Page 77 of Mountain Wood

“Good, because I was going to consider that whole kidnapping situation Conner brought up last night if you were to tell me no. The instant you walkedout the door, it was like my heart ripped out of my chest.”

The surrounding silence is soothing. All I can hear is the light tuts of snowflakes landing. I take a few minutes to calm down and collect myself. Dean holds me in his lap patiently, which is more helpful than he probably realizes.

“Landon and Kerrington are with my best friend Nicole. The other one we were talking about was my oldest brother, Mason. If he knew I came out to a secluded place in winter, all by myself, he’d be coming for me. The jerk treats me like I’m five.”

“He loves you.”

“He’s controlling.”

“He just wants to make sure you’re safe and cared for.”

“He needs to mind his own business.”

“He’s your brother.”

“He’s unbearable.”

“I think I’m going to really like him.”

We fall into silence again and Dean peels off his heavy shirt and wraps it around me.

“Come on, baby.” He lifts me into his arms and quietly carries me back to the house. I’m struggling to understand the timeline of the past three, four, five days on this mountain. Are we really falling in love with each other or is this extreme infatuation and lust?

Our instant attraction doesn’t sway the argument one way or the other.

If you love someone, you’d do anything for them. Would I do anything for Dean?

The instant he carries me inside, I completely relax and breathe deeply.

Dean makes hot chocolate while I sit at the table. He’s shirtless still, because I haven’t taken his flannel off me yet. The wood crackling in the fireplace, the scent of cinnamon and leather, the sunlight pouring in from the windows, the snow falling, it feels like home.

Dean… feels like home.

“Smoke is coming out of your ears,” he teases. Placing a mug in front of me, he sits next to me and covers my hand with his. “What’s your head telling you now?”

I stare at the marshmallows floating in my steamy mug, expanding and softening. I’ve had to be tough my whole life. Dean’s warmth is softening me, turning me gooey. “I’m a lot like a marshmallow.”

“Made of sugar?”

I love that he calls me that all the time. I’ve never had a nickname before. Gracie doesn’t count.

“What if this is just a phase?” I whisper. “I’ve never been in love before.”

Dean carefully takes a sip of his drink and sets it down. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Guess we gotta find out the hard way.”

So he’s worried about it too?

“We just met,” I say.

“I’m aware.”

“I’m already living with you.”

“Tell me about it.”

“The snow isn’t stopping.”

“I warned you.”

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