Page 52 of Grumpy on the Mountain

Christ. She's going to think I'm some kind of feral mountain man.

Which, let's face it, isn't entirely inaccurate.

"Ooh, this phone creates the perfect lighting. Look, Beau," she says suddenly, and before I can process what's happening, she's leaning across the center console, phone held high, her vanilla scent hitting me like a freight train.

Click.

She grins at the screen, and I catch a glimpse of the photo over her shoulder. I look like I've been caught stealing something, eyes wide and slightly panicked.

"Oh my God, you look so grumpy!" she laughs, nudging my shoulder with hers. "But like... adorably grumpy. Like a really sexy mountain troll."

"I'm not grumpy," I mutter, which only makes her laugh harder.

"Right. And I'm not completely out of my element up here." She settles back into her seat, still grinning. "This is going to be my first photo on my new phone. Historic moment."

Historic moment.

The way she says it, like this matters. LikeImatter. It does something to my chest that I don't want to examine too closely.

"You don't have to—" I start, then stop. Don't have to what? Document this? Remember it? Want to be here?

Isn't that why I bought her the damn phone?

So I could text her, call her, reach her whenever I wanted?

Because the thought of dropping her off and not hearing from her until tomorrow made my chest feel like someone had shoved a vise around it.

It was the idea of silence stretching between us pushed me into that electronics shop and cost me a small fortune I don't regret spending for a second.

"Never mind," I mutter, turning onto the final stretch of road to my cabin.

"Everything okay?" she asks softly, blinking at me in a way that tells me everything I need to know.

She's thinking about whether I'm regretting this. About whether I'm having second thoughts about letting her come up to my cabin.

Because that's what Molly does.

That's what she's been groomed into doing by my brother. Well, not anymore. Riley might have trained her to doubt herself, but I'll be damned if I let his ghost follow her here.

"Nothing. Just... my place isn't exactly built for company."

"Good thing I'm not exactly company then."

I risk another glance at her, and she's looking at me with those green eyes. Not exactly company. What the hell does that mean?

Focus on the road, Callahan. Don't crash your truck because a woman smiled at you.

The forest opens up ahead, and there it is. My cabin, nestled into the mountainside like it grew there naturally. Two stories of cedar and stone, wraparound deck gleaming in the afternoon sun, the hot tub waiting in the corner like a promise.

I built every inch of it myself. It's the only thing I've created that hasn't been tainted by blood or regret.

And now Molly's going to see it.

Judge it. Judgeme.

"Holy shit," she breathes as I pull into the driveway.

My hands freeze on the steering wheel. "What?"