Page 5 of Cider Kissed By the Mountain Man
“Are you paying attention?” His voice cut through my wandering thoughts.
Was I paying attention? To the ladder, no. But to his jawline? His forearms? The way he looked like a paper towel commercial that had been emotionally compromised? I could give myself a gold star.
“What? Yes. Absolutely. Ladder safety is very important.”
He studied my face with those sharp dark eyes, and I tried to look like I hadn’t just been checking out his arms like a teenager.
“Prove it,” he said, holding out the ladder to me. “Show me proper ladder setup.”
Pooh-bear.I’d been so busy being distracted that I’d missed half of what he’d said. There were plenty of ways I’d imagined dying. Falling off a ladder under the judgmental eye of a man I was half-crushing on wasn’t one of them.
But I was a teacher—improvisation was one of my core skills.
I took the ladder with what I hoped looked like confidence, positioning it against the tree and giving it a shake to test stability. “You know, my students aren’t going to be climbing ladders. They’ll pick from the low branches. Or better yet, take the apples that have already fallen to the ground.”
“And what if they want one from the very top of the tree? We both know you’d try and get it for them.”
I sighed. How could he know that about me? We’d just met. I repositioned the ladder.
“That’s the wrong angle,” Trent said immediately, walking up behind me. “That’s too steep. You want it to fall over and crush someone?”
“No, of course not—”
“Try again.” He covered my hands with his and eased the ladder back, I had to move in order not to place it on my toes. That forced me right up against his hard body. I hid my smile at the muttered curse he gave and deliberately wiggled my butt. Just a little.
He stepped back quickly and crossed his arms, that dark frown of his firmly in place. “Now climb up three rungs and show me how you’d reach for an apple.”
Three rungs. I could handle three rungs.
I made it to the second rung just fine. The third one was where disaster struck.
My foot slipped—because of course it did—and suddenly I was falling backward, my hands glued to the ladder as it tilted from the tree. I knew I wasn’t that far off the ground, but it felt like I was falling forever.
Then strong hands caught me around the waist, yanking me against a solid chest and pushing the ladder away from us.
“Damn it,” Trent’s voice was rough against my ear, his arms like steel bands around me. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? How could you fall from the third rung of a ladder?”
He sounded pissed, but his hands were still on me like he hadn’t decided to let go. And I kind of didn’t want him to.
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Not because of the fall, but because of the way he was holding me—tight and protective, like he couldn’t bear the thought of me getting hurt. His chest was rising and falling rapidly against my back, and I could feel tension radiating through his entire body.
“Sorry,” I managed. “I told you I was graceful as a drunk giraffe.”
“This isn’t funny.” His grip tightened. “You could have been seriously hurt.”
There was something in his voice, something raw and almost panicked, that made my heart skip. I turned in his arms, and suddenly we were face to face, his dark eyes searching mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.
“Then you shouldn’t have had me climbing ladders,” I retorted because I was pretty shaken up. Not by the near fall, but by him. What was happening to me? I had never felt this instant attract to anyone before. My love life was barely non-existent but Trent…
This wasn’t flirting. Was it? Maybe. Probably. God, whatwasthis? I could feel his warm breath, and I was dangerously close to testing the theory of what a cider kiss tasted like.
His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin. “I might not always be there to catch you.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to be more careful.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth and knew, just knew, he was about to kiss me.
Then his phone buzzed, and he stepped back so fast I stumbled.
