Page 14 of Moody Mountain Man
I pull her against me, hand heavy on her hip. “You’re mine.”
Her eyes glitter. “Yours. Always.”
And I know she means it.
Chapter seven
Annie
The first thing I notice when I wake is the quiet. It’s not the absence of noise—there’s the low hum of the refrigerators, the creak of the old building settling, the faint tick of the wall clock. But inside me, in the places that usually spin and scatter and scheme, there’s stillness.
And the reason is sitting less than five feet away on a stool in my bakery kitchen, drinking coffee from one of my mugs like he’s been doing it his whole life.
He’s rumpled, hair a mess, shirt hanging open over his chest, eyes dark and watchful as he stares into his cup. He looks dangerous and safe at the same time. Like the man who wrecked me last night and the man who might steady me forever.
My thighs ache. My lips are swollen. My whole body hums with the memory of him inside me, rough and relentless, making me feel wanted in a way I’ve never felt before.
I should be flustered. Embarrassed. Planning a quick escape into business-as-usual. But all I feel is this soft, overwhelming warmth that I don’t know how to hold.
“You’re staring,” he says without looking up.
“You’re drinking out of my favorite mug,” I shoot back, pushing off the counter I’d curled up on. My bare feet are cold against the tile.
He lifts the mug like a toast. “Guess it’s mine now.”
I shake my head, trying to laugh, but it catches somewhere in my throat. “You okay?”
He sets the mug down and meets my eyes. “Yeah. You?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
But the air between us is fragile. Not awkward, exactly. More like standing on a frozen lake, listening for cracks.
I step closer, arms crossed, needing to ask the thing that’s been lodged in my chest since last summer. “Why did you pull away? After we kissed the first time.”
His jaw tightens. He looks down, thumb running over the curve of the mug handle. “Annie—”
“No.” I shake my head, heart thudding. “Don’t deflect. You kissed me back. I felt it. Then you disappeared. For months. Like I’d imagined the whole thing.”
His silence stretches long enough that I want to scream. Finally, he exhales hard. “Because I thought you deserved better.”
The words hit like a stone, but not in the way I expected.
“Better than what?” I ask softly. “Better than you?”
He stands, restless, pacing the narrow stretch of floor. His hands rake through his hair. He looks bigger in this space, shoulders filling the dim light. “Better than a man who walked away from his entire life because he couldn’t stand to look at the pieces anymore. Better than someone who quit the firehouse after the last call gutted him so bad he couldn’t breathe without remembering.”
My chest aches. I knew he carried something heavy, but I’ve never heard him put words to it.
“Cal—”
He cuts me off with a sharp shake of his head. “I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t talk. Every time someone looked at me, I felt like they saw a coward. And then you—” He stops, turns, eyes blazing. “You with your smile and your muffins and your damn stubborn sweetness. You made me feel like maybe I could breathe again. I hated it, Annie, because I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trustmenot to ruin you.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “So you left me wondering if I’d imagined everything instead?”
His face twists. “I thought it was kinder.”
“Kinder?” My voice cracks. “Do you know how many nights I replayed that kiss? Wondering if I’d made it up? Wondering if I was pathetic for wanting more?”
