Page 5 of Mountain Man's Holiday Home
After another moment of indecision, she nodded. “You’re right. Let me just tell one of the part-timers that I’ll be back in an hour.” She jogged over to one of the teenagers, said something that made him nod, then jogged back to me. “Okay, let’s do this.”
I held the passenger door open for her, catching a whiff of something warm and sweet—vanilla maybe, or brown sugar—as she climbed up into the cab. My truck was big enough that she had to use the running board, and I tried not to notice the way her jeans hugged her ass as she settled into the seat.
“So,” I said as I climbed behind the wheel, “tell me about Mrs. Doyle.”
Lainey buckled her seatbelt and took another sip of her coffee. “Oh, where do I even start?” She turned slightly in herseat to face me. “Mrs. Doyle is…well, she’s an artist. A sculptor, mainly. And she’s absolutely obsessed with Christmas.”
“How obsessed are we talking?”
“Like, she starts decorating in October. She has at least four Christmas trees in her house at any given time during the season, plus outdoor decorations that would make Clark Griswold jealous.” Lainey’s voice was warm with affection. “She’s completely free-spirited and independent and just…fearless, you know? She does whatever makes her happy without caring what anyone else thinks.”
I glanced over at her, noting the wistful tone in her voice. “Sounds like you admire that about her.”
“I do.” She stared out the window at the mountain scenery flying past. “I think about what I want to be like when I’m her age, and that’s it. Free-spirited. Independent. Just living life on my own terms.”
“But?” I could hear the ‘but’ in her voice.
She laughed, a self-deprecating sound. “But I don’t think I’m actually built that way. I mean, I love the idea of it, but deep down? I think I’m more traditional than I want to admit. I’ll probably end up finding Mr. Right, settling down, having a bunch of kids and at least two dogs. The whole suburban dream.”
“What’s wrong with that?” The question came out before I could stop it. “Sounds pretty perfect to me, actually.”
She turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. “Really?”
“Really. I mean, the free-spirit thing is great and all, but there’s something to be said for building a life with someone. Having a family.” I felt heat creep up my neck. We barely knew each other, and here I was talking about wanting kids. “I’ve always figured I’d want at least three kids. Maybe just one dog, though. Dogs are a lot of work.”
“Three kids?” She was smiling now, and something in my chest loosened at the sight of it. “That’s very specific.”
“What can I say? I like big families. What about you? How many kids are we talking when you find Mr. Right?”
“I don’t know. Three sounds good, actually. Maybe four if the first three are easy.” She was quiet for a moment. “It’s funny talking about this stuff. I don’t usually…”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Think about it this much, I guess. Or talk about it with anyone.” She fidgeted with her coffee cup. “I’ve been so focused on my career and my friendships that dating kind of took a backseat. But now I’m starting to worry that time’s running out.”
I nearly choked on my own coffee. “Running out? How old are you?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Twenty-three.” I shook my head, grinning. “Jesus, Lainey. You’ve got plenty of time.”
“Do I, though? I mean, I have basically zero experience with any of this. Dating, relationships...” She trailed off, her cheeks turning pink.
Something in her tone made me look at her closer. The flush in her cheeks, the way she wasn’t quite meeting my eyes…
“Zero experience,” I repeated slowly.
“Pretty much.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I mean, I’ve been kissed. A few times. But never anything more than that.”
My hands tightened on the steering wheel as the implication hit me. “Are you saying you’re…?”
“A virgin? Yeah.”
She said it so matter-of-factly that I nearly drove the truck off the road. “Shit.”
I jerked the wheel, correcting our course as my brain tried to process this information. Lainey Rossi was a virgin. Beautiful, smart, funny Lainey who made my pulse race just by brushing her thumb against mine was completely inexperienced.
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not exactly the kind of information you share with someone you barely know.”
