Page 10 of Mountain Grump

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And before he can say more, before he can insult me further, I turn and walk to the front door of the house.

My house.

I hurry up the front steps.

My front steps.

I grip the door handle, not reacting when the metal connects with the scrapes on my palm, and I step inside, shutting the door behind me.

Chapter 5

Ethan

Silence settlesaround me as I wait.

But the front door doesn’t open.

Tilda doesn’t appear in a window.

And I have no reason to follow her footsteps. No reason to knock on her door.

But those fucking tears.

I don’t get it.

Was it the cut-up ribbon?

Was it talking about Jack?

And why do I feel sick to my stomach?

I tip my head back and look up at the sky.

Jack, what the fuck were you thinking, leaving your mountain house to a girl like Tilda?

I lower my gaze and shift it to Jack’s old-ass pickup truck and try to picture pretty Tilda driving it.

I try to picture her climbing into it.

Tilda’s notshockingly short. But she’s below average height, whereas Jack was tall and lanky. Meaning he had no use for running boards, so he never installed them.

Tilda’s going to need a fucking step stool to get into the driver’s seat. If she doesn’t, and she wears a dress like the oneshe’s wearing now, the whole damn town is gonna know what her panties look like.

I don’t like that thought.

A breeze blows through the trees, and a few of the suncatchers swing in the wind.

I stand by the fact that this shit is unnecessary.

But… maybe… it’s not as horrible as I first thought it was.

Sighing, I step forward, then crouch down and stick my hand into the murky puddle.

My fingers find what they’re searching for, and I pull the strand of beads out of the muck.

I drape them over the edge of the box holding even more suncatchers and glare down at Tilda’s discarded scissors.

The tool she brandished as a weapon.

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