Page 8 of Her Mountain Man Protector
“That was kind.” I feel a rush of affection for Holden’s daughter. It’s so nice to have some real clothes to wear after spending all of yesterday in that dress. “What about all the new stuff, though? The toothbrush and underwear…”
Holden is quiet as he turns back to the stove. “Yeah, well, figured you might need a few extra things, so I took a trip down to Cherry Hollow.”
He says it reluctantly, like he doesn’t want to take the credit. This man really seems to hate being thanked or acknowledged for his kindness, and yet I already have so much to thank him for. He drove all the way into town before I’d even woken up to buy me new socks, and just like last night, I’m hit by the all-encompassing desire to throw my arms around him. It’s like an ache in my chest that won’t go away.
“Thank you, Holden.” I want to say so much more, but I keep it brief so he doesn’t have to suffer through the praise he seems to hate so much. “I’ll pay you back for all of it as soon as I can.”
Holden grumbles, “You don’t need to pay me anything.” As I start to protest, he raises a hand. “Not going to argue with you about it. I’m not taking your money, Mila.” His voice is firm, but there’s a softness in his deep blue eyes that makes me melt. “Now let’s go eat some breakfast.”
I beam at him as he plates up the food. He’s cooked a lot: bacon, eggs, sausages, hash browns, buttered toast, and a jug of orange juice. My stomach growls as we sit down at the table, the late morning light streaming in through the windows. Outside, the forest is a bright, vivid green, the trees swaying like dancers. It’s beautiful. So quiet. All I can hear is the gentle breeze, the twitter of birdsong.
“Hope this is all okay,” Holden says as we tuck into our breakfast. “Figured you’d be hungry after only eating that sandwich yesterday, so I made a lot.”
“It’s delicious!” Everything is hot, fresh, and tastes amazing. “I’m always hungry in the mornings. There’s no such thing as too much breakfast.”
Holden’s lip quirks into a barely there smile. “I’m with you on that one.”
As we eat, my eyes drift to the boxes I noticed yesterday, taped up and lining the walls.
“So, where did you move here from?” I ask curiously, taking a sip of orange juice. “You said you just moved in, right?”
“Yeah. Came here from Denver. Lived there for twenty years, but Cherry Hollow is my hometown. I grew up here.”
It’s hard to picture this man living in a city. He’s as big and wild as Cherry Mountain itself, a rugged mountain man through and through. I guess the wildness never left him, even after he moved to Denver.
“What brought you back here after all that time?”
Holden frowns. “Long story…”
He quickly recounts how this cabin was bequeathed to him and his childhood friend, Wyatt. He explains what happened when his daughter met Wyatt last month—how they fell in love almost immediately. I hang onto every word.
“So when Isabelle moved out here to live with Wyatt, I figured I’d move back too,” he finishes. “Wanted to be close to her.”
“Wow.” I blink at him, taking it all in. “It must have been…a lot. Seeing your daughter and your best friend get together so fast. Then uprooting your life right afterward.”
Holden grunts. “Sure was. I’m still getting used to it.” He runs a hand over his thick beard, looking thoughtful. “This cabin still doesn’t feel like home. But hell, Isabelle’s happy. As a father, I can’t ask for more than that.”
My chest flutters as I nod. Beneath his grumpy exterior, Holden has a heart of gold, and it’s clear he loves his daughter. He must be a caring father to accept her relationship with his best friend. He’s so unlike my parents, who would cut me off without a second thought if I dated somebody they disapproved of. Heck, after what I did at my wedding, they’ll probably never talk to me again. I swallow down the bittersweet thought, quickly changing the subject.
“Are you going to keep working as a mechanic now that you live out here?” I ask.
“That’s the plan.” Holden’s gaze slides back to mine. “I had my own auto shop back in Denver and sold it when I moved. I’ve already made an offer on an old warehouse in Cherry Hollow that I want to convert into a garage. Still waiting to hear if they’ll accept.”
“That’s so exciting.” I grin at him. It’s easy to picture Holden rooting around beneath the hood of a car, hands slick with oil,brow furrowed in concentration. The mental image sends a burst of heat through me, and I feel my cheeks pinkening beneath his gaze. I look away, busying myself with cutting up a piece of bacon.
“What about you?” Holden asks, his deep voice sending a shiver through me. “What do you do back in New York?”
My cheeks redden even more, this time from embarrassment. How can I tell this hardworking, salt-of-the-earth guy I’ve never worked a day in my life? How would he react if he knew that my parents always refused to let me earn my own money, insisting that working was somehow beneath our family?
“I’m between jobs at the moment,” I say carefully. “I guess I’m still figuring out what I want to do.”
Holden nods without judgment. “You’re young. Got plenty of time to work all that out.”
I smile at him, but I can tell there’s more he wants to ask. He’s obviously curious about my failed wedding and the man I left at the altar yesterday. Heck, I guess it’s not every day a girl in a wedding dress shows up at your house. But I’m eager to avoid talking about Julian Kingsley, so I quickly start asking him about Denver as we finish our breakfast. It feels so natural, sitting here in his cabin, listening to the rumble of his voice as he tells me about his life in the suburbs of the city. But as Holden stops talking and takes our empty plates back into the kitchen, I’m hit by a wave of guilt.
Grace.
I need to get back to my sister. She doesn’t deserve to be worrying about me, dealing with our parents’ anger all by herself. Staying here with Holden is selfish, no matter how much I love being around him.
