Page 7 of The Mountain Man's Accidental Bride
It’s a miracle I don’t laugh at myself because of how pathetic I’m acting.
What in the hell is wrong with me? I hardly recognize myself from the way I’m acting.
There’s a loud boom outside that makes Payton jump. It’s not like the previous rounds of thunder, much louder and closer. It stops her from taking another bite, and she looks my way for answers.
“Probably a tree falling. We get a few of those.” Pulling whatever answer comes first, my words seem to relieve her. They have the opposite effect on me.
If itisa fallen tree, what if it’s one blocking the path of getting off the mountain? All that means is that Payton won’t be able to leave in the morning. She’ll have to be stuck here even longer.
A conflicting sensation rolls around in my chest, one I don’t know how to dissect.
“I don’t do too well in storms, you know. Seriously. I’ve heard a tornado siren once in my life, and that was very scary. Spent three hours in a basement that had enough spiders to create anarmy and a smell that could’ve taken out one.” Letting out a laugh in an attempt to make herself feel better, the laugh dies off. Her eyes flicker between me and the storm, and she catches her bottom lip between her teeth. “We’re going to survive this mess, right?”
“We’re going to be just fine. The cabins on this mountain were built to withstand anything.” The words taste oddly earnest in my mouth—like I’m not just reassuring her, but making a concrete promise.
As if on cue, the lights stutter again, casting jagged shadows over the way Payton’s knuckles whiten around her spoon. She’s stirring that soup like it holds the answers, her shoulders tense as coiled wire.
I want to fix it. Comfort her and make her see that this mountain isn’t too bad. The urge is demanding, devouring anything else.
I shouldn’t care if she flees this mountain the moment the clouds clear, just like the other brides that have drifted up here thinking they could give up certain things in life.
When was the last time I ached to soothe someone else’s fear instead of walking away? When did I ever notice the way someone’s breath hitches, let alone care enough to steady it?
Payton stumbled into my life simply to unravel my own selfishness. To make me question everything.
The longer I spend with her, the more I want to know. From the reason behind these sensations clawing at my chest, to figuring out what it’s going to take to make her forget about everything happening on the outside of the cabin, to focusing on what is happening on the inside.
With how much concern I’m throwing her way, there’s also the weight of the past that’s eating at me.
Last year, when I tried to find love, I’d never dealt with a woman who had me in such a distressed state.
Cupid’s Bloom Co. somehow knew it beforeIdid. What if I was wrong?
What if that company had something right? What if no one was on there for me because my other half wasn’t on the site at the time?
If Payton had been, would we have been paired up?
No. What a foolish thought. Now that it’s crossed my mind, I know it won’t be one that is easy to get out of my head as a possibility.
3
Payton
The storm continues to howl, hardly easing up despite the couple of hours that have passed. After catching August muttering about how the storm should be easing up, probably in a way to aid my worries, I realized it must’ve been the opposite.
The worst has yet to come.
Every time the wind rattles the windows, his jaw tightens. I can’t tell if it’s the storm that’s put that permanent crease between his brows or the fact that I’m here at all—an inconvenient guest in his solitary world.
Then he went out of his way to shove a blanket at me without me having to tell him that I’m cold. He asks if I need water, then scowls when I say yes, as if my thirst is a personal offense.
This guy is the definition of frustration. I don’t get it.
Still, that look on his face—jaw tight, eyes dark with something between irritation and something I don’t recognize—makes me wonder if he resents me for being here. Or worse, resents himself for making the offer to come inside.
If he hadn’t stopped me from storming off, I don’t think I’d like imagining where I’d be instead. Trapped inside my car beneath a big tree, probably. Definitely dead.
When the thought makes a shiver crawl up my spine, I clutch the blanket closer to my body to hide my tremble before he tries to shove another log inside.
