Page 4 of Mountain Man Makeover

Instead of inhaling properly, I launch into one of my concerns. “Do you think you’ll ever move?”

Orion doesn’t answer me right away, taking in a long breath. “I mean, I can’t predict the future.”

“Bullshit. Don’t tiptoe around this.” I jab my finger into his ribs.

“Ow, hey, I’m driving!” He cusses and puts both hands back on the wheel. “Are you asking because I want a suit?”

My arms fold over my chest and I face forward again, no longer filled with the desire to stare at him. “I’m just trying to prepare myself if my best friend leaves me for the city. Do you even like the mountains anymore or is that supposed to change, too?”

Why am I so defensive?We haven’t even gotten to the store.

“I love the mountains. They’ve been my home and my time here has been amazing.” He turns into town. “Look, I don’t know why I need to do this. I just do. And if it goes well and maybe I decide I want to make other changes like moving to the city… well, I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”

I’ll hold my breath then, too. I’ll hold it till I’m blue in the face because that is not a bridge Ieverwant to cross.

At the store, we go through a myriad of styles and colors. I’ve seen more variations of black and navy blue than I thought possible. Despite our discussion in the truck and possible bridges, I provide input on this soul-crushing fashion show. I may not like what he’s trying to do, but I’ll support him through it.

It isn’t until Orion steps out in a charcoal suit that I erupt with enthusiasm. He walks out of the dressing room to stand on a pedestal, me at his back and three mirrors to his front. It’s not only the perfect fit, but the color makes every bit of his coloring pop.

“Wow,” I gasp. I actually stand up to take the vision in.

“Is it okay?” I can hear the doubt in his voice. He tugs on the lapels and tries to stand taller, striking the pose he had in his kitchen.

“More than okay,” I confirm.

I gulp.

Shit, he’s hot. Like scorching. Blistering. Charring.

And now I’m on fire.

I bite my lip and try to collect myself. “Yeah. This is it, Orion. Don’t try on another suit.”

He twists to look over his shoulder at me. His baby blues are wide with surprise. “Really?”

“Definitely. That’s the one.” I make him scoot to the edge of the pedestal, stepping up onto it with him.

He stares down at me, his grin wide and boyish. My heart pitter-patters in an unusually fast rhythm. He wraps an arm around my back and the other gripping my hand, extending it out like we might ballroom dance. He twirls me around and I feel all sorts of dizzy when he sets me back down.

Except it’s my heart that won’t stop spinning.

“This is the one,” I repeat, even though he’s no longer expressing doubt … even though I’m no longer talking about the suit.

Damn it. Why did I agree to this stupid makeover?

“Let’s go home,” I urge. I’m tired of the way he makes my skin feel electric and the way my heart feels both sick and delighted.

Orion, you might be the one, but I’m afraid it’s too late…

ORION

“No, thank you. Next week won’t work. Appreciate checking, Mrs. Gilly.” I hang up.

That’s the fourth hairdresser I’ve called. I typically trim and cut my own hair but I’m changing. The new me. And a real entrepreneur who’s made it gets their hair cut and styled.

Running my hands through my hair and over my beard, I sweep back and forth in thought. Who else do I know that owns a good pair of scissors? I could trim my beard down, but I want those sharp edges, something I can maintain before the reunion.

Who do I know that can shear a sheep within an inch of its life and poof a Pomeranian to perfection?

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