Page 4 of Romancing the Mountain Man
She glances around like she could will more food into existence. “How bad could it be? We’ve had storms in Texas before.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Just because you’re from Texas, doesn’t mean you’re not a long way from home. Weather in the mountains hits harder, lasts longer, and destroys things you wouldn’t expect it to.”
She looks nervous but still tries to act like she’s got it together.
“Maybe I should just pack up and go home now.”
“You won’t make it,” I say. “Roads are shut already. You’d get stuck halfway down the mountain with half a tank of gas and bare necessities.”
Her shoulders drop, and she bites her lip, and all I can think about is biting her damn lip, too.
Jesus, Luke. Get a hold of yourself.
But the way she’s looking at me and around the cabin, I know her nerves are kicking in. She’s in an unknown area, and I’m scaring her with my words.
“I’m fine,” she said, brushing hair from her face. “I’ll just layer up and ration my snacks.”
“You’re not fine.”
I walk back out to my truck and begin bringing in the items I grabbed from my own stash. I knew she wouldn’t leave her place, feeling secure here even though she was the furthest thing from it. Don’t get me wrong, these cabins are sturdy, but she wouldn’t be prepared for the fear that could wash over her at hearing the downpour and wind.
I walk back in again as she watches me put down water jugs, a kettle, some canned food, and a backup radio. She watches me, arms crossed, but she doesn't stop me.
“We need one more thing. Get dressed and meet me at the side of the cabin.”
Chapter 4
Luke
Quinn stomps out of the cabin and onto the porch wearing leggings, a raincoat that definitely isn’t hers, and oversized rain boots.
“Jesus,” I mutter as she stands on the porch with her hands on her hips. “You’re gonna break your neck.”
“I’m fine. These are all I could find in the closet,” she says, waving me off. “I’m perfectly capable of carrying wood. I used to help my dad build bonfires in the backyard all the time.”
“Backyard bonfires and enough wood to survive a mountain storm aren’t the same thing.”
She gives me a look loaded with attitude, and it makes my dick jump. This woman is full of sass. “Thanks for the mansplaining, but I’m still more than capable.”
I shrug, grabbing two cords of wood like they weigh nothing. “Suit yourself. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She marches over to the woodpile, and I hear her mumble something about being with amountain man maniac.She grabs a small log, then another, stacking them all wrong in her arms.
“This isn’t Lincoln Logs. You don’t crisscross them. Lay them all in one direction.” She rolls her eyes at me and grabs another log, placing it opposite the others. I can’t help myself and pick on her once more. “You might want to balance those.”
“Iambalancing them.”
“No, you’re juggling them. And not very well.”
Her whole body sways with the attitude she tries to throw at me. “I swear to God, Luke, if you say one more—ah!”
The top log wiggles around, and when she tries to catch it, the bottom one slips out. She tries to save the entire pile, but her extra-large boots don't move freely with her. She stumbles backwards and lands flat on her ass in a pile of rain-soaked leaves.
I freeze. Then burst out in laughter. It’s loud, obnoxious, and even startles me when it hits my ears.
“Oh,real mature,” Quinn snaps, struggling to stand in those ridiculous boots, brushing the wet leaves from her ass. “Glad my wet ass is your favorite comedy special.”
I raise my brows, trying to control the laughter. “You should’ve seen your face.”
