Page 8 of Forgotten Mountain Man

Not too soon, because something about having Faith Somerset in my home reminded me of what it was like to share my space with another person for more than a few scant hours.

And…I liked it.

Having her around. Loud, crass, and filthy mouthed. Faith already made me question the way I set myself up, the choicesI’d made over the years. As uncomfortable as that made me in the first few hours we shared the same breathing air while the rain thundered down on my roof, I also liked that she challenged me.

It had been a whole lot of years since anyone had the balls to do that, probably longer to my face.

“When do we start?” I winced at the words that left my mouth, but she’d come here to do a job, and now she was stuck in a place that didn’t suit her.

The least I could do was give her the courtesy of my attention before I turned her down.

Besides, it gave me a reason to look at her wherever she talked, and by God could that woman use her mouth. Which made me wonder, while her hips swayed gently and the rain kept her locked away inside my house, what else she might use her pretty, cherry lips for.

Then I banished those thoughts and tried to look civilized while she turned those color change eyes on me, lit with enough hope that my room felt like the sun rose and the rain stopped.

I checked over her shoulder before I dashed her hopes past a month of Sundays.

It hadn’t. Rain still lashed the side of the mountain in sheets, some of the spray entering the veranda as a gust of wind caught it and lifted the icy droplets to cover her feet.

“Come away. You’ll end up freezing, or sick.” I planted her ass in my chair and leaned against the wall instead. “Tell me what you came up here to say.”

Faith studied the bottom of her coffee mug and said nothing.

My eyebrows rose as the silence stretched out. “What?” I prompted her. “Surely my father didn’t frighten you so badly that you can’t tell me what he wanted you to say without all your pieces of paper or your phone on?” All the papersthat disappeared down the mountain along with her car. Guilt assuaged me as my voice ran out of juice at that point.

I folded my arms over my chest and refused flat out to cough, though my throat itched motherfucking abominably. I was done talking. Now it was her turn.

She peeked up at me through her lashes. I had no idea if Faith knew just how cute she looked, stuffed into my oversized clothing that hung off her tiny frame, her flame colored hair tousled about her like I’d fucked her seven ways from Friday, but she bit her lip and doubled the effect in seconds. “Can I invade your pantry and make my own coffee this time? Pretty please?” Her bare feet, still slightly damp, dangled off the edge of my hand made rocker that I broke twenty times just in the process of designing the thing. She sank deep into the pillows that supported my back like I’d carved it just for her.

I swallowed hard and jerked my head to one side. “Yeah. Did I fu– didn’t I make it right?”

She shrugged and struggled to get off the edge, like Goldilocks trying to get out of Papa Bear’s too-big chair. “Could be a bit stronger.”

I bit back a laugh. “Stronger? Girl, I emptied half the tin into that thing.”

She grinned back at me, swinging her feet off the edge of my seat. “Mmm. Might be able to teach you a thing or two yet.”

Shaking my head, I reached down and slid my hands under her arms and lifted her along my front, taking the few steps to my kitchen and placed her on the granite stone floor. Her toes touched the cold ground. She squeaked, looking down, then back at me with wide eyes.

It didn't take long for her to track the marks carved deep into the stone that took the Red Hart teens—then—and me the better part of two years to carve out once the boys left me alone.

“You built the house in the literal mountain?” she whispered.

I swore if her eyes got any wider, she’d pop out of existence and turn into an anime princess. The girl was a walking wet dream. I rubbed the back of my neck.

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Want a tour of what’s back there?”

I’d only needed to make her a basic dinner of ramen noodles and stock soup plus coffee the night before and this morning, plus some toast so I hadn't needed to go far, which was probably how she came to the conclusion that’s all the pantry did.

My comment seemed to hit home. Her mouth opened then shut and she nodded once. Fast.

I held out my hand.Mistake.But I did it anyway.

She wound her fingers around mine, her touch soft and warm, like it had been when she rested her face against my palm last night. That had been a mistake, too, because it had been a damn close thing, wanting to invite her into my bed instead of leaving her to sleep in hers.

And sleep she did, purring away with the sort of resonation that meant that while she got rest, I did not. Not that I minded. If she slept, she felt safe, and that had been the goal.

Yeah, fucking right.

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