Page 7 of Rugged Mountain Man

I didn’t want to give that up, but I’d definitely give it up for dessert. This guy was speaking my language.

4

LIAM

“Home sweet home,” I said.

I looked around with fresh eyes as I led the way into my tiny cabin. It looked small to me all of a sudden. The kitchen and living room were crammed together and there was no dining room. I had a tiny table where I rarely ate a meal. Most of the time, I sat on the couch and shoveled food into my gullet while watching TV.

“This is so cozy,” she said. “Exactly where I’d want to be on a snowy night.”

Cozy. That was a good word for it. Small and cozy were pretty much the same thing, weren’t they?

Willow closed the door behind her and stepped inside, pulling my coat off her shoulders as she did. She’d been coatless, so I’d given her mine. She’d pulled the hood up over her head and rushed through the lobby, telling me she needed to go incognito. Even though there was nobody around, someone could have come around the corner at any second, according to Willow.

“Thanks for letting me borrow this,” she said, holding it out to me.

I stepped toward her, surprised how eager I was to close the space between us. I didn’t want any space between us. In fact, I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to pull her into my arms. It had been on my mind the whole time we sat facing each other on that weight bench.

I was almost disappointed when the coat transferred from her hand to mine without us touching. But I took it over to the closet and hung it, as I promised myself I’d do every time I came home. Usually, it ended up tossed over the back of the couch, where I’d retrieve it the next morning on my way out.

“Have a seat,” I said. “I’ll see what I can scrounge up for dessert.”

“I’ll help.”

I was already heading toward the kitchen when I heard her words. I started to turn her down, but she was a baker. How could I think I’d make a dessert that would impress her? The best I could do was ice cream with chocolate syrup on it. That was my dessert of choice.

“I don’t have much to work with here,” I said. “I was just going to make some ice cream. Not the homemade kind either.”

“Do you have flour and sugar?”

“Yeah,” I said. “My sister stocked my cabinets with a bunch of stuff I said I’d never use when I first moved in. It’s been eight months, and I haven’t touched any of it.”

She’d breezed around me and into the kitchen, and now she stood in front of the cabinets, holding one of them open. Finally, she started pulling things out.

“Do you have coffee mugs?” she asked.

I frowned and headed over to the cabinet above my one-cup coffeemaker. “I don’t have decaf,” I said, just in case she was one of those types who didn’t drink coffee close to bedtime.

“It’s not for coffee,” she said. “This will be something that can go with your coffee.”

I handed her two mugs and made coffee for myself. Then I headed over to the fireplace to get the fire started. I felt the need to get out of her way while she worked her magic. When I called out an offer to help and she turned me down, I settled onto the sofa, facing the fire, and enjoyed the view.

This really was a kick-ass cabin. I might have originally planned to live here alone the rest of my life, but I couldn’t beat the view through the giant windows on either side of the fireplace.

My previous thought had me lowering my mug and staring at the fire with a frown. Had I just used past tense when it came to living here alone? Nothing had changed, had it?

As if in answer, Willow pulled open the microwave. I heard her sliding something inside, followed by the door closing and the beeps that indicated she was starting it up.

I could definitely get used to this—a woman to sit next to me as I enjoyed the fire and a nice cup of coffee. Maybe even a kid or two, crawling around on the rug in front of us.

No, that was definitely out of the question. This cabin wasn’t big enough. I’d have to move. Besides, I didn’t want kids, did I?

Did I?

Dammit, this woman had me all twisted in knots, and I wasn’t sure when that had happened. Maybe the first second I saw her being hit on by a scrawny bartender who needed to keep his dick in his pants.

“Do you have an ice cream scoop?” she called over.

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