Page 3 of Pucked Mountain Man
And he’s limping, barely, but enough that I can’t unsee it.
“Jones,” Thatcher greets, clapping him into a back-thump hug. “You look like shit.”
“Aw thanks, Pookie.” Grady tilts his toward me. “So this is my keeper.”
“If the shoe fits,” Thatcher smirk. “She’s here to help.”
“To babysit,” I correct.
The corner of Grady’s mouth lifts. “You don’t look like my usual babysitters.”
“Because I’m not seventy and named Dolores?”
“Because you’re wearing boots you could kill a man with.” His lips twitch. “And because you’re already backtalking.”
“Oh, no,” Thatcher mutters. “This is going to be a nightmare.”
“Stevie,” I say firmly, sticking out a hand.
He strips off a glove, warm palm swallowing mine. Callused, solid, holding a beat too long. My pulse stutters.
“Grady,” he says, like I haven’t memorized it from every highlight reel. His thumb brushes my knuckles before he lets go. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
My cheeks burn. I mask it with bravado. “Don’t get too excited. I’m here to stop you from doing anything dumb.”
“Define dumb.”
“Carrying a log the size of your ego or challenging a bear to a footrace.”
His mouth kicks again. Unexpectedly witty. Unexpectedly dangerous.
“Noted,” he says.
A voice crackles over the radio giving a wait time for security. That’s our queue.
“Right. Well. Your seats are set,” Thatcher says. “Grady, they have you in the aisle. Stevie, you’re in the window.”
“I can swap?—”
“Keep the window,” Grady cuts in, dark gaze visible under the glasses for one shattering second.
“Right, well. Don’t drive my sister crazy with your whining,” Thatcher says. “And don’t drive him insane with your humming.”
“I don’t mind humming,” Grady says. “Shall we?”
He tilts his glasses down and his dark gaze settles on me. My heart hitches.
Two weeks. How am I going to spend two weeks pretending this isn’t the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.
I nod, words failing me. We grab our bags and start toward the security line.
Thatcher’s voice follows us. “Don’t forget the rules.”
“I won’t,” I say.
Grady echoes it, low and dangerous. “I won’t.”
TWO
