Page 7 of Her Mountain Man Protector
“Wow.” Mila stares at me wide-eyed, her gaze full of warmth. “That’s amazing, Holden. It sounds like she lucked out, landing with you.”
I shrug, keeping my expression neutral, but the way she’s looking at me is making my heart thud. “Don’t know about that,” I say. “We didn’t have much when she was younger. But I did my best to be there for her…give her a good childhood.”
“That’s all that matters,” Mila says. “Kids don’t need a big house or fancy birthday presents. They need parents who love them.” There’s a hint of sadness in her voice, her eyes downcast as she takes another bite of her sandwich. She quickly changes the subject and asks, “So, you’re a firefighter?”
“Used to be, a long time ago. I’m a mechanic these days.”
A strand of hair falls across her face as she nods, and I fight the urge to tuck it behind her ear. She opens her mouth, presumably to ask me something else, but I cut in first. I’m tired of talking about myself when Mila is still such a mystery.
“What about you?” I ask. “You work around here?”
“No. I live with my parents in New York, near the Hamptons. We only came out here for the…” she tapers off, clearly not wanting to mention the wedding. The silence drags for a beat too long, then she bites her lip and says, “Sorry, I’m so tired I can’t think straight. Is it okay if I go to bed?”
“Sure. Don’t need to ask.”
I’m desperate to hear more about her life, her family, but I don’t push it. Instead, I guide her to the guestroom—a cozy little bedroom right next to mine. I make up the bed with fresh sheets, refusing Mila’s help. For reasons I can’t explain, I don’t want her to have to lift a finger. I want to take care of her. Protect her. She looks so damn sweet, so innocent wearing my giant t-shirt, looking at me with those big green eyes. I don’t know everything she’s been through, but something tells me she’s running from more than just her wedding, and I’m determined to keep her safe.
“Thank you, Holden,” she says softly once the bed is made. “I really don’t know how to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be cold and hungry, hiding in your shed.”
It’s a thought that makes me flinch. I can’t stand thinking of her all alone out there, hiding in the dark. But she’s under my roof now, which means this beautiful angel is under my protection. I won’t let anything bad happen while she’s with me.
“Don’t mention it,” I tell her, brushing off her thanks. I don’t need her to thank me. Hell, looking after her feels like a privilege. “Sleep well, okay?”
She smiles up at me warmly, and I feel my blood thrum hot and fast through my veins. We’re all alone in the guest bedroom, just the two of us out in this remote cabin. It’s pretty damn hard to ignore the possibilities. My cock stirs as I imagine falling into bed with Mila, tearing off that t-shirt and running my hands over her soft, luscious curves…
Fuck, I need to get out of here.
These thoughts are driving me crazy.
“Goodnight, Mila,” I say quickly, swallowing hard as I turn around and head for the door.
“Goodnight, Holden…and thank you again.”
I close the door behind me without looking back, determined to stay in control. But knowing Mila is going to be sleeping in the room just next to mine is almost too much to handle. When I get into my own bed a few minutes later, I stare up at the ceiling and listen, straining my ears to hear every creak of springs, every movement from the adjoining room. And I know for damn sure I won’t get a wink of sleep tonight.
5
MILA
I wakeup late the next morning with a lurch of unease, the room swimming around me. It takes me a second to remember where I am. Anxiety tightens my throat as I convince myself I must be back in my room at the castle, about to marry Julian Kingsley. But as I rub my eyes and sit up, it all comes back to me. I’m in Holden’s cabin. I’m safe.
With a sigh of relief, I push myself out of bed, catching the scent of bacon drifting toward me. Holden must be cooking breakfast. I smile to myself, eager to see him again, and I freshen up quickly in the bathroom before I head for the door. That’s when I spot a stack of clothing on the chair in the corner—shorts and t-shirts all in my size. There’s also some brand-new items: a toothbrush still in the packet, shower gel, socks, and a six-pack of plain white underwear.
Did Holden get all this for me?
Feeling bemused, I pull on a fresh pair of underwear and some denim shorts. There are plenty of clean t-shirts to choose from, but I don’t want to take Holden’s off just yet. It still smells like him, that raw masculine scent that makes my heart stutter, and I tuck the extra fabric into my shorts.
Once I’m dressed, I pad into the hallway and head toward the sound of cupboards opening. There I find Holden setting a couple of plates on the wooden countertop, flipping bacon with his free hand. He’s wearing a white t-shirt beneath an unbuttoned plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up in a way that shows off his tattooed forearms. A pair of blue jeans hugs his muscular legs, and my eyes linger a beat too long on his firm ass before I finally announce my presence.
“Good morning!”
Holden glances over his shoulder at me. He looks insanely huge in this rustic kitchen, towering over the stove like a giant, and my pulse jumps when his eyes meet mine.
“Morning.” He nods at me. “Those shorts fit you okay?”
“Perfectly. Thank you so much! Where did you get all those clothes?”
“Texted my daughter this morning. She had to come pick up her truck, so I asked her to bring some of her clothes.”
