Page 8 of Trouble with the Mountain Man
"And because I care about you. More than I probably should."
The admission hangs between us, honest and vulnerable. My heart pounds as I process what he's just said, what it means, how much I want it to be true.
"More than you should?" I ask.
"You're my client. I'm supposed to keep things professional."
"And if I wasn't your client?"
He steps closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body.
"If you weren't my client, I'd tell you that I think about you constantly. That seeing you smile is the best part of my day. That the idea of Derek taking you away from here makes me want to punch something."
My breath catches. "Flint..."
"I'd tell you that you're the strongest woman I've ever met, and the most beautiful, and that any man who walked away from you is the biggest fool alive."
He's so close now that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. So close that it would be easy to rise on my toes and kiss him, to give in to the attraction that's been building between us for weeks.
"What if I told you I feel the same way?" I whisper.
Something flares in his eyes—heat, hope, hunger. "Do you?"
Instead of answering with words, I close the distance between us, pressing my lips to his.
The kiss starts gentle, tentative, but quickly deepens as he pulls me against his chest. He tastes like coffee and determination, and the careful way he holds me makes my knees weak.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, he rests his forehead against mine.
"I meant what I said. I'm not going anywhere. Whatever it takes to keep you and Ally safe and happy here, I'll do it."
"Even if it means dealing with Derek?"
"Especially if it means dealing with Derek."
The fierce protectiveness in his voice sends warmth spiraling through me. This is what I've been missing, what I didn't even know I was looking for—a partner, a protector, a man who sees my worth and chooses to stand beside me.
"Stay tonight?" I ask quietly. "On the couch, I mean. In case there are more problems."
"Already planning on it."
Of course he was. Because that's who Flint Miller is—the man who shows up, who stays, who fixes what's broken and protects what's precious.
As I head to bed, leaving him settling onto my too-small couch with blankets and a pillow, I'm smiling despite the chaos of the evening. My ceiling might be gone and my pipes might be broken, but somehow everything feels more solid than it has in years.
Because I'm not facing it alone anymore.
six
Flint
Iwaketothesmell of coffee and bacon, and the sound of Ally's laughter from the kitchen. For a moment, I let myself imagine this is normal—waking up in Maple's house, being part of her morning routine, belonging somewhere that matters.
Then reality reasserts itself. I'm sleeping on her couch because of a plumbing emergency, not because I have any right to be here permanently.
"Morning," Maple says when I appear in the doorway. She's managed to rig up a temporary cooking station on the dining room table, electric skillet and coffee maker plugged into the living room outlets. Ally sits beside her, eating cereal and chattering about a school project.
"Hi Mr. Flint!" Ally waves enthusiastically. "Mommy made you breakfast too!"
