Page 6 of Mountain Man's Winter Wonder
“So?” he prompted gently. “How does a woman like you end up single?”
I looked down at our joined hands, his so much larger than mine, calloused from work but impossibly gentle. “I don’t have much experience with men.”
“Define ‘not much.’”
I felt my face burn. “Any, really.”
His thumb stilled on my palm. “Any?”
“My parents are very traditional. Very strict.” The words tumbled out in a rush. “I’ve been working at their restaurant since I was twelve. Weekends, summers, every spare minute.While other kids were going to dances or hanging out with friends, I was learning inventory and prepping vegetables.”
Buck’s jaw tightened. “That’s not right, Sheraton. You were just a kid.”
“They needed me. The restaurant was struggling, and they said family comes first. Always.” I pulled my hand free to fidget with my napkin. “I missed homecoming, prom, football games. I never had time for friends, let alone boys.”
“What about college?”
“Community college, part-time, between shifts. I lived at home the whole time.” I laughed, but it sounded hollow even to me. “I graduated with an associate’s degree and went right back to the restaurant. Sometimes I think they planned it that way.”
Buck was quiet for a long moment, studying my face. “And now?”
“Now I’m twenty-six years old, and this—” I gestured between us, “—having dinner with you, is the most rebellious thing I’ve ever done. How pathetic is that?”
“It’s not pathetic.” His voice was fierce. “It’s a crime.”
I met his eyes, seeing anger there—not at me, but for me. “I used to tell myself it would be worth it someday. That when I took over the restaurant, I’d have time for a life. But I’m starting to realize that day will never come. There will always be another crisis, another reason I can’t put myself first.”
“So don’t go back.”
The simple words hung between us like a dare.
“I can’t just?—”
“Why not?” He leaned forward again, his knee bumping mine under the table. Neither of us moved away. “You’re not responsible for your parents’ dreams, Sheraton. You’re allowed to have your own.”
Something was shifting inside me, some long-buried part of myself stirring to life. The contact of his knee against mine,the heat in his eyes, the way he said my name like it meant something—it all made me feel reckless.
“Maybe you’re right,” I said softly. “Maybe it’s time I stopped living for everyone else.”
“What do you want?” His voice was low, hypnotic.
I looked at him—this beautiful, patient man who saw something in me worth pursuing—and made a decision that would have terrified me twelve hours ago.
“I want you to be my first.”
The words escaped before I could call them back, bold and breathless and completely unlike me. Buck went very still, his eyes darkening to almost black.
“Sheraton, are you sure?”
I nodded, my heart hammering against my ribs. “I’ve spent my whole life playing it safe, doing what was expected. I don’t want to be safe anymore.”
For a moment, he just stared at me. Then he slid out of his side of the booth.
“Come here,” he said, his voice rough with want.
My legs felt unsteady as I stood and walked around to his side of the table. The Christmas lights strung above us cast everything in a warm, golden glow, and “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” started playing through the speakers like the universe was orchestrating this moment.
Buck’s hands found my waist as I slid into the booth beside him, and suddenly we were so close I could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.
