Page 8 of Dangerous Mountain Man

She held a gigantic pink tumbler with a handle and a straw sticking out of the top. A stark contrast to the boring, gray tumbler with scrapes and scratches all over it that had been with me no telling how long.

I pulled back the door and held it for her, gesturing for her to exit. “You know, he really should put a storm door on this.”

“He doesn’t like the way they look on log cabins,” she said. “But it has a deadbolt.”

She pulled the door closed, then tapped in a code on the number pad above the doorknob. All the rental cabins around here had those. Mine even had one when I bought it. One of my first chores was taking that thing off.

“I’m not used to being driven around,” I said as I followed her to her car.

Her footsteps slowed a little at my words, then she picked them back up again. That left me rethinking what I’d said. Did I sound like a sexist asshole? Probably. It was ingrained in me that a man opened the door for a woman, took her to dinner, and yes, drove on dates. But this wasn’t a date.

The problem was, my head knew that, but my heart was in “impress her” mode. There wasn’t much I could do to change that.

“When are they coming to tow your truck?” she asked as we climbed in.

“They said sometime this morning.”

“Well, I’ll be home all day if you need me to come over and talk to them.”

She started the car and shifted into reverse. I settled my lunch pail at my feet and my tumbler between my legs as I fastened my seatbelt.

“Do you work at the cabin with the sign in front of it much?” I asked.

She braked at the end of the driveway, looking both ways, even though the chance of someone driving down this road was pretty slim. “Only in the busy season. There’s a sign on the door right now saying to call for assistance. If I get a call, I have to go down, but most of the time I can work from home.”

“You do that and your schoolwork at the same time?”

Mallorie nodded and backed out onto the street. “That’s the thing. He doesn’t mind me doing my schoolwork. This job started out as someone who just babysat the cabin incase someone dropped in, but these days, we spend more time responding to online requests and emails from existing homeowners. My job is basically to be on call in case I’m needed. He doesn’t really pay me all that much, but as you know, the cost of living here is pretty low.”

“And that’s why you moved back?” I asked.

I had to admit, being confined with her in this small car was doing a number on me. All I had to do was move my hand to the left a little, and I’d be touching her arm where it rested on the console. I wondered if she noticed.

“Sort of,” she said. “My mom moved to Boone after I left for college, so it’s not like I have family here. I stayed with her for a couple of months after graduation, but…well, I needed to be out on my own. I was invited to share a high-rise condo in downtown Durham with a couple of my college roommates, but I’m not a city girl. Seduction Summit is more my speed.”

I liked the sound of that. But it brought another question.

“What about your law degree? Do you plan to practice here in Seduction Summit?”

When she didn’t answer right away, I started to worry. And then I hated myself for letting it bother me. If she had to leave to take a job in a bigger city, that would be a good thing, right? What did I think was going to happen? That she’d get her degree, land a job at the Seduction Summit Courthouse, and date me until someday we got married and had kids?

I didn’t want to get married and have kids. I didn’t.

Ididn’t.

Why was I feeling less certain about that than ever? Over what? This woman? Just because she smelled like flowers and had long, dark hair that I ached to run my fingers through? Just because I couldn’t stop thinking about her?

It was already becoming a problem. Last night, the guys noticed that I was distracted at our weekly poker game. They knew something was up even before I did.

“This is it,” I said when she pulled into the parking lot of this week’s job site.

My surprise was clear in my voice. I hadn’t even given her directions. It was like she’d already scouted out where we were working right now.

Then I remembered she’d mentioned her best friend was dating Dane. Of course she knew where we were working.

“I’ll see you around seven?” she asked. “Do you like spaghetti and meatballs?”

My stomach jumped to attention at the question. The oatmeal I’d slammed down before walking out of the house wouldn’t hold me over until lunch if I started thinking about spaghetti and meatballs.

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