Page 51 of Grumpy on the Mountain
I watch as he types on the screen, and I notice he's not just adding his number to my contacts. He's in the phone emergency settings, setting the 'ICE' call information.
"Um. Did you just make yourself my emergency contact?" I ask, reading over his shoulder.
For a second, he almost looks almost embarrassed. But then he just shrugs and hands the phone back to me. "Yeah. I mean, if that's... if you don't want—"
"I want," I say quickly, surprised by how much I mean it. "I definitely want."
Our eyes meet, and I feel my heart kick it up a notch. Who wouldn't want this man to be the person they called in their moment of need?
"Good," he says quietly. "And look at it this way. At least now with this new hone, when I drop you off tonight, I'll still be able to talk to you."
Drop me off?Shit.Back to Sienna's house. Back to being a guest in someone else's life, back to the reality that this perfect day has to end eventually.
But maybe…
Maybe it doesn't have to end yet.
"What if," I say, surprising myself with my boldness, "I don't want to be dropped off?"
Beau goes very still. "What do you mean?"
"I mean maybe I want to see where you live. Your cabin. Your world." My heart is hammering against my ribs, but I force myself to meet his eyes. "You've shown me around the entire town, Beau. But there's still one place I'm yet to see."
For a long moment, we just stare at each other. Then, Beau swallows thickly and looks into my eyes.
"Molly," he says finally, his voice rough. "If you come up to my cabin..."
"Yes?" I step closer, letting my breath touch his lips.
"I'm not going to want to let you leave."
The honesty in his voice, the raw need I hear there, makes something hot and desperate unfurl in my chest.
I bat my lashes and swipe my tongue over my lips. "And what if I don't want to leave?"
His eyes darken, and when he looks at me, I feel like he's seeing straight through to my soul.
"Then get in the truck."
Chapter Twelve
Beau
She wants to see my cabin.
That's the thought looping through my brain as I navigate the winding mountain road, my knuckles white on the steering wheel like I'm trying to strangle it into submission.
Molly fucking Jennings wants to see my world. My cabin. The place I built with my bare hands to keep everyone else out.
And now I'm driving her straight into it.
What the hell am I doing?
"Oh my God, Beau, this is gorgeous!" Molly exclaims, and I glance over to see her practically pressed against the passenger window, new phone in hand as she snaps pictures of the forest rushing past. "The sunset is starting to break through the trees!"
I grunt in response because my vocal cords seem to have forgotten how to form actual words.
Did I do laundry this week? When's the last time I changed my sheets? Do I even have food that isn't beer, whiskey, and thatfrozen rabbit stew I made three months ago when I couldn't face another trip to town?
