Page 2 of Her Mountain Man Giant (Crave County: Mountain Men Love Curves #5)

TANNER

It’s a cool summer evening, the heat from this afternoon seeping away as I trek through the forest, eyes peeled for a juniper tree. Saturday’s storm ripped up a fence on my property, and I need a solid chunk of wood to fix it. Happens a lot up here this time of year—storm damage.

Damn monsoon season.

The juniper trees grow in a cluster at the very edge of my land, about a mile from my cabin.

It should be a short walk, but my knee is flaring up, throbbing painfully with every step.

I grit my teeth and push through. Juniper’s worth the time it takes to find.

It’s ugly wood—gnarled and twisted—but it doesn’t rot like the rest.

When I finally reach the patch of junipers, I choose the sturdiest-looking one and lower my axe to the trunk, marking a groove so I know where to aim the blade.

Then I plant my feet and swing my arm back, slamming my axe into the knotted bark.

Once. Twice. I build up a steady rhythm before adjusting my position, moving to the other side of the tree.

But as I raise my axe once more, my weight shifts forward and my knee locks into place.

Shit.

I let out a grunt of frustration. It’s been eighteen years since the accident, but my body won’t let me forget. The pain is a constant reminder—impossible to escape—and I let my axe drop to the ground as I rub a hand over my stiff joint, trying to ease the tension.

The forest seems impossibly quiet now that I’ve stopped chopping. All the birds have fled the noise, and even the trees themselves seem to hold their breath. Then I hear something. The crinkle of a page turning. A deep inhale. Somebody is out here, hidden among the junipers.

Goddammit.

I feel a surge of annoyance as I shake off the stiffness in my knee, forcing myself to move toward the noise. This is my land. These trees are on my property. Nobody should be out here.

Maybe it’s somebody looking for me?

My brain latches onto the thought before I can stop it. I know there are people who still talk about what happened; I’ve seen the theories online, obscure forums and blog posts with titles like Where is Tanner Greene now? It’s not impossible that somebody could have found me, followed me out here.

But after all this time, would anybody really go that far?

Instinctively, I clench my fists, steeling myself as I round the juniper tree.

My heart jumps. A young woman stands shrouded by branches like she’s trying to hide, her head bowed as she scribbles something in her notebook.

She’s so absorbed that she doesn’t even notice me, and all I can do is stare, taking her in.

Holy shit.

She’s beautiful. I rake my gaze over her thick curves, my pulse quickening at the way she fills out her shorts and t-shirt.

Her hair is a warm golden brown, shining like molten caramel in the evening light.

It falls in waves over the swell of her breasts, down to her wide hips, and I have to stifle a groan.

I force myself to snap back to reality, crossing my arms as I watch the intruder.

She might look like an angel, but she’s trespassing, and I don’t like the way she’s writing in that little pink notebook.

Is she a journalist, here to drag up the past?

Hell, why else would she be sneaking around my land, making notes?

All these thoughts fly through my brain in the space of a few seconds.

I open my mouth to speak, ready to tell the girl to get out of here, when suddenly, she looks up.

When she sees me standing over her, she lets out a squeak of surprise, stumbling back.

Her big brown eyes meet mine, wide and doe-like, and my breath hitches as I take in her pretty face—soft cheeks, plump red lips…

Fuck.

The girl looks shocked, but there’s something else in her expression that raises my suspicions. Guilt. Like I’ve caught her out.

“What are you doing here?” I ask gruffly. “This is private property.”

“Sorry!” She takes another step back, clutching the notebook to her chest. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

Her voice is sweet as honey, and I feel a twinge of pity as I scowl down at her.

She looks adorable, blinking up at me with those pretty brown eyes, but I can see the fear behind them, and I can’t blame her for being scared.

I’m a seven-foot giant, twice this girl’s size, and we’re all alone out here in the woods.

If I was a better man, I’d turn around right now and leave her alone.

But I need to know how she found me. I need to know if the past is about to be stirred up all over again.

“How did you know I was here?” I ask her.

“I…” She frowns, biting her lip like she’s confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean how did you find me?” I run a hand over my beard, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. “Who are you writing for? A newspaper? Blog?”

“Newspaper?” The girl looks at me like I’ve grown an extra head. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. I was just taking a walk…I live out here.”

She looks baffled, like she’s wondering if I’m some kind of crazy person, and I feel a knot of shame twist inside me.

“Shit,” I mutter. “Sorry, I thought…hell, it doesn’t matter what I thought.”

Her eyes linger on me warily and I take a step back, shaking my head.

The paranoia has drained away as fast as it came, leaving me feeling like a fucking idiot.

What was I thinking? Of course she’s not a journalist. Apart from a few dark corners of the internet, nobody gives a shit about what happened all those years ago.

The rest of the world has moved on, even if I haven’t.

“I should get going,” the girl says, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Sorry again for trespassing. I’ll be more careful next time.”

Something stirs inside me as she turns away.

I feel like an asshole for being so gruff with her.

I want to make it right, give her a proper apology, but she’s already hurrying away through the trees, her wavy hair streaming behind her as she disappears.

A crazy part of me wants to chase after her, wrap her up in my arms, keep her with me.

She was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. An angel. And I was a total jerk.

Now I’ll probably never see her again.

The thought gnaws at me way more than it should as I head back to the juniper tree and continue chopping, unleashing my frustration with every swing of my axe.

The girl was just a stranger I met in the woods—nothing more—but fuck, I swear the world shifted when she looked at me.

It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.

The memory of her thick curves makes my heart thud, slamming against my rib cage as the tree finally topples to the ground with a thunderous creak.

I barely glance at it. Instead, I look back toward the place where the girl vanished and heave a sigh.

I didn’t even find out her name.