Page 3 of Devotion By the Mountain Man

“About three months, but I just started working here last week. Needed some time to fix up my cabin and get settled in.”

Rosie nods. “I know the feeling. I wish I had the time to fix up my place.”

“How long have you lived here?” I ask her, putting the “time to fix up my place” comment in my back pocket—I’ll help her in a heartbeat.

“Just finishing up my first year here. I work at the school—I think Ava mentioned that. I’m actually the head of the history department, which dear old Steve has a problem with. Which is why he was being such an extraordinary ass earlier.”

“Some men are too insecure to see women in positions of power. I used to see it all the time in the Navy,” I say, reaching out to push another loose curl behind her ear. Her cheeks heat at the gesture, and it may be too soon to do something so intimate, but I can’t help myself. I’m drawn to her in a way I can’t explain.

“How long did you serve for?” she asks, crossing her legs. I can’t help but notice as her white and blue pinstripe skirt inchesup her thigh and it leaves me wondering what she has on underneath it.

“Fifteen years,” I say, wondering if she’ll get scared off by our age difference. I can tell she’s quite a bit younger than me, but that doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I just want her.

“Oh… wow. So that makes you…” she trails off, clearly not wanting to ask my age.

“Thirty-four,” I say, not breaking eye contact. I want her to know everything about me.

She laughs slightly. “I just turned twenty-five,” she says softly, like it’s something to be embarrassed about.

“Doesn’t bother me a bit, Rosie,” I say, lifting her chin so her beautiful blue eyes meet mine. “I want to know everything about you.”

So she tells me. She tells me about studying history and finishing up her master’s program, about all the teaching jobs she was offered last year and how she decided on Whiskey Mountain High. She tells me about how hard it’s been to be a department head when she’s younger than all of her coworkers, and how hard settling in here has been.

After she finishes, she looks at me with something like embarrassment before whispering, “I want to know everything about you too.”

And so I tell her. I tell her how I joined the Navy at nineteen after being unsatisfied with my college experience and how I rose the ranks to be a commanding officer and all the days, and months,and years I spent out at sea. I choke up a little recounting the losses I saw and the friends that left along the way.

She places a hand on my arm when I tell her about how I knew it was time to get out, I skim over the details before telling her about moving to Whiskey Mountain at Ava’s recommendation, about meeting the guys at the veterans group and starting work here, just for something to keep busy.

“Do you like bartending?” she asks when I drop off, and I’m glad she could tell I’d opened up enough for the moment and asked something simple.

“I do. I like talking to people. You never know who you’re going to meet,” I reply, looking at her with a warm smile. She grins back.

“You guys need anything?” Ava asks from behind the bar.

“Have dinner with me?” I ask Rosie.

“Sure,” she says easily and I can’t get over how natural this feels. Howeasyit is to be around her, despite only knowing each other for about an hour.

We look over the menu that I’ve already got memorized and order a few plates to share and a refill on our drinks. By the time we’ve devoured our nachos and chicken wings, the sky has darkened and I know the night is coming to an end, but I have no desire to separate from Rosie.

“Want to go for a drive?” I ask her, holding my breath while I wait for her response. I honestly think my entire wellbeing depends on her answer.

“I’d love to,” she says easily.

I throw some bills on the bar, knowing Ava didn’t charge me for anything, but not wanting to be a freeloader. I stand and grab Rosie’s hand, taking notice of how easily her soft, delicate palm fits perfectly within my own rough, calloused one.

She was made for me.

Chapter Three

Rosie

Wade leads me out of the brewery, his perfectly rough hand encapsulating mine. I love how he’s taken control of the evening, how much he has shared with me, how much I’ve shared with him. It feels like I’ve known him forever, despite just meeting this evening.

He leads me to the back parking lot and I’m surprised when he opens the door to a shiny silver convertible. It both doesn’t fit him at all and makes perfect sense—he’s nothing but a combination of surprises to me. Tough and soft. Kind and uncrossable. I love it.

He rounds the front of the car and gets in, grabbing my hand and intertwining our fingers before shifting the car and driving towards the mountain-side road. It’s a warm night and with the top of the car down, I look up and see the stars. A slow smile spreads on my face as I take in this beautiful night that has taken such an unexpected turn.

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