Page 9 of The Mountain Man's Accidental Bride
My fingers freeze. The air between us grows thicker, warmer. Each inhale makes my skin prickle.
“And when your cards are shit?” He leans forward, bracing his forearms on the table. The tattoo on his knuckles stretches with the movement. “You deflate. Bite your lip.”
His eyes dip toward my mouth like he’s ready to provide proof of my bad habits. He grunts when he catches me swiping at my bottom lip with my tongue instead.
It’s something I do when I’m feeling nervous. Another bad habit.
Has he always watched me this closely?
The realization licks through me, hot and slow. My skin flushes; my pulse thrums in my throat. He sees it all—the hitch in my breathing, the way my lashes flicker when his voice drops.
“So no,” he murmurs, finally picking up his cards. Pulling back completely unaffected, he flicks through his card. “I don’t need to cheat to win against you.”
I should say something clever, claim that he’s completely full of it. However, I don’t trust myself to speak. Not while my breath is shaking and my toes are curling tight. When I do have the confidence to part my lips, I don’t get the chance to say anything.
Rather, the only sound to leave my lips is a gasp when the lights suddenly go out, leaving us in darkness. The fire makes it possible to see the outline of everything, but it’s the lightning that lights up the scowl on August’s face.
We wait a few seconds in silence, and I realize I’m holding my breath. As my lungs burn, I take in a deep breath as he moves to stand.
“Wait, where are you going?” I hate the panic in my voice, but I can’t lie, I like that he’s purposely stayed at my side this whole time.
I don’t want to be left alone.
“Power isn’t going to kick back on by itself. Need to get the generator going.” He carefully maneuvers around the table and sighs when I try to get up and follow him. “I have to leave the cabin. It’s out in the garage. Stay here where it’s dry.”
He’s back to using the authoritative tone that makes my heart flutter. Too serious for his own good. While it technically makes me stop moving, it doesn’t stop the panic from rising in my chest.
“You can’t be serious. Is it even worth going out there?” Remembering how to use my legs, I take a few more steps toward him. “It’s fine. We can just call it and sleep. It’s not worth going out there. You… you’ll be blown away.”
It sounds ridiculous coming out of my mouth, especially when this guy is built like a brick wall, but I feel like I have to convince him to stay somehow.
What if he slips and gets hurt? There are worse fates than breaking a bone. After going so far out of his way to accommodate me, there’s no way I won’t feel responsible if something happens.
Making it all the way to the front of his home, I chew on my lip as he laces up his boots and throws on a jacket. As if such flimsy fabric will keep him dry.
“I’ll be quick. Why not reshuffle those cards and think of a game you’re better at?” With an attempt to reassure me, his scowl cracks, revealing a hint of a smile.
A nervous tremor flutters through my ribs, sinking like a stone into my stomach. My toes curl against the carpet, gripping as if they could root me in place. When I try to speak, my tongue sits heavy and useless in my mouth, so I just nod as he turns toward the door.
The night swallows him whole.
One moment he’s there, shoulders braced against the coming storm, and the next…nothing. Just the slam of the door and thehollow echo of his absence. Cold air licks at my ankles where the draft slips through, raising goosebumps that have nothing to do with the temperature.
This isn’t right. The weight in my gut isn’t just worry—it’s dread, thick and suffocating, coating every thought of what comes next, of what might already be happening in that howling dark beyond the cabin walls.
He shouldn’t be out there.
On shaky footing, I make my way through the darkness, using the light of the fire to guide me toward the couch. Taking a seat, I gather up all the cars and work to mix them up.
Why am I so worried? August can take care of himself. He’s a part of this mountain; he knows what he can handle and what he can’t.
My heart won’t stop its traitorous rhythm—that relentless pounding that doesn’t care about distance or decency. Whether I’m close enough to catch the woodsmoke clinging to his flannel or sitting across the room, my pulse thrums the same frantic beat.
Setting the cards down, I thrust my fingers through my hair and sigh.
There’s another possibility, but it’s impossible. Totally impossible.
I get it. I haven’t put myself in a situation to be alone with a man very often, but I came here with the intent to marry a different man. My heart already had a name written on it. Sure, love has nothing to do with it, but Walton is the one who agreed to have me.
