Page 9 of Big, Bad, Mountain Man
“Then I’ll be here waiting.”
“Right. You’re going to wait years while I figure myself out.” I turn away, walking down the path we came in on, fighting with myself. I want to turn around and grab him, bury my face in his chest, get lost in his arms, let him whisper all these magnificent words somewhere deep inside of me, but I know it’ll hurt that much more when he leaves. “So, you’re one of those guys that gets high of the chase, right? You’ll chase me forever and once you have me, you’ll bail and chase someone else.”
He laughs and opens the truck door. “You think of everything.”
I bite my bottom lip and let his hand rest on mine, unsure of what to say.
“I can find the wedding details online or I could ask around town. Either way, I’m going to be there.”
“What if I don’t want you to be there? Did you ever think of that?”
A smile lingers on his face. “I’ll ask you again. Do you want me to leave you alone?”
I want to say yes. The word is on the tip of my tongue. I’ve said‘yes’a million times. Hell, I said it a half dozen times today at requests for a popsicle. It’s a simple word. One syllable. One grunt. It’s barely any effort at all… but I’m frozen.
“Okay then.” Wilder smiles. “That’s what I thought.”
Chapter Six
Wilder
“What do you mean you’re going to a wedding with her? You just met.” Kane slides a stool closer to his bike and works a wrench against a lug nut. “You’re moving too fast, man. A family wedding is the worst possible place to get to know someone. She’s going to be anxious as fuck. You know how people get when they’re anxious. Trust me.”
“You?The you who hasn’t dated a woman since Amber left? I think I’m good.”
His jaw tightens as the nut falls to the floor. “She’s mine. It’s just not our time yet. Why would I fuck around with anyone else?”
“So you understand the concept here, right? When you know you know.”
He scoffs. “Amber and I knew each other before I told her how I felt. You’ve known this woman for twenty-four hours. There’s a difference.”
I know what he’s saying. The way I feel about Bree surprises me too. I’ve never been a guy who falls easily.
He stands from the stool and grabs some grease off the counter. “I’m only saying you should take your time. I’m happy for you, but I don’t want you to end up like me.”
“In love?”
He sighs. “Do you know how fucking painful this is? Every day I wake up with her on my mind. I can’t hold her. I can’t see her. Hell, I’m not even allowed to hear her voice anymore.Every fucking day.Some days, I drive by her house hoping I’ll catch a glimpse. Maybe she’ll be out for a walk, and I’ll see her for a second. Other days I know what a fool I am for holding on to something so fucked up.” He groans. “But it’s the days that I see her or hear her voice or get a fraction of a second with her that bring me back to when everything made sense. I’d wish it on you and away from you all at once. Loving someone this way is hard.”
“Fuck, man.” I exhale and rub my hand over my beard. “Go after her. What’s holding you back?”
He laughs. “She’s got a thing going on. Doesn’t matter.” He tosses a wrench in the toolbox and fishes for something else. Metal rubs on metal. “You look good. Go get your girl, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I’ve never heard Kane talk so openly about his emotions. Usually, the guy is a brick house, solidly turned off against everything emotional.
“Thanks for the pep talk,” I laugh. “Lock up when you’re done.” I was going to talk to him about how I should tell Bree about my past, but I’m not sure if my past even matters anymore. For one, it’s the past. Nothing about it affects me in the current day. Second, knowing will only make her worry more and she does enough of that already.
Kane nods and goes back to work as I stare down at the steel-toed boots that don’t at all go with the suit I’m wearing. I guess they’re black. That counts, right?
It’s going to have to. I don’t own anything nicer. The fact that I had a suit hanging in the closet is a miracle, even if it’s more for a funeral service. I bought it when my father died. He always said clothing was the armor in which we battled the world. The man wore blue jeans, black t-shirts, and steel-toed boots every day of his life. His battle with cancer ended shortly after he turned eighty-three.
In the daylight, I see Bree’s cabin is lined with little yellow flowers and a pink garden flag with a kitten tipping over a clay pot. Bree is sitting on the front porch, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. Her hair is tied up in a loose bun. Maybe I’ve gotten the day wrong. This is embarrassing.
I park in front of the porch and hop from the truck, my throat tight as I stare toward her. “I feel like a fool.”
She glances up at me, tears streaming down her face. “Why’s that?”
“You’re crying.” I sit next to her, drawing her frame into mine. “What happened?” I’m not sure I’ll ever understand her, but whatever’s going on, I want to save her from it all.
