Page 76 of Mountain Daddy

Maybe today is the day I stop running.

The GPS leadsme to the outskirts of town. Past the main drag. Straight into the woods.

His cabin sits at the end of a gravel drive. Log construction. Wraparound porch.

Looks fancy, but simple.

I park beside his Aston Martin. Sit there for a full minute, trying to work up the courage to get out.

Just return the wallet. Hand it over. Leave.

Simple.

That's when I hear it.

The rhythmic thunk of an axe splitting wood.

I follow the sound around the side of the cabin. And that's when I see him.

Holy. Hell.

Nikolai stands beside a massive pile of logs. Shirtless. Jeans slung low on his hips. Muscles rippling as he brings the axe down in a perfect arc.

Sweat gleams on his chest. His back. Slides down the ridges of his abs like liquid sin.

I can't move. Can't breathe. Can't think about anything except the way his body moves. Pure power. Beautiful brutality.

He's a Viking. A warrior. A man from a different time.

They don’t make men like him anymore.

My mouth goes dry. My thighs clench. Every rational thought in my head evaporates like steam.

He splits another log. The wood cracks apart.

That's when he sees me.

His movements still. Those tiger eyes find mine across the forest clearing.

"Lilly?”

"You left your wallet." My voice comes out breathy. Weak. "At the bakery."

He sets the axe aside and starts walking toward me with a predatory grace that makes my pulse skip.

"Did I?"

He stops close enough that I can smell him. Sweat and wood and wild.

"Here." I fumble in my purse. Pull out the wallet. "I thought you might need it."

He takes it. Our fingers brush. Electric.

"Thank you."

He doesn't step back. Doesn't put distance between us.

If anything, he moves closer.

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