Ishouldn’t be here.

I had work to do, and this was borderline stalking behavior. But as I stood, clearing brush away with the tent clearly in view, I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Bronte could come out of that tent at any moment, and I just wanted to see her again.

Yes, stalker behavior.

Suddenly the flap moved and people began filing out—all women, most wearing ponytails similar to the one Bronte had that morning. But she was blonde. She’d stand out.

A redhead exited, then a group of brunettes mixed with a blonde. But finally, the blonde I’d been searching for emerged. She was behind a group of three women who looked like they were having the time of their lives, but she definitely did not look like she was having the time of her life.

She was coming to see me. I should get back to my cabin. I had plenty of time, though. She’d go back to her room and change into her running gear.

Still, I couldn’t seem to make myself move. I just stood there, feet firmly planted on the ground, watching as the mostbeautiful woman I’d ever seen walked with her head down behind three women who were pretty much jumping for joy.

Someone came out behind Bronte, but I barely noticed. I only had eyes for her. She was the only woman who’d ever made my heart do jumping jacks in my chest. Made me feel alive. Made me feel like there was a purpose to my life.

Yes, I was aware I sounded like a nut job, and considering that I’d spent the last four years of my life living up here in the middle of nowhere, I wouldn’t be surprised if Bronte decided I was just that. If, that was, she found out I was standing here, which she wouldn’t because I was going to back up and head up the path right now.

I’d taken only one step back when suddenly, Bronte lifted her head and looked in the direction of the trail. In the direction of exactly where I was standing. She couldn’t see me from there, could she? It was a good five hundred feet away. If she hadn’t met me, she’d probably just say some dude was standing here. Heck, she might even mistake me for a bear, as big as I was.

But she’d met me. I was wearing the exact vest and flannel shirt she’d seen me in that morning, and she wasn’t looking away.

I froze, not sure what to do next. I could turn and go hide in my cabin and spend the rest of my life kicking myself for having blown it before it even started. But that wasn’t like me at all. I might have isolated myself from people, but I was not a guy who gave up when I saw something I wanted. I just had to figure out a way to come back from this.

I expected her to quickly turn her attention back to the line of women making a beeline for the lodge. Instead, she took a sharp right turn and began walking at a fast pace, arms still crossed over her chest, straight toward me.

Holy hell, what did I do now? Stand here? Start in her direction? No, standing here was definitely the best of the twooptions. She could very well be marching over here to ask me what the heck I was doing standing here, watching her. Was I stalking her? Was I crazy? Should she take out a restraining order against me?

None of the above. If she didn’t want me in her life, I’d walk away. But first, I’d try to convince her that I was not, in fact, a nut job, despite the way it looked.

“I lost,” she called out when she was a good hundred feet or so from me. “It’s pretty much over.”

I frowned at her. It? Her career or the competition? Please let it be the latter.

She shook her head. “I just don’t get it. My pie was really good, and the women who won were my friends, so I can’t even be mad at them. But now we’re all supposed to sit and watch tomorrow while they duke it out for first place.”

“Bake it out, you mean?” I asked, going for some poorly timed humor.

That was me. Always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. It was worse than before because now I was out of practice. But part of the reason I’d chosen to hide out up here was that I didn’t have to worry about screwing up interactions with other humans. If I didn’t talk to anyone, nobody could judge me. Or be mad at me. Or even know what I was doing or saying, day in and day out.

Bronte smiled, stopping a couple dozen feet in front of me. “Bake it out.”

Her arms were still crossed over her chest, and I couldn’t help but notice she was way underdressed for these conditions. I shrugged out of my jacket and held it out to her.

“Here,” I said. “I know it doesn’t look like it’ll help much, but it will.”

She slid on the jacket and zipped it up, then looked up at me. It was huge on her, but I liked seeing her wearing it. It made me feel like I was taking care of her.

“You want to take a walk back to my shop?” I asked.

That sounded pretty creepy. If I didn’t already know she wanted to come back, I wouldn’t have asked the question, though.

“You know what?” She looked over her shoulder at the tent that now appeared abandoned. All her fellow contestants were gone from what I could see. “Yes. I don’t care about the dinner. I don’t care about any of that. Fuck all of them.”

My eyebrows arched. I hadn’t expected that. She didn’t sound angry either. Mostly, she sounded like she was ready to move forward.

“That makes it seem like I’m a bad sport, doesn’t it?” She winced. “It’s just that…” She chewed her lip, then looked around. “Let’s walk.”

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