Page 12 of Merry'd to the Mountain Man
As Cole moves toward the dining table, his face is composed and calm, but his lips are still a little parted, like he’s as dazed as I am.
I turn back to the oven, pretending to check the roast. But all I can think about is that kiss.
The one that wasn’t supposed to mean anything, and yet somehow managed to mean everything.
CHAPTER 10
Cole
Dinner wraps up earlier than expected—mostly because Marnie decided to drink her meal instead of eat it. By the time the roast comes out of the oven, she’s already halfway to slurring carols and telling me I have “kind eyes for a lumberjack.”
Ryan cuts the evening short with a forced laugh and a grimace, steering her toward the stairs. “Think it’s time we called it a night.”
“Oh, um,” I say, trying to hide my panic. Looking from Ryan to Frankie and back again. “You’re staying?”
“Of course they are.” Frankie playfully nudges me. “You can’t expect them to drive home in this snow.”
Actually I could.
Ryan has to practically carry Marnie up the steps as she starts singing another round of Jingle Bells.
Frankie’s cheeks are pink, but her eyes are bright when I look back at her.
“I, uh, moved my things out of the guest room earlier. Figured they might try to stay the night.”
I smile at her. “Smart thinking.”
She grins. “You’re not the only one who can plan ahead.”
We spend the next hour cleaning up the kitchen, and it’s torture. The kind that sneaks up on you in small spaces and warm light. Every time I turn, she’s there—brushing past me at the sink, bumping shoulders as we reach for the same dish towel, her scent filling my nose. It’s taking superhuman strength to keep my hard dick from embarssing myself by making its presence known to the beauty standing next to me.
I tell myself to focus on the plates, the leftovers, anything but the way she smells—like cinnamon, vanilla and something I can’t name that’s slowly driving me insane.
When the last dish is stacked and the lights are dimmed, the silence between us feels thick enough to choke on.
“Guess we survived round one,” she says softly.
“Yeah,” I manage. “Barely.”
We stand there for a beat too long, the air humming. Then she yawns and stretches, oblivious to the way my gaze zeroes in on the way her sweater lifts and shows a strip of soft bare skin. “I’m exhausted. See you upstairs?”
“Yeah,” I say again, voice rougher than I intend.
As she walks past me, her shoulder grazes my arm. Just a touch. But it burns all the way down to my fingertips.
I watch her climb the stairs, that soft sway of her hips tempting me with every step, and all I can think is how completely she consumes me without even trying.
I blow out a breath. “At least I’ll have the floor,” I mutter. “A little space between us, and maybe I’ll actually sleep tonight.”
So much for getting that much-needed space.
Frankie insisted we were adults and that it was ridiculous for me to sleep on the floor. I tried to argue. She won. Although I can’t say I put up too much of a fight.
Which is why I’m now flat on my back in my own bed, staring at the ceiling, while she’s a few inches away—close enough that I can hear every breath, every soft rustle of the sheets.
I don’t move. I don’t dare.
If I reach out, my hand would find her hip. Her hair. Her warmth.
