Page 21 of The Mountain Man's Christmas Bride
But the walk means fresh air. Freedom. No Scott, no pressure, just me.
But Rhett is always there. I know he’s not far; it races up my spine, a tingle of anticipation and awareness. But he keeps his distance.
And some twisted part of me loves it.
But I walk, even as the sky darkens. I pause for a moment to look up at the sky, barely registering the rumble of a truck as it comes to idle beside me.
“Get in,” a gruff, no-nonsense voice tells me. I glance over at Rhett sharply and my brows furrow.
“It’s not snowing.”
The look on his face tells me not to argue, and after a long moment, he moves, like he’s going to get out and drag me into the truck himself.
I huff, stalking towards the passenger door and throw it open. Before I can settle in, Rhett leans over me and grabs the seatbelt. Our mouths are a breath apart; if he leans in even an inch, our lips will touch.
Holding my breath, I wait for it, but it doesn’t happen. Rhett pulls the seatbelt over my body without a word, his knuckles a light touch against my chest, before clicking me in.
“There,” he grumbles, settling back into his seat. The engine purrs as he pulls away from the pavement, just as the sky opens up and snow starts piling on the road. “You sure you wanted to walk in this?”
“It wasn’t snowing when I left.” Which I’d been dutifully checking...until this morning.
Rhett chuckles and shakes his head. He runs a hand over his beard, silent for a while until he asks, “Has he bothered you?”
I shudder, shaking my head. “I think punching him scared him off for good.”
“Good.” The word is clipped, and he doesn’t speak again until we turn down my street.
My hand twitches towards his, almost on its own, like it knows this might be the very last time.
But he’s still here, a weak voice reminds me. He didn’t abandon me. He didn’t leave. He’s still here, and despite me pushing him away, he keeps coming back.
I know why, deep down, but it doesn’t seem fair.
Rhett pulls up to the duplex and kills the engine. Despite the snow, I gasp at what’s waiting for me in the driveway. “What?—”
The mountain man beside me sighs and sits back. “You need something more reliable.”
“You...” I glance at him, and the heartbreak is clear in his eyes. He bought me a car. Not just a car, a truck. Something to get me down the harsher roads here in Willow Ridge, something that’ll survive the winter storms. “Why?”
Rhett stares at me like it’s obvious. Like I should already know the answer to that question and shouldn’t even be asking it.
I pushed him away. Cut him off. Hid from him for days because I couldn’t face him after what Scott said—what he’d done.
And yet…
Rhett grabs something from the back of the truck and hands it to me. “What is this?” I ask, taking the long tub, heart pounding. “Rhett, I don’t?—”
“Open it. They’re blueprints.”
I swallow hard, the lump in my throat heavy as I take the lid off and slide the print out. As I unroll the large piece of paper, I frown. “What exactly am I looking at?”
I’m not dumb. I’ve seen blueprints before. I know exactly what I’m staring at. But these…these are something else.
“Plans,” he says, voice hoarse. “A dream, really.”
I shake my head and look away from the paper. “This is a house.” It’s not a question.
“A house for you,” he replies. His hands tremble as he reaches between us and takes one side of the print, pulling it between us. “I drew it.”
