Page 3 of Autumn Feud With The Mountain Man (Ozark Mountain Men Falling For Love #1)

Thatcher

There she was again.

This time she was at the curb waiting for me. She had a slightly vicious tilt to her lips and a tiny smirk on her face that no one would notice but me. She was standing next to the trash can with her arms crossed just under her ample breasts.

She was wearing a navy power suit with a crisp white shirt, her hair perfectly coiffed and wicked-tall heels on her feet. The last part was probably to make up for the fact that she was so short.

My cock activated at the sight of her.

That was how I liked them. Short, chubby and feisty.

And she fit the bill perfectly.

But she hates me.

I had to remind myself of that every time I saw her. Just because I had a visceral reaction every time she got near me, didn’t mean she was my destiny. The woman had hated me on sight.

Plus, she was one of those fancy types.

Cool. Calm. Collected. Clipped.

In charge. In control. I bet her entire life was scripted out, and something told me it didn’t involve a date with my cock. So I told it to chill out and stop acting so affected by the sharp flash of her eyes.

They narrowed slightly when she spotted my truck coming down the road.

I hopped out at my first stop. Then got back in the truck and inched it forward, stopping at the next business, and the next.

Then I was at the bookstore, just two doors down from the law firm. Her eyes never left me, tracking my movements the entire way.

I hopped back in my truck, inched forward another ten feet to the bakery. Hopped out, got the trash and threw it in the back of the dump truck.

Why was my heart galloping in my chest?

Her stop was next, and I was about to come face to face with the vixen who had dominated my dreams lately. How many dreams had I had of this woman? Too many to count.

Just last night she’d slammed my bedroom door open, shouting curses at me before pushing me back on the bed, yanking down my pajama bottoms and wrapping those wicked lips of hers around my cock. It had been the only thing to shut her up, my cock stuffed in her mouth.

What a dream .

I’d woken up right as I came. Which was insane. I hadn’t had a wet dream in twenty years until she came along.

My jaw set tight as I hopped in the truck and inched forward until I was right in front of the law firm.

Hopping out, I ambled slowly to the can, pretending to be unaffected by her wicked charms.

“Well, howdy, ma’am. Are you the welcome committee today? You know, funny thing, my boss said you never called. Are you sure you don’t want his number?”

She narrowed her eyes at me, a vicious tilt to her lips.

“Don’t fuck with me, Thatcher.”

I grinned. “So you know who I am.”

Then she said something that made my blood run cold.

“Your business operation is inefficient. I called Moody and Sons. They operate down south in Loblolly. I pitched them an idea, and they gave me a quote that would reduce trash costs to the residents of Deer Springs by twenty-five percent.”

I stumbled over my words. “You’re fucking with me because you forgot to take the trash out?”

She leaned forward and tilted her chin up, close enough now that I could smell the sweet fragrance of her perfume. It was something strong and fancy, a scent I’d never smelled before.

When our eyes locked, she said, “Thatcher Woods. I’m not fucking with you.

I’m owning you. From now on, you pick up the trash here at Stillson Law every week like clockwork.

If I forget to bring it to the curb, you haul your sweet ass to the front door and come get it yourself. Do we have an understanding?”

No one had ever called me a smart man. That’s probably why I ran trash for a living. And I’d never backed down from a fight.

The reckless side of me didn’t have any common sense. So I drawled, “You sure you want to own me? I might be too much for you to handle.”

“I can handle anything you throw at me, Thatcher.”

She practically dared me to take it a step further. So I did. Oops.

Stepping in close, I rumbled, “I tell you what, hon. I’ll let you own me as long as you remember to suck my cock like a good little girl whenever I come inside to pick up your trash. We’ll call it a personalized pickup fee payable at the time of service.”

A delicate flush landed on her cheeks. It was the first sign of humanity I’d seen in her.

Then her posture stiffened, and I could tell she was on high alert, everything in her screaming fight or flight. And this one didn’t know how to flee. Which meant we were in for one hell of a fight.

My dick rose, getting confused about what this situation meant. I knew she was more likely to go for my jugular than accept a date from me. Especially after what I’d just said.

But she’d shaken me more than I was letting on.

Did she really call Moody and Sons?

They weren’t competition per se, but they were the closest thing to it. We both operated in our own regions, never venturing far from home. But Moody had too many sons, and I knew they were itching to expand.

When my brothers, Hudson and Buck, hadn’t followed our dad into the family business, it had left the entire operation on my shoulders.

And Moody and I had already had one skirmish over the little town of Juniper.

It was on the far southern edge of my territory, just north of theirs.

They’d tried to swoop in and undercut me by ten percent.

A few families and businesses had switched, but they’d come back to me when Moody and Sons failed to offer pickup on snow days and holidays.

What did she mean my operations are inefficient?

Twenty-five percent was bad. If Moody really thought he could undercut me that much and still be profitable I was in for a beating. My customers were loyal, and they liked me. But how long would they support a local boy in the face of such a reduction to their bill?

But I didn’t get the chance to ask her what she’d meant.

She glanced down at my chest, her lips parting lightly, and I got the faintest hint that something about me intimidated her.

She might be a badass lawyer who could destroy men’s lives on a whim, but on some level, I was affecting her. And I got the feeling she wasn’t used to that.

My cock jumped at the realization. There was a spark of heat flashing between us that had nothing to do with the ridiculous spat we found ourselves in. She wanted to land on my cock and ride me hard. I was suddenly certain of it. Everything happening between us was like a twisted foreplay.

Maybe this is how they do it in New York City.

But then she recovered herself. She met my eyes and spat out, “You’re a foul man, Thatcher Woods. And you better watch yourself. I can put you out of business. I’ve done it to bigger men than you.”

Something about her words made me believe everything she said was true.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

I’d just kicked the hornet’s nest.