Page 5 of Big, Bad, Mountain Man
My heart crushes, swells, and melts all at once. Maybe he’s too good to be true. He’s probably taking me up here to murder me. He’s the one and only murderer of Rugged Mountain. I’ll bet he’s gotten away with this for years. That or he has a room full of women’s underwear back at his cabin. He probably sniffs them while he jerks off.Fucking creep.
His giant hand lands on the small of my back and we walk forward through the trees and toward the field. It’s dark enough that I can’t see much around me, but I could be walking through an alligator infested swamp, and I couldn’t be happier than I am right now.
“I used to come out here when I was young. Kane and I would drop rocks off the ledge to see how far they’d go. Then, occasionally, we’d pretend like we were going to throw each other off. It was pretty stupid looking back. One small misstep and we’d have been dead. Did you and your sister get into trouble like that?”
“I guess if you call lemonade stands trouble. We were pretty simple kids.”
He smiles. “I could see that being trouble. Did you have competing stands?”
“Oh no. This was a one stand job. We sold pink and yellow, then split the profits. She took care of the books while I took care of the people… kind of like the ice cream shop.”
“You two grew up in the Springs, right?”
I step out onto the slate stone that makes up the edge of the ridge and stare up at the stars. Millions of twinkling lights shine like promises of something greater. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. “Yeah. I needed a change of pace, though, and the ice cream shop had always been my dream.” I keep my gaze focused on the stars. “I can’t believe I haven’t come out to appreciate this view yet. The girls would love it.”
He pulls a blanket from his bag, resting it on the ground for me before helping me down.
“Do you keep a bag with stargazing gear ready to go?” I land my hand in his and sit on the blanket with him.
He laughs. “No. I keep this handy for hunting.”
“Hunting?”Okay, this is where it falls apart. “What do you hunt?”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”
“No.” I glance toward him in the pale light. “It’s notbad. It’s just…different.I don’t know how people do it.”
“I do it to survive. I only eat wild game, mostly venison. Though, I’ve gotten a lot of duck lately.”
My entire life I’ve opposed the killing of animals for any reason. And though I’m not fully vegetarian, I’ve tried multiple times, and gotten myself to the point where I only eat chicken. Though killing anything sounds grotesque and unnecessary, listening to this big, rough, manly man talk about hunting his dinner has my heart racing like a thirteen-year-old girl at a boy band concert.
I attribute this again to my psychosis. Or at the very least, the rush of hormones running through me. I’m a sick woman and I need help.
Wilder continues, “It’s better than factory farming and I hunt with a bow and never a gun.”
The thought of him stalking through the woods, and pulling back on a bow, sends another rush through me. A man who can provide. A man who can protect. A man who can—
Oh my god! Am I a cave woman?
I shake my head and pick up a rock from the ground, focusing my attention on its sharp edges by poking my finger with each turn. I’m losing my mind. I’m officially losing my ever-loving mind.
I glance toward the giant. “I appreciate all this, but I should probably let you know that tonight has been a wake-up call for me. I’m clearly a mess and this evening should only be a one-night thing.”
He nods and stills for a second before slowly wrapping his arm around me. “Then I guess we better make the most of it.”
Why is life like this?
Why does everything happen at the wrong time?
If I’m being honest with myself, I shouldn’t have come outat alltonight. And when I started crying, I should’ve gone home. I’m not ready for this. Partly because I know how emotionally wrecked I am, and partly because I’m a hormonally charged manic who hasn’t had sex in what feels like an eternity. And a big, strong man touching me, caring for me, and holding me in the warm moonlight makes me want to do things I shouldn’t want to do so quickly.
I want to know what he feels like, how he moves, what his deep voice sounds like in my ear as he’s thumping against me.
I ignore every bit of rationale screaming at me and turn toward Wilder. Without a word I lean in toward him like a mosquito drawn to the light.
His hand wanders up my back and grips the back of my neck gently. His eyes are on mine as though his ancestral DNA is waking up, too.
“Are you okay with making the most of this?” he groans, his gaze never leaving mine.
