Page 6 of The Mountain Man's Sweet Treat
“When you were taking down trees today, did any of them hit you?”
I sputter. “No, course not. I’d remember that. Now, look. Just call her. I didn’t even get her name. But you know her. Call her and tell her to go home.”
“Alright, I’m going to come check on you. We’ll get through this together,” his tone has slipped from annoyed to genuinely concerned.
For the first time since I called, it occurs to me that maybe he didn’t send her my way. “I’m not imagining her. Hold on, I’ll send you a picture of her car parked in front of my place.” I pause and send the photo before getting back onto the call. “I can’t figure out who on earth rented it to her.”
Nate lets out a whistle when he gets the photo. “That’s some weird stuff. Do you think she’s dangerous?”
I think about the woman who barely comes up to my shoulder. She’s not a petite little thing. She’s taller than most women and plus-size by the world’s standards, but she’s tiny compared to my gigantic frame.
I could pick her up and carry her around if I wanted to. The image that fills my head has me choking back a groan. Definitely don’t need to be imagining what it would be like to carry around my annoying-yet-adorable trespasser.
“She’s not dangerous,” I grunt.
“Any chance she bakes?” He asks.
“You’re not getting her,” I snap, unsure of why the idea is making me furious. A man has a right to be protective over his trespasser. He can even think she’s sort of charming when she puts her hands on her hips and tries to act defiant about getting to stay for the month.
“But you want her gone,” Nate points out.
I grunt my agreement. I do. That’s exactly what I want. I want my quiet life back. I don’t want to spend my time watching her wander around my cabin in that tiny little skirt. I don’t want to listen to her sing under her breath as she opens a can of premium cat food in my kitchen like she’s been there all her life.
“So, then show her your charming personality. That will scare her off,” he mutters in the teasing way that only a brother can.
I stop walking then, an idea forming. “Scare her off? That’s perfect! I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later next week.”
“Listen, if you need anything?—”
I don’t let him finish his sentence before I hang up. I don’t need anything more than to get this curvy woman gone from my cabin. Once I do that, everything can go back to normal in my world.
Chapter 4
Sophie
Somewhere along his walk Mr. Grumpy Pants got a personality transplant. It’s the only explanation for the guy that returns.
He still looks the same, but he gives me a smile. Or at least, what I think must pass as a smile from him, which is to say he doesn’t grimace. “I don’t think we started this new roommate situation on the right foot. I’d like to start again.”
I eye him suspiciously from my place on the couch where I’ve taken to scrolling through his streaming services. I looked through his profile. Mainly, he watches sport games and documentaries.
I added my own profile, identifying myself as Roommate. I figured it was politer than logging him out of his account, so I could sign into mine. I added a few of my movies and TV shows to my favorites to get the algorithm populating.
Then I tried to call my mom again, but my phone service isn’t that great right now. It might have something to do with that thick, white fog that’s rolling in.
Tobias is purring against my thigh, quiet and happy without a care in the world. All he knows is that he’s with me, and he’s safe.
“I’m Whiskey, and this—” He gestures toward a big beast of a dog that pushes her way into the cabin. “This is Bella. She’s a Bernese Mountain Dog that adopted me a few months back.”
Several of the actors on the show used to bring their dogs along, and I always loved it. I hold out my hand for her to sniff. Every dog is a good one if you ask me.
She gives me a long sniff before licking my fingers. Her tongue tickles, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes my lips. Animals are so easy to love. They don’t judge us.
Bella gives Tobias a sniff then settles onto the hardwood floor with a soft sigh, like she can’t believe she has guests. She seems just as much of an introvert as her pet parent.
I glance up to find Whiskey staring at me, an expression I can’t quite describe on his face. He’s looking at me like he’s craving something sweet, and I’m the last candy apple at the carnival.
He seems to realize he’s staring and gives his head a shake. “I didn’t get your name earlier.”
