Page 12 of My Mountain Man Stalker
“Youshouldn’ttrust me.”
“But I do.”
That undoes me.
Just—undoesme.
I turn away before she can see the look on my face.
“I’ve got things to check outside,” I mutter.
“You always have things to check outside.”
Better than standing here and breathing her in like she’s oxygen I don’t deserve.
Better than thinking about her bare legs under my shirt, or the way her mouth curves when she’s challenging me.
Better than wanting.
Wanting leads to ruin.
I grab the rifle by the door and head out, into the woods, into the cold.
Every part of me wants to protect her. Not just with guns and traps and threats—but witheverythingI have. My body. My name. My fucking soul.
But I know what men like me do to women like her.
We ruin them.
So I’ll keep building walls. I’ll keep the promise I made to the man who gave me my second chance. I’ll keep her alive, even if it kills me.
Especially if it kills me.
Because she’s not just some mission anymore.
She’s the only thing in this broken, bloody world that feels like it’s still worth saving.
6
Wren
There’s something about watching a man sharpen a knife that shouldn’t be sexy.
But it is.
Especially when it’shim.
Hale sits at the table, hunched over the blade like it’s a ritual. His hands are steady, precise—like he’s done this a thousand times. The muscles in his forearms flex as he pulls the blade across the whetstone, slow and focused. No wasted movement. No nervous energy. Just control.
God, he hasso much control.
I lean in the doorway, arms crossed, trying not to stare too hard. I’ve been trying not to stare for days now, and it’s not working.
Not even a little.
He’s older. Maybe late thirties, early forties. I don’t know the exact number and it doesn’t matter. He carries it like a weapon—quiet, grounded, sharp-edged. He moves like someone who’s used to surviving, andmakingothers survive. Everything he does feels deliberate. Intentional.
Protective.
