Page 7 of Mountain Man's Holiday Home
“I don’t want to go back,” I said. “Not yet. Maybe we could grab lunch.”
It was eleven—the start of the lunch hour in my book, so not that unusual. I wasn’t starving or anything. I just wanted to spend more time with this guy.
“That lunch date we talked about?” he asked. “You ready to call that in?”
“I think you originally invited me for coffee,” I said. “But you’re leaving town Monday.” I shrugged. “It looks like this is our only chance.”
“There’s only one restaurant in Wildwood Valley,” he said.
Was it my imagination, or was there a new huskiness to his voice? Like he was thinking about our conversation from earlier about my lack of sexual experience.
“My buddies and I are staying in a cluster of cabins on Reindeer Lane.” He laughed. “I know the name sounds festive, but trust me, there’s nothing Christmassy about them—just basic bachelor pads in the woods. They’re all working today, which explains why I got lucky enough to help you. That’s one of the reasons I was more than happy to help out your brother when he needed it.”
I was almost afraid to admit how much I hoped I was at least one of the other reasons. Yeah, I was definitely letting myself get too attached to this guy, which meant I was setting myself up for some serious heartbreak if I didn’t get a handle on things.
“I make a mean ham and cheese sandwich,” he said. “That’s what I was planning to do for lunch while everyone was working., but Luca had other plans for me.”
Hendrix made a left turn instead of a right at the main road. Right would have taken us down the mountain. Left took us toward adventure.
“A ham and cheese sandwich sounds amazing,” I said.
And it did, but right now, food was the last thing I was thinking about. The idea of being alone with Hendrix had me feeling warm inside. Would he kiss me? Would he do more?
The higher we climbed into the mountains, the warmer I got, my heart pounding as my breath came shorter. I hadn’t missed the physical stuff with all my friends—I’d sometimes had FOMO over my friends making out with guys. But suddenly, I got it. I’d definitely been missing out.
“Crap,” Hendrix said. The word pulled me out of my thoughts.
I followed his gaze up the winding drive in front of us. A beat-up blue pickup truck sat parked next to a rustic log cabin.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“That’s Gunnar’s truck.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “My buddy. It’s his cabin. He’s just letting me bunk here for the weekend.”
My heart sank a little. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” He pulled into the drive anyway, parking behind the other truck. “I thought he’d be working all day, but…” He shrugged. “So much for that plan.”
I stared at the cabin, disappointment settling heavy in my chest. After all that anticipation, we were going to end up at the crowded diner after all.
“We could still go to the restaurant,” he said, though he didn’t sound enthusiastic about it either.
“Right.” I turned to face him, studying his profile. “Or…”
“Or what?”
“We could find somewhere else. Somewhere warm where we could be alone.”
The words came out braver than I felt, and I saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel.
“Lainey.” His voice was rough. “What are you suggesting?”
“I don’t know. You know this area as well as I do these days. Any ideas?”
He was quiet for a long moment, staring out at the mountains rising around us. Finally, he shifted the truck into reverse.
“Actually, yeah. I might know a place.”
We drove in charged silence, the tension between us thickening with every mile. He took us down a narrow road I’d never been on before, past overgrown fields and abandoned homesteads. The mountains here felt wilder, more remote.
