Page 19 of Whiskey Kisses For the Mountain Man
"See? Christmas treats aren't so bad."
"The coffee and cookies aren't the problem," I mutter.
She tilts her head. "Then what is?"
"Nothing." I close the folder in front of me, glancing at my watch. It's nearly six, and the winter darkness has already settled outside my office window. "We've covered enough for today."
"But we still have to discuss the treats for the children and the tree lighting ceremony," she protests. "And I need your input on the non-alcoholic options for?—"
"It's getting late," I cut her off. "How were you planning to get back up the mountain?"
She blinks, clearly not having thought about it. "I suppose I'll call a ride."
"As it’s getting dark? Up those mountain roads?" I shake my head. "Not happening."
"I've been managing just fine," she insists.
"You don't have a car of your own?"
She shakes her head. "I moved here from Portland. Didn't bring my car yet. I've been using the local rideshare service."
Something about the thought of her being driven up those treacherous roads in the dark by some stranger makes my chest tighten. "I'll drive you."
Her head snaps up. "That's not necessary."
"It is." I stand, grabbing my jacket from the back of my chair. "We're neighbors. It's on my way."
"Are you sure?" she asks, those big brown eyes studying me.
"I wouldn't offer if I wasn't." I gesture toward the door. "Besides, we can continue working at your cabin. I'm still planning to help with those lights like I promised."
Her whole face brightens. "Really? That would be perfect! I have so much more I want to go over with you."
I'm already regretting the offer, but there's something about the way she looks at me, like I've just given her the greatest gift, that makes it impossible to take back.
We're halfway to my truck when Nash intercepts us, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Owen, just the man I was looking for."
"Not now, Nash," I warn.
He ignores me, turning his attention to Lettie. "You must be the Christmas Queen I've been hearing so much about. I'm Nash Hunter."
"Lettie Donovan," she says, shaking his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure's all mine," Nash says, still grinning. "I was just telling Ivy last night how Owen here hasn't stopped complaining about?—"
"We need to go," I interrupt, placing a hand on Lettie's lower back to guide her past him.
Nash raises an eyebrow at the gesture but steps aside. "Don't let me keep you. I'm sure you two have lots to discuss."
I resist the urge to punch him in his smug face and lead Lettie to my truck.
"Sorry about that," I mutter once we're inside. "Nash likes to stir up trouble."
"He seems nice," she says, buckling her seatbelt. "Are all the Eden Ridge men as handsome as you two?"
The casual compliment catches me off guard. I focus on starting the truck instead of responding.
The headlights cut through the darkness as we wind up the mountain road. Lettie chatters away about festival details, seemingly unbothered by the steep drops just feet from the edge of the road.
