Page 40 of Mountain Grump
The pool flies free of her grip.
I step on the gas.
Tilda rushes after the pool, her long hair whipping around her head.
I have to take my eyes off her as I make the turn into the parking lot.
When I look back, she’s got a hold of the pool again and has almost reached her truck.
I leave an empty parking spot between our trucks, but she doesn’t seem to notice me pulling up beside her.
Shoving my shifter into park, I push open my door at the same time she presses the pool to the side of her truck, trapping it between the vehicle and her body.
I slam my door shut, and the noise finally catches her attention.
Tilda turns her head to look over her shoulder, but the wind today is relentless, and it blows her hair over her face, obstructing her view.
She tries to reach up to brush it away, but the pool starts to shift, so she puts her hand back down.
I cross the few feet between us and stop beside her. “Need help?”
Tilda tries to toss her hair out of the way, but it doesn’t work. “Ethan?”
There’s a tone to her voice that I can’t quite nail down.
Relieved? Hopeful?
“Yeah, Starlight.” Moving slowly, I reach up and slide my thumb along her jaw, catching a handful of her wild hair. Her eyes snap to mine as I tug her hair, just a little, while I hold it back.
Her light brown eyes stare up at me.
She’s so fucking pretty.
My fingers tighten in her hair, and her lips part.
Christ.
Focus, fucker.
I tip my head toward the pool in her hands. “Fancy a swim?”
She rolls those pretty eyes. “Yeah. I love rolling around in eight inches of water.”
I press my lips together, stopping myself from saying something I shouldn’t, and clear my throat. “What’s it for, then?”
She huffs. “None of your business.”
I was expecting her to say she was going to turn it into a garden. Or some sort of fairy pond. But her evasiveness…
I arch my neck to look through the back window, trying to see what else she bought.
“What are you doing?” She shifts, trying to block my view. Which is cute, since she’s a solid foot shorter than my six foot three.
“What was in the bag?”
“What bag?”
I lower my gaze back to hers. “The bag you carried out before you went back in for this damn pool.”
