Page 27 of Grumpy on the Mountain

"Timber Tavern has decent steaks," I say way too quickly. "If you want to get out, that is. Tonight."

Her eyes widen in surprise. "Like... dinner?"

"You eat food, don't you?" I ask gruffly. "Just don't expect me to be all... chatty."

A slow smile spreads across her face, transforming it entirely. She looks younger suddenly. Lighter.

"Okay.Okay!But only if you promise not to quiz me on tool identification," she counters.

The corner of my mouth twitches.

"Can't promise that. But I'd settle for you being better at selecting menu items than you are at selecting the correct tools."

She laughs, the sound bright against the winter quiet. "It's a deal."

And just like that, I've done the one thing I swore I wouldn't do by coming down the fucking mountain.

I've created a connection. An obligation. A reason to see her again.

I'm so fucked.

Chapter Seven

Molly

"How about this one?"

I hold up a green sweater that's so wrinkled it looks like it went through a war zone. Which, considering it spent two weeks crammed in my suitcase while I drove aimlessly across three states, isn't far from the truth.

Sienna leans against the doorframe of the guest room, watching with undisguised amusement and absolutely no discretion as I crouch in my lacy black panties, frantically pawing through my suitcase like a raccoon searching for trash.

"Depends," she says thoughtfully. "Are you trying to look like you just rolled out of bed? Because that's a solid choice if so."

I toss the sweater over my shoulder, adding to the growing pile of rejects on the floor.

"Everything I own is either completely inappropriate for mountain life or looks like I've been sleeping in it for weeks."

"Which you have," Sienna points out helpfully. "Been sleeping in it for weeks, I mean."

"Not helping," I mutter, digging deeper.

The frantic sound of cartoon explosions filters down the hallway from Maisie's room, providing a chaotic soundtrack to my fashion crisis.

I don't know why I'm even stressing.

It's just dinner. With Beau.

Beau Callahan, who barely speaks. Who probably asked me out of pity.

"Ooh, what about that?" Sienna points to a deep burgundy sweater I've just unearthed. "It's cute. Low-cut but not desperate. Perfect for a mountain tavern date."

"It's not a date," I insist, examining the sweater critically. "He felt sorry for me after I said that pathetic stuff about being alone."

"Sure," Sienna nods, not even trying to hide her smirk. "And I bet those sexy panties you're wearing are just… what? A coincidence?"

I glance down at my underwear. "These are just regular underwear!"

"Honey, nothing black and lacy is 'just regular.' And you should know, these mountain men are stronger than they look." She waggles her eyebrows suggestively.