Page 3 of The Mountain Man's Mail Order Surprise
When was the last time I did anything just for me? When did I last make a choice based on what I wanted instead of what was expected, what was safe, what would keep the peace?
"I don't even know you," I whisper.
"Then let me fix that." His hand covers mine completely. "I'm thirty-four years old. I live in a cabin in the mountains of British Columbia where the air is so clean it hurts your lungs the first time you breathe it. I built that cabin with my own hands, along with most of the furniture inside it."
"Rosco..."
"I have seven cousins who drive me crazy but who I'd die for without question. I've never been married, never found anyone who wanted the life I was offering. I work with my hands because it's honest, and I sleep like the dead because I earn my rest."
Each detail he shares feels like a gift, a piece of himself offered freely. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I want you to know who you'd be spending the night with. I want you to know that I'm not going to hurt you,not going to push you for anything you don't want to give." His thumb traces patterns on my skin that make me shiver. "And I want you to know that the beautiful woman sitting beside me deserves so much better than whatever asshole put that mark on her face."
Beautiful.When did anyone last call me beautiful and mean it?
"This is crazy," I say, but I don't pull my hand away.
"Maybe. But sometimes crazy is exactly what we need."
I look into his dark eyes and see nothing but sincerity and a heat that makes my breath catch. For two years, I've played it safe. I've been the good girlfriend, the compliant partner, the woman who never rocks the boat or asks for too much.
And where has it gotten me? Sitting in a hotel bar with a bruised face and a broken spirit, afraid to go back to my own room.
"Okay," I whisper.
"Okay?"
"Okay, I'll stay with you tonight." The words feel like stepping off a cliff, terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. "But just to sleep. I'm not... I can't..."
"Hey." He lifts our joined hands, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. "Just to sleep. Just so you're not alone."
Relief floods through me, followed immediately by something that might be disappointment. "Really?"
"Really." But the way he's looking at me suggests he's hoping I might change my mind. "Unless you want more than that."
Do I? The thought of being touched with tenderness instead of possession, of being wanted instead of controlled, sends heat spiraling through my body. It's been so long since I felt desired instead of just... useful.
"I don't know what I want," I admit.
"That's okay. We've got all night to figure it out."
He settles our bill and leads me to the elevator, his hand warm and steady on my lower back. I should be nervous, should be second-guessing this decision. Instead, I feel calmer than I have in months.
His room ison the fifteenth floor, a standard business suite that somehow feels more welcoming than the luxury penthouse Zack always insists on. Rosco doesn't turn on the overhead lights, just the bedside lamp that casts everything in warm, golden tones.
"You want something to drink? Water, soda from the minibar?"
"Water would be great." I hover near the door, suddenly unsure. What's the protocol for this? I've never spent the night with a stranger, never done anything this impulsive.
He brings me a bottle of water and settles into the armchair by the window, leaving the bed and most of the room to me. The consideration in that simple gesture makes my chest tight.
"So," I say, perching on the edge of the bed. "This is awkward."
"It doesn't have to be." His smile is easy, relaxed. "Want to watch a movie? Talk? I can bore you to sleep with stories about foundation problems and load bearing walls."
I laugh, and it feels so good I want to do it again. "Construction stories might actually be exactly what I need right now. Something completely removed from my real life."
"Your real life that fucking sucks?"
