Page 9 of Her Mountain Man Protector
But maybe just a few more hours…
The clock on the wall says it’s nearly eleven. I tell myself I’ll leave at three. It will give me a little more time to prepare myself for seeing my parents again…a little more time with Holden. But I don’t just want to sit around for four hours; I want to pay this man back for all the kindness he’s shown me. I owe him so much, and as I look around the room, an idea forms in my mind.
“Can I help you unpack?” I ask as Holden reenters the room.
He raises a bushy eyebrow. “Unpack?”
I nod. “There are a lot of boxes to get through. I figured you could use some help.”
Holden considers me, crossing his arms as he says, “You don’t need to do that, Mila.”
My name sounds like heaven on his lips, the two syllables making me shiver. He’s looking down at me, piercing me with those deep blue eyes, and I suck in a shaky breath.
“I want to,” I tell him. “It will be fun.” He grunts, unconvinced, so I continue. “I know you said this place doesn’t feel like home yet. But maybe unpacking will help. You must have some photos you can put up?”
Holden looks at me for a moment longer before he nods reluctantly. “Guess you’re right. I was planning to start today…hell, I’ve been putting it off long enough. But you’re sure you want to help?”
“Positive.” I get up from my chair, following Holden toward a stack of boxes in the corner. He lifts the top two down from the pile, holding out the lighter one to me. We’re standing too close, our bodies almost touching as I take the box from him. Our eyes meet, the air thickening with tension as a beat of silence passes between us. Then another. For a crazy moment, I think he might kiss me. His eyes flit down to my mouth, and my heart thuds almost painfully as I force myself to take a step back.
You’re leaving in a few hours,I think.Don’t make this any harder than it already is.
“Well,” I say a little too brightly, focusing my gaze on a point just behind Holden’s shoulder, “let’s get started!”
6
HOLDEN
Milaand I start in the living room, tearing open cardboard boxes full of my stuff. I try to focus on unpacking, but I keep looking over at Mila, watching the way she gently handles my things like she’s scared to break them.
God, she’s adorable.
Her hair is loose this morning, tumbling past her shoulders in a thick wave of chestnut brown, her curvy body still wrapped up in my shirt from last night. She’s so engrossed in her task that she doesn’t notice me staring, and I feel a familiar throbbing in my boxers as I look at her.
I want her. So fucking badly.
There’s no point pretending I don’t. I spent all night tossing and turning, struggling to ignore the hard bulge between my legs. The pent-up desire is driving me crazy. My whole body is on edge, and all I can think about is Mila—touching her, kissing her, claiming her. I remind myself that she’s too young, too innocent, too vulnerable. Hell, she just ran away from her own damn wedding. The last thing she needs to deal with is my feelings. But no matter how much I try to reason with myself, I know my self-control is hanging by a thread right now.
“Cute photos,” Mila says, pulling me from my thoughts as she sets some framed pictures down on the mantel. “Is this your daughter?”
“Yeah, that’s Isabelle at her graduation.” I gesture to the next photo. “And that one’s from when we went to see the Denver Broncos play.”
“Cool.” Mila smiles as she reaches into a box and pulls out a stack of books. “You like to read?”
“Sure. Non-fiction, mostly. History, politics, things like that.”
She nods, inspecting the spines. “I like to read, too.”
“What kind of books?”
“Romance…and horror.”
I suppress a chuckle. “Damn. Those are two pretty different genres.”
“What can I say? I’m a sucker for Stephen King. I have all his books hidden in my closet.” Her eyes twinkle at me conspiratorially before she heads for the empty bookcase on the other side of the room and slots my books inside. For a second, I wonder why a woman in her twenties would need to hide her books. But the thought dissolves when I catch her gaze, my thumping heart pushing everything else from my mind but those big green eyes.
I’m not usually the kind of guy who invites people over. But having Mila here feels so right. She makes the whole cabin feel warm and sunny. So much more like home. I love how interested she seems in my stuff, asking about all my pictures and books and decorations. With anybody else, I’d be irritated, craving privacy. But not with Mila. Her energy is infectious, and I help her unpack more books, watching her from the corner of my eye.
“Oh!” she exclaims as she sets another box on the table, opening it up carefully. “You like to garden?”
