Page 54 of Mountain Daddy (Mountain Men #2)

Kendra

Twenty minutes later, I read the sign as Luther turns off the road. “Black Mountain Lodge. If you’re planning on us spending the night here, I feel like we should have packed a bag or something.”

We pass a fancy-looking gate, and I wonder what kind of lodge this is and what we could possibly be doing here in the middle of the day.

“Sadly, I don’t have an overnight planned.” Luther shakes his head. “I feel like I’m back in high school, sneaking around to avoid my girlfriend’s dad.”

His attention is on the winding driveway, so I don’t think he even realizes what he said. Or rather how it sounded.

My girlfriend’s dad.

Girlfriend.

Is that what I am? His girlfriend?

Just in secret?

“Did you ever get caught?” I ask, curious what a teenage Luther would’ve been like.

During the ride over here, we talked about nothing.

What I did this morning at work.

What’s on the menu at the Inn right now.

Nothing. And that’s what makes this feel so right.

I flex my fingers around Luther’s.

We weren’t even out of my neighborhood before Luther placed his hand on the center console, palm up.

He didn’t say anything. No demand. Just the open hand.

So, I did what any sane person would do. I set my palm against his.

And he’s been holding my hand since.

He squeezes my fingers back.

“I had some close calls but was never caught. One of my buddies, though, he got walked in on. Had to run down the street naked, his girl’s dad running after him, screaming his head off.” Luther chuckles, and I have a suspicion.

“Please don’t tell me that was my dad.”

Luther grins. “I can’t lie to you, Baby.”

“Ew.” I try to pull my hand away so I can rub that image out of my eyes, but Luther just holds my hand tighter.

“You shouldn’t’ve asked.”

“Next time I won’t.” I pretend to gag.

The forest ahead of us thins, and we start to drive past buildings. Cabins, a pair of campground bathrooms. More cabins on the other side of the drive.

Then I see another sign. This one is temporary, set up like you’d see on a sidewalk outside a shop.

An arrow points farther into the woods, and two words have me forgetting all about Luther’s story. “Bake sale?”