Page 5 of Spooking the Mountain Man
"What?"
She clears her throat and speaks louder. "I said I like rules. Structure. Someone else making decisions sometimes." Her cheeks are pink now, like she's embarrassed by the admission."Derek... he didn't give me rules. He just criticized everything I did and made me feel stupid for wanting guidance."
My hands tighten on the wooden spoon I'm using to stir the pasta. "He sounds like a piece of crap."
"He was." Kelly's voice is small. "But he was also right about some things. I am naive. I do make poor decisions. Maybe I do need someone to—"
"Stop." The word comes out rougher than I intended, and Kelly flinches. I take a breath and try again. "Kelly, look at me."
She does, reluctantly, and I can see the self-doubt written all over her face. It makes me want to find this Derek guy and show him what happens to men who tear down innocent women.
"You left," I say. "You recognized a bad situation and you got out. That doesn't sound naive to me."
"It took me six months."
"It took you as long as it took. The important thing is you did it." I turn off the heat under the pasta water and face her fully. "And for the record, wanting structure isn't something to be ashamed of. Some people need more guidance than others. That doesn't make them weak."
Kelly's eyes widen slightly, and I realize I've said too much. Revealed too much about how I see her, about what I want to give her.
“Do you think that's okay?" she asks, and there's something hopeful in her voice that makes my chest tight.
"I think," I say carefully, "that knowing what you need is the first step to getting it."
We stare at each other across the kitchen, and the air between us feels charged with possibility. I can see the moment Kelly realizes what we're really talking about – not just structure and guidance, but the kind of relationship where she could surrender control to someone who would cherish that gift and not abuse it.
Someone like me.
The timer for the pasta goes off, breaking the spell, and Kelly turns back to the stove with flushed cheeks.
"Dinner's ready," she says, and her voice is a little breathless.
We eat at the kitchen table, making small talk about Tyler's job and the weather and anything that doesn't touch on the loaded conversation we just had. But I can feel Kelly watching me when she thinks I'm not looking, and every time our eyes meet across the table, that same electric awareness sparks between us.
After dinner, Kelly insists on cleaning up, and I don't argue. I need space to think, to remind myself why this is a bad idea. But when I'm settling into bed an hour later, I can hear her moving around in her room – the creak of floorboards, the sound of drawers opening and closing, the soft rustle of fabric that might be her changing into pajamas.
The walls in this house are definitely too thin.
I'm just drifting off to sleep when Kelly's scream cuts through the quiet night like a knife.
I'm out of bed and down the hall before I'm fully awake, not bothering with a shirt or shoes. Kelly's bedroom door is open, and she's standing in the doorway in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, staring down the stairs at something on the front porch.
"What is it?" I ask, moving to stand behind her.
"Look," she whispers, pointing.
There's a carved pumpkin sitting on the top step of the front porch, illuminated by the porch light. It's not particularly well done – the face is crooked and the mouth is more goofy thanscary – but there are fake plastic spiders crawling out of the top, and in the dark, it's definitely startling.
"Probably just kids," I say, but Kelly is shaking.
"It wasn't there when we ate dinner. I would have seen it."
She's right. We would have noticed a jack-o'-lantern sitting on the front steps. Which means someone put it there sometime in the last few hours, while we were in our bedrooms.
Kelly wraps her arms around herself. "What if it's him? What if Derek followed me here?"
The fear in her voice makes something protective and primal rise up in my chest. I put my hands on her shoulders, turning her to face me.
"Hey. Look at me." When she does, I can see tears gathering in her eyes. "It's not him. It's just some teenagers playing pranks. It's almost Halloween – this stuff happens every year in small towns."
