Page 9 of A Baby for the Mountain Man

“Not completely.” I push away from the bar.

“Where are you going?”

“To spread a little of my cheer to your friend.”

Striding across the room, I pause when I reach Sophie’s side. I hold out my hand. “Come on.”

She frowns. “Come on and what?”

“Let me show you how to throw an ax.”

She blinks at me. “You want to throw an ax?”

“I want to show you how to throw an ax.”

Eyeing me warily, she sets her drink down. Taking her hand in mine, I cut past the people who are already too drunk for their own good to get through the front of the line. A few people call out greetings, and I grunt in response.

Sophie laughs. “You’re not really one for social interaction are you? Spontaneous or planned.”

My lips twitch. “No, I don’t suppose I am.”

“Then what is this?”

I cock my head to the side. “Call it an experiment.”

Then, taking one of her hands, I spin her so she’s standing in front of me. I place the ax in her hand and hold it in my grip. I rest the other on her hip. It’s impossible to ignore the way she trembles at my touch.

I don’t know what it is about Sophie, but I want to know more of her. Not just her touch. But everything she’s thinking.

That’s dangerous territory. Maybe even more dangerous than throwing axes at a bar.

FIVE

SOPHIE

The next night, unshed tears burn the backs of my eyes as I watch Winter and Slate glide over the dance floor. If anyone in this world deserves to dance away into happily ever after, it’s Winter.

Cliff silently slides into his sister’s empty chair next to me. Ever since the long car ride yesterday, I haven’t been able to think straight.

Everywhere I look, I think about him. Remember the spark that flowed through me when our arms brushed.

Furiously blinking my eyes, I straighten in my seat. “They look so happy.”

He nods and casually rests his arm across the back of my chair. It’s not exactly like he’s wrapped his arm around my shoulders. My spine still tingles at the closeness of his almost touch.

“What do you say?”

I cast him a sidelong glance. “About what?”

“Want to get out there?”

My eyes grow wide. “You want to dance?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then why—”

“You look like you’d like to dance.” He trails a finger lightly over my shoulder then. It’s like a dart straight to my belly. “And I wouldn’t mind dancing with you.”

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