Page 28 of Grumpy on the Mountain
"Oh my God, stop," I groan, pulling the burgundy sweater over my head. "It's just dinner!"
Sienna laughs. "Beau Callahan doesn't do anything out of pity. He barely does anything out of basic human decency. If he asked you to dinner, it's because he wanted to."
I smooth the sweater over my hips, critically examining my reflection in the mirror. The neckline dips just low enough to show the curve of my breasts without being too obvious. I think.
I push the thought away and reach for my boots. "This is probably a terrible idea."
"Probably," Sienna agrees cheerfully. "But terrible ideas make the best stories."
Before I can respond, the rumble of a truck engine cuts through the quiet evening. My heart leaps into my throat.
"He's here!" Maisie shouts from down the hall, followed by the thunder of little feet racing toward the front door.
"Shit," I mutter, fumbling for my coat. "I'm not ready!"
"Yes, you are," Sienna says, her tone suddenly softer. "You look beautiful, Mol. And you deserve a nice night out, even if it is with the grumpiest man in three counties."
The warmth in her voice makes my throat tight.
For so long with Riley, getting ready meant trying to avoid criticism. With Sienna, it feels like... support. Like I can't really get it wrong.
I grab my purse and take a deep breath. "Okay. It's just dinner. What's the worst that could happen?"
"Well, you could end up discovering just how strong mountain men really are." Sienna's grin turns wicked and she winks. "In thebestway possible."
"I hate you," I laugh, shoving past her.
"No you don't!" she calls after me. "Have fun! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
"That leaves a terrifyingly wide range of options," I shout back, hurrying toward the front door.
I dash across the yard, immediately regretting my choice of heels as they sink into the snowy ground. The passenger door of Beau's truck is already open, waiting for me, and I manage to clamber up with marginally more grace than last time.
When I look over, the words I'd planned to say die in my throat.
Beau is staring.
Not just looking—staring, his eyes dark and intent, fixed somewhere in the vicinity of my sweater's neckline. His jaw is clenched so tight I can see a muscle jumping in his cheek, and his knuckles are white on the steering wheel.
I should be offended. I should clear my throat or make some snarky comment.
Instead, I feel a rush of heat that makes my nipples tighten and my skin flush.
"Yoohoo!My face is up here, big guy," I finally say, trying for teasing but landing somewhere closer to breathless.
His eyes snap up to mine. "I know where your face is."
The gruff response shouldn't send a thrill through me, but it does. There's something about the rough edge to his voice that makes me want to hear what it sounds like when he's completely undone.
Down, girl. It's just dinner.
Beau shifts the truck into gear and pulls away from Sienna's house.
We drive through the town with fresh snow covering everything. It still looks like something from a Christmas card, with the quaint storefronts with twinkling lights, smoke curling from chimneys, people bustling along cleared sidewalks, all of them stopping to talk to each other as they pass.
"It's beautiful," I say, unable to keep the wonder from my voice.
When I glance over, there's the faintest hint of a smile tugging at Beau's lips.
