Page 9 of My Grumpy Mountain Man

“But I like that about you.” He gives me a hint of a smile, it complements his dark beard so well. I swear every time he smiles, my chest beats faster.

I like a lot of things about him. His grumpiness, hiding how sweet he actually is. His tattooed chest that I can’t stop staring at. His lips on mine.

“So you understand why I don’t want them to come, right?”

“Did–” I start before stopping the question I’m about to ask. I don’t want to pressure him, to make him talk about things he doesn’t want to.

“Did anyone die here?”

“No, sunshine. But I almost did when I was a kid.”

I tighten my hold on his hand and he squeezes mine in return.

“I used to come here with my grandpa during the summer. He never allowed me to go alone, he was always here. But one day, I decided I was grown up, that I didn’t need him to come with me. After all, I’d come here every day! So when he wasn’t looking, perhaps thinking I was playing inside, I went to the lake. At first it was great, I was here all by myself, feeling like an adult, very proud of myself. But I underestimated how tired I got and, as you saw, you can’t really put your feet on the ground unless you’re right near the margin. I was already very tall backthen but the water was too deep. I knew exactly what I had to do but I just couldn’t. Somehow I panicked. I could have floated, let myself rest for a while. I don’t know what happened, I just knew I was lucky enough my grandpa figured out where I was before it was too late.”

I squeeze hard, I can’t imagine going through something like that. It’s clear he still carries that with him. It’s obvious why he doesn’t want to be responsible for an accident.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

We sit quietly for a while, admiring the lake and the various colors that it acquires as the sun gets lower, replacing the oranges with dark purples.

“Here I thought you didn’t like the kids littering the place.”

“I don’t like that either. I don’t understand why some people can’t pick up after themselves. Sometimes I get down on the beach and there are plastic bottles all over the place. Pigs, that’s what they are.”

I laugh loudly at his rant, unable to contain myself. He scowls at me. I just grin back.

“You know what you should do? You should let them see it.”

“Who?”

“The adults at the school.”

“Why? I’ve explained multiple times that I think it’s unsafe. They believe just because it’s a small lake, it’s safe. Dumbasses.”

“You’re frightening, you know that right?”

“You don’t look frightened.”

“I’m special.”

“That you are.” His tone is so intense that my cheeks are once again burning and I look down to our interlaced hands.

“People are afraid of you and just think you’re lying to them to get them out of your way. I think that’s what’s happening.”

“Okay, I can do that. But I’m not saving anyone.”

“Just me?”

“Just you.”

I want to kiss him again, but I can’t get the nerve to look him in the eyes again. Him saying I was special it’s still echoing all over me.

He leans in, grabs my chin and tilts my head so I can’t escape. Drowning in his dark eyes, I forget how to breathe before his lips are on mine again, demanding, not letting me escape, and it’s enough to bring me back to the surface. When his tongue nudges my mouth to open, I welcome him, eager to feel more of him. He’s rough but caring, just like how he talks to me. He doesn’t touch me anywhere else, and it’s infuriating because I need him to touch me everywhere. I grab one of his hands and put it on my breast.

“Sunshine, are you sure?”

“I’m sure, I need more,” I say desperately as I catch my breath.

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