Page 5 of The Mountain Man's Accidental Bride
She’s come to the wrong place, then. If Walt doesn’t work out, she’ll find someone else in town who will want to provide her with what she wants. The problem is that shedoesstick out.
“Got a name?” I ask, then catch myself.
With her, it’s not just about taking—it’s about giving, too. A trade.
“August,” I offer, like it’s something she might actually care to know.
She purses her lips together before the tension in her shoulders loosens. “Payton.”
Payton.Payton.
It’s relieving to have one answer to the multitude of questions spiraling around in my head.
“Payton.” Saying her name out loud, I notice the way she shivers. Is the fire not hot enough? Do I need more logs?
No, it must be her clothing. The fabric is still damp, risking drying out her skin at this rate.
“Can’t you change into something dry?” The words come out clipped, and I bury my fingers through my hair to let out the frustration I’m feeling.
“All my stuff is out in my car, and that’s a hike uphill in mud. So, unless you have a better idea, I think I’m going to have to suck it up.”
I do have a better idea—for her. However, I know if I go through with my idea, I’ll be the one suffering. Still, it beats watching her shiver until her teeth start chattering. It’ll save me from her complaints later if her skin chaps.
“Wait here.” Turning away, I don’t wait to see if she’ll listen. Instead, I drift to my room. Heading to the closet, I sift through my clothes, trying to find something old. Something I don’t wear anymore. Something I can say goodbye to.
Finally, I find a buttoned-up shirt that’s faded from countless days out in the sun. On her, it’s big enough to be considered a nightgown. I’m sure she’ll swim in it.
Gripping it tight in my fist, I return with a straight face. “It’s one of the shirts I don’t wear anymore. It has to be more comfortable than hanging around in wet clothes.
She stares at my offering, blinking as if she’s struggling to understand what I’m trying to give her. I can’t blame her for being hesitant. I wouldn’t trust a stranger after the first meeting enough to wear their clothes.
Unfortunately, she doesn’t really have the choice to pick and choose what she can do to get her comfort.
“Um, thanks.” Growing suddenly shy, I don’t miss the way her cheeks grow pink as she takes the shirt from my grip. Looking around my home, I clear my throat.
“The bathroom is just around the corner. You can’t miss it.” Pointing over in the direction of the hall, I shuffle my way toward the couch to sit. I’m not sure how much I trust my legs to keep carrying me like this. Not while I’m feeling this way.
Such confusing feelings.
Thanking me, she drifts away, giving me a few minutes of peace. Some time to figure out what the hell I’m doing.
Damn storm. If it didn’t give us limited options, I could have her on the other side of the mountain by now.
With my knee soon bouncing, I’m back on my feet, running straight to the fireplace to throw in another log. I need a proper reason to feel as warm as I do.
Payton steps back in, drowning in my shirt.
The thing swallows her whole, the hem brushing mid-thigh, but it’s the way she plucks at the buttons—like they’ve personally offended her—that snags my attention. Her fingers fumble, and my gaze drifts lower before I can stop it.
Creamy thighs, flushed pink from embarrassment. A sliver of collarbone peeking out where the fabric gapes. She’s muttering something about the size, but all I hear is the hitch in her breath when she catches me looking.
Fuck.This is what I get for trying to be helpful.
I jerk my chin toward the couch. “It’s dry. That’s all that matters.”
My cock stirs, thick and stupid, like it’s forgotten what a woman’s skin tastes like. It’s been years.
I scrub a hand over my mouth, bitter laughter lodged in my throat. Of all the nights for my body to remember it’s alive.
