Page 2 of Hunted By the Mountain Man

I shake my head. “Risk? What do you mean?”

He crosses his arms, shifting his weight. His jeans hug his thick thighs in all the right places, and his gray T-shirt more than hints at the well-defined build beneath. His hiking boots are expensive and thoroughly worn, and his backpack’s no joke. As far as I can tell from a glance, it’s fully loaded for overnight stays and every emergency imaginable.

“Haven’t you heard about the missing hikers?”

I nod. “It’s the talk of Murrieta. Are you looking for them?”

“My guess is there isn’t much left to look for. They were about your age and were last seen at this lake. Are you trying to find out firsthand what, or rather who, happened to them?”

“What do you mean? Do you think they’re more than lost?”

His eyes narrow as he growls in low tones, “Let me be blunt with you. Local law enforcement’s looking for bodies not missing hikers. The same goes for murder suspects. Keep your lovely ass out of the air and away from these woods, especially alone. Where are your usual companions anyway?”

My eyes narrow, and his cheeks darken. In mentioning my hiking companions, he’s just admitted to stalking me this week. An awkward pause thickens the tension in the air.

My face flushes, and my body hums with yearning. “I don’t need my usual companions.”

“And why not?” he challenges.

“Because I’ve got a very good, very persistent guardian angel.”

ChapterTwo

BRYNN

“Aguardian angel? Don’t tell me you believe in shit like that.”

“I believe in what I can see with my own eyes,” I counter, narrowing my gaze in his sexy direction.

He growls, a sound meant to scare me away, I would assume. Instead, it twists my lower core, making my panties even moister.

“A lot of shit can go wrong in an isolated place like this. You shouldn’t be up here alone and vulnerable.”

“But I wasn’t alone,” I observe. The man crosses his burly arms over his firm chest, pressing his lips together. The composite effect undoes me. A small whimper escapes my lips as more heat floods my cheeks. “Was I?” I add, pushing him towards a confession.

Only after he admits what he’s doing can we talk about why and maybe move on to quenching some of the thirst a week of his eyes on my flesh has inspired.

“And your point?” His demeanor is gruff, verging on rude, as my eyes wander over the angular planes of his body hungrily. He does the same to me, his remorseless eyes inching over every curve.

I lick my lips, my eyes boldly dropping to his gorgeous mouth. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

“I would kill any man who laid a hand on you,” he replies too quickly. Pausing for a painfully tense moment, he adds in dangerous tones, “But the real question is: How do you know I’m not the big, bad wolf?”

“You would never hurt me,” I reply, raising my chin in challenge.

“You don’t even know me. How can you say something like that?”

I press my lips tightly together, no more able to answer the question than the man who posed it. But he won’t let up, his eyes pressing me for an answer.

“Call it intuition. I just know.”

“Angels and intuition? That’s a good way to end up dead.”

I shake my head, calling his bluff. “You strike me as a man who relies on intuition.”

He leans back, eyeing me sternly as his shoulders relax ever so slightly. “You’re good at making assumptions.”

I shrug. “Blame my intuition or my angel.” I emphasize the single nature of the last word, making it clear there’s only one guardian angel I’m talking about.

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