Page 2 of Pretending with the Mountain Man
I turn, and my breath catches in my throat.
The man entering Bean & Bloom commands attention without effort. Tall with broad shoulders encased in a flannel shirt that does nothing to hide his muscular build. His dark skin contrasts with the silver streaks in his close-cropped hair, and his presence fills the space with quiet authority. He moves with purpose, acknowledging locals with brief nods as he approaches the counter.
"Dad." Sage greets him with a warm smile. "Perfect timing. This is Melody, my college roommate I've told you about." She turns to me. "Mel, this is my father, Malik Harris."
Malik's dark eyes find mine, intense and assessing in a way that makes my skin tingle. "Melody." He extends a hand across the counter. "Welcome to Crimson Hollow."
I take his offered hand, and an unexpected jolt races up my arm at the contact. His palm is warm, calloused, his grip firm but gentle.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Harris," I manage, finding my voice. "Thank you for letting me use your cabin. It's incredibly generous."
"Malik, please." His voice is deep, resonant. "And it's no trouble. The cabin sits empty most nights. Might as well be useful."
He studies me with an intensity that should be uncomfortable but somehow isn't. I feel evaluated, assessed, but not judged. It's an odd sensation.
"Coffee, Dad?" Sage asks, already reaching for a mug.
"Please." He settles onto a stool at the counter, one seat away from mine, close enough for conversation but maintaining a respectful distance. "Black."
"Always black," Sage teases, rolling her eyes before sliding him a steaming mug. "One day I'll convert you to something with actual flavor."
"Coffee is meant to be coffee," he replies with the air of a long-standing debate. "Not dessert."
His eyes return to me. "Sage mentioned you're starting at the high school. English literature?"
"Yes." I wrap my hands around my mug, anchoring myself. "Taking over Mrs. Holloway's senior classes for the rest of the year."
"Brave woman," he comments with a hint of a smile. "Those seniors can smell fresh blood."
"I'll manage," I reply, straightening my spine. "I did my student teaching in downtown Toronto. Crimson Hollow teens don't scare me."
"Don't underestimate small town kids," he says, taking a sip of his coffee. "They have fewer distractions and more time to devise trouble."
"Speaking from experience, Malik?" The question slips out before I can stop it, more familiar than I intended.
Something flickers in his eyes, surprise, perhaps, at my boldness. "My experience spans many contexts," he answers carefully. "Including teenage troublemaking many years ago."
"Dad was apparently quite the rebel before military service straightened him out," Sage supplies, wiping down the counter. "Or so Grandma claims."
"Your grandmother exaggerates," Malik says dryly, though affection warms his tone. "And that was a lifetime ago."
I study him surreptitiously over my coffee. He doesn't look like a former rebel. He radiates control, discipline, a commanding presence that makes it hard to imagine him ever being wild or reckless. Yet something in the set of his jaw suggests a man accustomed to getting his way.
He's nothing like the boys my age I've dated. Nothing like Jason with his polished corporate veneer hiding manipulative cruelty. Malik Harris feels... authentic. Solid. Dangerous in an entirely different way.
"The cabin should be ready by tonight," he says, redirecting the conversation. "Security system updated, basic supplies stocked. I assume Sage is giving you the tour of town first?"
"That's the plan," Sage confirms. "Show her the school, introduce her around, then get her settled."
"Good." He finishes his coffee in one long swallow and stands. "I have business at Club Crimson. Melody, the cabin access codes will be texted to your phone. If you need anything, Sage has my number."
"Thank you again," I say, meeting his gaze directly. "I won't be imposing for long. Just until I find my own place."
Something unreadable crosses his expression. "Take your time. The cabin is yours for as long as you need it."
With a nod to Sage and a last lingering look at me, he turns and leaves, his broad back and confident stride drawing my eyes until the door closes behind him.
"So that's your dad," I say, trying to sound casual as I turn back to Sage.
