Page 11 of Grumpy on the Mountain
I watch Beau through the frosted window, the way his shoulders move beneath his jacket, the confidence in every motion. I'm not typically the kind of woman who goes weak-kneed over brawn, but there's something about the pure competence in his movements that's undeniably...stirring.
Get it together, Molly. Your man-picker is broken, remember?
When Beau climbs back in, bringing another swirl of snow and cold, I've composed myself enough to offer a smile.
"So, onward to Sienna's?"
He nods, putting the truck in gear. "Better hurry. Roads are getting worse."
As if to prove his point, the truck twists on the road before his capable hands correct our course. I grip the door handle, suddenly very aware of how dangerous the weather has become.
"Maybe we should go back to the café?" I suggest. "I could wait it out with those lovely old ladies."
That actually gets a snort out of him.
"Etta and Mabel? Fuck. They would have your entire life story, and probably your head measurements, before the storm lets up."
"Hear measurements?"
He scoffs what might nearly be a laugh. "They make everyone beanies. It's complete ridiculous."
"Awww…" I coo, which earns me an eyeroll from Mr. Grumpy. "I think that's sweet."
"It's not sweet. Last year mine had pine trees. Year before that, wolves." He shakes his head, the scowl deepening across his brow. "They've got a whole system worked out. And God help you if you don't wear it when they see you around town."
I bite my lip to keep from laughing at the mental image of this mountain of a man being scolded by a little old lady over knitwear.
"So what you're saying is, the big bearded man is afraid of two grandmas with yarn?"
His eyes cut to mine, but there's a grudging humor there. "You won't be laughing when they get their hooks in you. Literally."
"Well, at least I found something that actually gets you talking."
We turn onto what I assume is the main road out of town, but Beau abruptly slows, leaning forward to peer through the windshield.
"Shit," he mutters, leaning forward in his seat.
"What is it?"
"Tree down. Blocking the road."
Through the snow, I can just make out the dark shape of a fallen pine stretching across our path.
"So...back to the café?" I ask hopefully.
He shakes his head. "There's another way around. Longer, but it'll get us there."
He reverses the truck, throwing his arm over the headrest behind me, the heat of his body opening up as he watches behind us. My heart pounds watching him expertly steer us in these conditions, turning onto a narrower road that winds up into the trees.
The incline is steep, and I find myself bracing against the dashboard as we climb.
"You know," I say, desperate to fill the silence with something other than the howling wind. "You actually look really familiar. I knew a Beau once—my ex's brother. He was a quiet guy, though. Kept to himself most of the time."
His hands tighten on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. "It's a common enough name."
"I guess... Riley was the opposite of quiet though. God, he could talk for hours about himself. I spent too long nodding and smiling until I realized I'd forgotten what my own voice sounded like—"
"Watch out!" Beau suddenly barks, and the truck bounces as we hit a deep pothole.
