Page 4 of Big, Bad, Mountain Man

“You’re enough. You know that? Everything you are right now… is enough.”

She glances up toward me, tears still in her vision. “How do you know that? You barely know me.”

I tuck a strand of stray hair behind her ear. “I don’t think a woman who’s crying and worrying about whether she’s enough has the capacity to be less than everything. I’m sorry anyone ever made you feel otherwise.”

She is still in my arms, and I wonder if I’ve said something wrong.

“I hope I didn’t—”

“No.” She shakes her head and stares at the radio dial before glancing up at me again. “Sorry. Thank you. It’s been a while since anyone has said anything that… genuinely to me before.” She speaks in a slow cadence as though she’s trying to formulate a feeling that’s overtaking her.

Whatever it is, I feel it too, and it scares the hell out of me in the best possible way.

I nod and hold her closer, enjoying the soft rise and fall of her chest as she relaxes against me. I guess now would be a good time to bring up the past.

Chapter Three

Bree

Disney movies make love look magical. Boy meets girl, he saves her, they kiss, defeat the evil witch, and live happily ever after. For the last five years, I’ve questioned every word of those fairy tales. For a bit, I stopped watching them with the girls. I’d convinced myself that love was a decision and built on hard work. If I woke up every daychoosingto love Tucker, then everything would fall into place. We made sense together. He had a big career in computer engineering, and I was the executive secretary to his boss. Our minds were focused on money and success. He wore a business suit, and I wore a pencil skirt. Choosing to love a man that was driven made sense to me. We fit together.

It’s funny how one experience can change all that. One single moment with another person can make you feel loved and cared for in ways you never have. Or… I’m a complete psycho who’s jumping to conclusions. I think maybe it’s the latter.

I lean up from Wilder’s chest, immediately feeling the cool air circulate around me. I miss him already.

No.No, I don’t. It’s the warmth I miss. Human touch is nice, especially when it comes in the form of a giant man.

“Anyway,” I straighten my hair, “thanks for the vote of confidence. We should get on with this.”

“Get on with this?” His heavy brows wrinkle. “What does that mean?”

“Our date. Whatever this is, we should move forward. I promise to stop crying any second now.”

He laughs with warmth. “I think this is our date. You need this. You need to relax. What do you usually do for yourself?”

That’s a good question. I don’t remember the last time I did anything for myself. My entire life rotates around the girls and the ice cream shop. “I don’t know.” I purse my lips in confusion as I think through my day. I don’t even make sure to get coffee or take a shower. Most days, I’m rushing out of the house in a frantic disarray. “I think right now, I go and go until I burn out like I did today. Then, I sit around feeling like a failure as a mother, a wife, and a general human being. The guilt usually gets me moving again the following day.”

His eyes widen. “You need someone to take care of you.”

The idea of someone taking care of me is alarming. No one has ever really taken care of me. Tucker would help out with housework, and he’d listen to me from time to time, but I always felt like a burden. His focus was always on something else.

“What do you mean?”

Wilder’s hand reaches out toward mine. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“But it’s dark.”

“I’ve got a flashlight and there’s a clearing a hundred feet ahead that overlooks the ridge. A few deep breaths of that mountain air, and you’ll be seeing straight again in no time.” He grabs a pack from the back of the truck and slides out, rounding to help me down from the passenger side before I have time to help myself.

I’ve never had this kind of treatment before. The kind where a man truly believes you’re special. Opening doors, helping me in and out of trucks, asking questions, caring for my emotions like I matter.

God, that’s pathetic. I was married for five years. I have two small children. I should’ve felt this before. If not, I should’ve held out. I should’ve wanted more for myself and my children. If I had, I wouldn’t be in this mess.Theywouldn’t be in this mess.

I roll my eyes at my own internal dialogue. There’s the guilt again.

I suck in a deep breath and take a step forward, sinking into the grass in front of me. I don’t want to be a pain, but I’m not going to make it very far in these heels.

Thankfully, Wilder noticed. He grabs a pair of boots from the back seat and takes off his flannel before wrapping it around my shoulders. “They’re both going to be huge, but I think you’ll make it further in these than those pretty shoes.”

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