Page 15 of Trouble with the Mountain Man
He follows me over, his release triggered by the feel of me coming apart beneath him. With a hoarse shout, he buries himself deep and pulses inside me, his entire body shaking with the force of it.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, both breathing hard and covered in a light sheen of sweat. I trace patterns on his chest, marveling at how right this feels, how complete.
"Stay," he murmurs into my hair. "Don't go home tonight."
"I can't. Ally—"
"Is with Jake until tomorrow afternoon. He told me when he picked her up."
The sneaky matchmaker. "You planned this."
"Hoped for it," he corrects, pressing a kiss to my temple. "But only if you wanted it too."
I lift my head to look at him, this man who's become so important to me so quickly. "I wanted it. I want you."
"Good," he says, rolling us over so I'm sprawled across his chest. "Because I'm not nearly done with you yet."
His hands slide down to cup my bottom, and I can feel him hardening again beneath me. The night is young, and we have years of longing to make up for.
eight
Flint
Threeweekslater,thefoundation work is complete, the plumbing replaced, the ceiling restored. Maple's cottage looks better than it has in decades, solid and welcoming and built to last.
I should be moving on to other jobs, other clients. Instead, I'm installing new front steps because the old ones were uneven, planning a stone patio because Ally mentioned wanting a place for tea parties, finding any excuse to keep coming back.
"You know you don't have to keep fixing things," Maple says, bringing me coffee as I level the last step.
"I want to make sure everything's perfect."
"It already is."
She's not talking about the house, and we both know it. Over the past month, we've settled into a rhythm that feels natural, inevitable. I stay for dinner most nights, help Ally with homework, fall asleep in Maple's bed more often than I go home to my empty cabin.
We haven't talked about making it official, but the assumption is there in the way Ally asks me to attend her school play, in the way Maple includes me in weekend plans, in the way I've started thinking of this place as home.
"Derek called this morning," she says, settling on the completed step beside me.
I keep my expression neutral, but tension coils in my shoulders. Derek's threats have escalated over the past weeks—phone calls questioning Maple's fitness as a mother, thinly veiled warnings about the "unsavory characters" she's associating with. Nothing actionable, but enough to keep us both on edge.
"His monthly check-in?"
"He wants to take Ally for two weeks this summer. To Whistler. Says it's time she experienced 'real culture and opportunity.'"
"What did you tell him?"
"That I'd think about it. But Flint..." She looks at me with worry clear in her eyes. "He's building a case. The extended visit, the questions about the house, about you. I think he's planning something."
"Like what?"
"Custody modification. He's been documenting everything—my move to Silver Ridge, the house repairs, our relationship. Making it look like I'm unstable, making poor decisions for Ally."
The fear in her voice makes me want to drive to Vancouver and have a very direct conversation with Derek Morrison. But that would only prove his point about me being an "unsavory character."
"What do you need from me?" I ask instead.
"Just be yourself. Be the man who shows up when things fall apart, who fixes what's broken, who makes us both feel safe.Because that's who you are, Flint. That's who we fell in love with."
