Page 11 of Mountain Man's Pumpkin Spice
I waved her around the table, gesturing for her to follow me beyond the workbench to a bench I’d planned to use for storage that now sat empty. The two of us sat on opposite ends of it, the space between us humming with tension.
“I’ve always known I was wired a little different,” I said. “When it comes to relationships, I mean. Dating.”
Marissa said nothing. Just sipped her own coffee and waited for me to go on.
“I’ve never done the whole girlfriend thing. Never brought anyone home to meet the family—not that I have much family anyway. But I always figured I’d end up on my own. I even picked this town because it’s tucked out of the way. Quiet. Safe.”
She smiled gently. “Safe from what?”
“From getting close to someone.” I let out a breath. “From getting rejected. From feeling too much and having it ripped away. My parents weren’t exactly role models. And every time I started to fall for someone in the past, I pulled back. Told myself it wouldn’t last. That she’d wake up and realize I wasn’t enough. That I’d mess it up.”
Her eyes softened, and I couldn’t stop now.
“Last night, when you said you were going back to the inn, it hit me harder than it should have. My brain started doing its usual damage. Told me you were pulling away. That you didn’t want me after all. That I’d made more of it than it was.”
“Ashe…”
“I know,” I said quickly. “It was stupid. You had to get up early. That’s it. I see that now. But at the time, I shut down. It felt like every past mistake I’ve made all over again.”
Marissa set her cup on the ground and leaned toward me. “So what you’re telling me is, you like me so much, you panicked.”
My lips twitched. “Basically.”
“Ashe.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I stared at her.
“You’re not?” My voice cracked a little, and I hated how unsure I sounded.
She shook her head. “Nope. But if you ever ghost me like that again, I will kick your butt.”
I barked out a laugh.
“I mean it,” she said, trying to sound stern. “You don’t get to push me away just because your brain tells you lies. You talk to me. You tell me what’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours.”
I reached for her hand, wrapping my fingers around hers. “Deal. But you should know something.”
She arched a brow. “What’s that?”
“I’m all in.”
Marissa blinked.
“I know it’s fast. I know we’ve just met, but I’m done pretending I don’t want this. I do. I want you. I want more mornings like this, more pumpkin spice lattes, more of your sass and your laughter and your way of seeing the world like it’s still good.”
She didn’t say anything. So I kept going.
“You’ve ruined me for being alone. You’ve made it impossible to imagine going back to the way things were. And I don’t want to. I don’t ever want to go back.”
Marissa’s eyes shimmered. She squeezed my hand tight.
“I feel the same way,” she whispered.
Then she leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t the kind of kisses we’d shared during lovemaking—full of hunger and need. This one was like our first kiss—soft, slow, and full of promise.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said as she pulled back. “Let’s close up shop for the day.”
I grinned. “The whole Harvest Market?”
