Page 98 of Grumpy on the Mountain
I don't tell her it's because I can't stand the idea of sitting at home watching over her all night, every shadow becoming a threat. I don't tell her how the thought of her out of my sight right fills me with a panic I haven't felt since those long nights in hostile territory, when every rustle in the darkness could mean death.
Instead, I swallow down the fear like bitter medicine and focus on her smile, on making tonight perfect for her, because that's what she deserves.
"Maybe I'm asking you to go on a date with me."
"A date?" She gives me a quizzical look that means she's totally not buying my bull shit.
"Yep. A date."
"Well, in that case," she says, rising on her toes to press a soft kiss to my jaw. "Absolutely yes."
Two hours later, we're settled into our usual corner booth at Timber Tavern, and I've managed to temporarily push my concerns aside in favor of spoiling the woman I love.
The intimate lighting makes Molly's skin glow like she's been touched by firelight.
"This is gorgeous," Molly sighs, running her fingers along the smooth wood grain of the table. "And these cocktails..." Sheholds up her glass, which contains something pink and sparkling that Charlie whipped up for her. "I feel like I'm in some exclusive ski lodge that costs a thousand dollars a night."
"And don't you deserve to feel like that every day," I tell her, meaning every word.
She's got on that green sweater paired with dark jeans that hug her curves, and her hair is loose around her shoulders, catching the candlelight with every flick she makes.
The cocktail has put a flush in her cheeks, and she's relaxed in a way that makes me want to freeze this moment forever.
"You're staring," she observes with a grin.
"Hard not to," I reply, my voice coming out rougher than intended. "Most beautiful woman in the place."
"Flatterer."
But she's pleased, and that little spark in her eyes makes me want to drag her home and remind her exactly how beautiful I think she is.
We order Charlie's famous elk medallions, which arrive on beds of truffle risotto so creamy it borders on sinful. Steam rises from the perfectly seared meat, carrying the earthy aroma of wild herbs and that signature black garlic rub recipe Charlie guards like his life depends on it.
The roasted vegetables glisten with a honey-balsamic glaze, arranged in a rainbow cascade that's too pretty to disturb. Almost.
"This is incredible," Molly says around a bite of perfectly cooked elk. "How does Charlie make everything taste like it belongs in a five-star restaurant?"
"Secret ingredient," I say with mock seriousness. "Mountain magic."
She laughs, the sound bright and genuine, and for a moment I let myself believe we can stay in this bubble forever. That Rileywill stay wherever the hell he's been hiding and leave us alone to build our perfect life.
But then Charlie appears beside our table with an expression that makes my stomach drop.
"Hey folks," he says, wiping his hands on a towel. "Don't want to worry you, but there was this guy in earlier asking lots of questions about Molly. Tall, well-dressed, had that fake charm thing going. Gave me the creeps."
The color drains from Molly's face so fast I think she might faint. "What kind of questions?"
"Oh, you know. How long you'd been in town, where you worked, whether you lived alone. Real casual, but..." Charlie shrugs. "I've been tending bar long enough to spot trouble when it walks through my door. Just thought it might be worth mentioning in case you know anything."
"What did you tell him?" I ask, my voice carefully controlled even as rage builds in my chest.
"Nothing useful. Told him Stone River's a private kind of place and folks don't appreciate strangers asking personal questions." Charlie's expression hardens. "But he seemed real interested in your routine, Molly. Asked if you came in here regular-like."
Molly's hand finds mine across the table, her fingers cold and trembling. "Oh God. He found me. He actually found me here."
"We need to go," I say, already signaling for the check. "Now."
I'm helping Molly from the booth when the tavern door bursts open with enough force to rattle the windows, and every instinct I've honed through years of combat kicks into high gear.
