Page 6 of Spooking the Mountain Man
"But what if?"
"It's not him," I repeat, more firmly this time. "And even if it was, he'd have to go through me to get to you. That's not happening."
Kelly searches my face, and whatever she sees there seems to calm her down a little. Her shoulders relax under my hands, and she takes a shaky breath.
"You promise?"
The question is so soft, so trusting, that it makes my heart clench. "I promise, sweetheart. No one's going to hurt you while I'm here."
The endearment slips out before I can stop it, and Kelly's eyes widen. But she doesn't pull away from my touch, doesn't tell me I'm overstepping. Instead, she steps closer, close enough that I can smell her shampoo and feel the warmth radiating from her skin.
"Thank you," she whispers.
We stand there in her bedroom doorway for a long moment, me in just my boxer shorts and her in that oversized t-shirt, and I know I should step back. Put some distance between us before I do something we'll both regret.
Instead, I find myself reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Kelly's breath catches, and her lips part slightly, and for one insane moment I think about what it would feel like to kiss her.
Then reality crashes back in, and I drop my hand.
"Go back to bed," I say, my voice rougher than it should be. "I'll take care of the pumpkin."
Kelly nods, but she doesn't move. "Callum?"
"Yeah?"
"Will you... could you maybe check the locks? And stay close until I fall asleep? I know it's silly, but—"
"It's not silly." I'm already moving toward the stairs before she can finish the request. "I'll check everything and stay nearby. You're safe."
I do a thorough check of all the doors and windows downstairs, then grab the old wooden chair from the hallway and position it outside Kelly's room. It's not comfortable, but I can hear if she needs anything, and my presence seems to calm her down.
Through her partially open door, I can hear her settling back into bed, the soft sounds of someone trying to fall asleep. Eventually, her breathing evens out, and I know she's finally resting.
But I stay in that chair all night, watching over her, because Kelly Thornton asked me to stay close, to protect her, to be the strong presence she needs.
And I'm no longer sure I have the willpower to keep my hands to myself for the next three weeks.
three
Kelly
Iwakeuptothe sound of someone moving around downstairs. For a moment, I'm disoriented – then I remember. Callum stayed to watch over me last night after the pumpkin incident.
When I pad downstairs in my pajamas and bare feet, I find him in the kitchen, already dressed for the day in work boots and a flannel shirt. He's standing at the counter with a cup of coffee, and there are dark circles under his eyes that suggest he didn't get much sleep.
"Morning," I say, suddenly self-conscious about my messy hair and the fact that I'm not wearing a bra under my sleep shirt.
Callum's eyes do a quick sweep of my body before he looks away, his jaw tightening. "Morning. Coffee's fresh."
"Thank you." I pour myself a cup and add cream. "Did you sleep okay? That chair in the hallway can't be comfortable."
"It was fine."
Of course he says that. Callum would probably say he was fine if he was bleeding out on the side of the road.
"I checked the porch this morning," he continues. "No sign of whoever left the pumpkin. Probably just kids like I said."
I nod, taking a sip of coffee. In the bright light of morning, last night's scare seems almost silly. But the memory of Callum's hands on my shoulders, the way he called me "sweetheart," makes my skin warm in a way that has nothing to do with embarrassment.
