Page 5 of Sugar-Shacked with the Mountain Man
I want to ask more, to understand what drives her relentless pursuit of success, but I can see her shutting down. Instead, I reach for her hand.
"For what it's worth, I think you're pretty remarkable. Building a career, taking care of your mother—that takes strength."
She looks down at our joined hands, her fingers small and soft against my calloused palm. "Some days I feel like I'm drowning in other people's expectations. Including my own."
"What would you do if those expectations disappeared?"
"I honestly don't know. I've been focused on climbing the ladder for so long, I'm not sure I remember what I actually enjoy anymore."
The admission hangs between us, vulnerable and honest. I squeeze her hand gently.
"Maybe being snowed in for a few days will give you time to figure it out."
She looks up at me, something shifting in her expression. "Maybe it will."
The moment stretches between us, full of possibility and the growing awareness that we're walking toward something that could change everything.
"Kane," she says softly. "Earlier, when you said slow..."
"Yeah?"
"How slow are we talking?"
I see the desire flickering in her dark eyes, feel the way her fingers tighten around mine. Every instinct screams at me to close the distance between us, to give in to the attraction that's been building all evening.
Instead, I lean over and press a soft kiss to her forehead.
"Slow enough to be sure," I tell her. "Slow enough that when this storm ends, we don't regret anything."
She nods, but I can see disappointment flicker across her face. "And if I don't want to wait until the storm ends?"
"Then you'll have to convince me that this isn't just proximity and adrenaline talking."
"Challenge accepted," she says, and there's something in her smile that tells me I'm in serious trouble.
As if reading my thoughts, she shifts closer on the couch, close enough that her thigh presses against mine, close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes.
"So," she says, her voice taking on a teasing tone. "Tell me more about maple syrup production. I find myself suddenly very interested in... the process."
I know exactly what she's doing, and God help me, it's working.
three
Sophie
IwakeuponKane's couch to the scent of coffee and something that smells suspiciously like pancakes. Sunlight streams through the sugar shack windows, and for a moment, I'm completely disoriented.
Then I remember. The storm. The attraction. The way Kane kissed me like I was everything he'd ever wanted before pulling back and being frustratingly gentlemanly about the whole thing.
"Morning, princess," Kane calls from the small kitchenette in the corner. "Sleep well?"
I sit up, trying to tame my hair with my fingers. "Like a baby. A very uncomfortable baby on a lumpy couch."
He turns, and I catch him looking at my legs where the flannel shirt has ridden up during the night. There's heat in his eyes before he forces them back to my face.
"Coffee?" he offers, holding up a steaming mug.
"God, yes." I stand, padding over to him in bare feet. When he hands me the mug, our fingers brush, and that same electric jolt shoots through me.
