Page 6 of Wounded Mountain Man

“You stay pretty busy? And the pay is good?”

“People around here tip well, and yeah, there’s no shortage of business. But now I guess I don’t have a reliable car.”

“It’s reliable. Brock will get you fixed right up. Is that your long-term plan? To stay here in town?”

I didn’t live here in town. I lived in the next town over. I didn’t have to point that out to him, though. He knew.

“Good question,” I said. “I learned a long time ago not to make long-term plans.”

That was what happened when you had complete instability in your life. You dreamed of a day you could get away from the chaos—from abusive boyfriends and loud fights that eventually ended with ‘pack up, we’re out of here.’

“I want to work with kids.”

Those words spilled out the second they hit my brain. Growing up, teachers were often the only stability I had. I was one of the few kids I knew who looked forward to getting on thatschool bus and being carried away to a place where everything was structured and I always knew what to expect. If I could be that for even one kid in a bad home situation, I’d do it.

“There’s a great school system here,” he said.

“Unfortunately, you need a college degree to teach. In most towns, anyway.”

“I’m sure they’d work with you. I don’t know what Seduction Summit’s situation is as far as teachers, but it might be worth looking into.”

He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know, but the words were exactly what I needed to hear right now. Four years of college seemed overwhelming, especially when I’d have to pay for it or rack up tens of thousands of dollars in student loans. But there was no reason I couldn’t take it one class at a time.

“What about you?” I asked, eager to turn the conversation away from myself.

“I plan to stay here for the rest of my life. Maybe not in this exact spot, but somewhere in this town. If they run me off here, I’ll move to the nearest campground until I figure it out. But there’s no long-term campsite option here.”

That wasn’t what I was talking about. “And you’re retired?”

Was that how it worked in the military? I really had no idea. Even if I had all the money in the world, I’d still want to do something.

“I thought I’d be happy just fishing and hiking, but I need more,” he said. “I’m looking to get certified. Maybe as an electrician. Every town needs one of those.”

“I’ve heard most of the vets around here work for the logging crews, right? Or in construction?”

He nodded. “I’m not a fan of working as part of a team, though. Not anymore.”

Those last two words answered my next question, which I wouldn’t have spoken out loud. Being in the military meanthaving to work in teams. I sensed that he’d gotten his fill of that. Maybe his time in the military had done that. But no, something deeper was going on here. Something had gone wrong somewhere.

“What do you think?”

His question threw me off. I scrambled to figure out how it fit into the current conversation, but it didn’t. His gaze deliberately dropped, and for a breathtaking second, I was sure he was checking out the way my chest strained my T-shirt. It was lightweight and comfortable during the summer months, but it was a little tight. I just assumed, since my passengers sat in the back seat and really couldn’t check me out, it was fine for work.

But he wasn’t looking at my chest. He was looking at the burger. That was clear even before he said his next words.

“They make the best burgers in the area, hands down. Don’t tell the diner I said that, though.”

I smiled. “Your secret’s safe with me. But I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed.”

He frowned. “Why’s that?”

“I thought you were checking out my chest.”

What was I doing? Why was I saying that? The words just slipped out. The alcohol must be loosening my tongue. But I hadn’t had that much.

He lowered his gaze, but he didn’t take his eyes off my face as he said, “Oh, believe me, I’ve checked out your chest—and the rest of you—many times. I just know how to be sneaky about it. You want to go for a ride?”

The question startled me. Was he taking me to my place? I didn’t want that. It would mean this evening was ending. But in a couple of bites, my burger would be history, and he’d already finished off his, along with most of the fries in the container between us. I was running out of reasons to stay here, especially if he was offering me a ride home.

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