Page 13 of Mountain Man Claimed (Hard Timber Mountain Men #4)

ROWAN

It started with my hand in his. Just my fingers curling around Dane’s as we walked up the hill behind the courts, leaving the hustle and bustle of the festival behind.

Laughter still echoed from Main Street, carried on the night breeze, but I hardly noticed.

My focus was locked on the warmth of his hand , the grounding weight of it steadying me in a way I hadn’t let myself need in years.

“I didn’t think today would end like this,” I admitted.

Dane glanced at me, his smile brighter than sunlight. “What, the dancing or the part where you didn’t bolt after I kissed you in front of half the town?”

I let out a laugh. “Both.”

We reached the overlook above the unfinished pickleball courts. Just frames and concrete so far—but already I could see what it would become… a place for connection… for something new. Dane dropped onto the picnic bench and gave my hand a gentle tug until I sat beside him.

Our knees touched, and I didn’t move away.

“I meant what I said,” he told me, voice low. “About being in this for real.”

“I know,” I said, quiet but sure. “I just… didn’t expect it.”

His head tilted. “What part?”

“That someone like you would want someone like me.”

His brow furrowed. “Rowan, come on. You think I don’t see you?”

My gaze jerked to his.

“You’re smart. Competent as hell. You care more than you let people see, and you’ve been fighting for this town since the day you got here. And whether you realize it or not, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen walk into a town meeting.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. “You’re just saying that because I finally wore jeans.”

He chuckled. “Whether it’s jeans or pencil skirts, March, you always get under my skin.”

I looked down at our joined hands. My chest tightened.

I could still hear my parents screaming the night everything split apart—my dad slamming the door, my mom crying that love never lasted.

Years later, my ex proved her right when he packed a bag without warning and left me standing in our kitchen with two mugs still warm on the counter.

I’d promised myself then: never again. Never want too much. Never need anyone enough that they could leave and take the air with them.

“I’ve spent most of my life trying not to need anyone,” I said.

“Playing it safe. Doing things right. And somehow, I still ended up feeling like I was always on the outside.” I hesitated, then let the words come.

“I think I was scared that wanting you would make me reckless. That I’d lose everything I’ve worked so hard to build. ”

His voice was rough when he answered. “You’re allowed to be reckless. With me, you can be anything.”

I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder. His scent wrapped around me—wood smoke and warm skin, the faint salt of sweat, and something I couldn’t name but had come to crave. For a long moment, we just sat there, watching the stars wink down on us from overhead.

“You’re going to finish the courts,” I said.

A slow smile curved his mouth. “Sure am. Once I have the permits in hand, Ridge has a guy who says he can get started right away.”

That made me lift my head. “Ridge Backstrom has connections?”

“Yeah. And ideas. We’re talking about a weekend league. Sabrina’s on board to sponsor it through the coffee shop.”

I leaned back, watching him. “You’re really doing this.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I am.” His eyes searched mine. “The only thing I’m still not sure about is where we stand.”

I hesitated, my heart thudding.

He turned, fully facing me now. “I know it’s scary opening up, but I’m not going anywhere. And I don’t want you to change. I’m just asking you to let me in.”

I reached up, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, feeling his breath catch. “You already are.”

My voice shook, but I didn’t look away this time. The fear was still there, coiled and whispering that love only ended in doorframes and silence, but I let him see me, anyway.

Relief softened his expression, then he cupped my jaw, leaning in. The kiss that followed wasn’t rushed or needy. It was warm, and reverent. Like something I could build a life around, not something that would burn out.

I sighed into him, sliding my fingers into his hair, and the way he responded—with a groan low in his throat and a hand curling possessively at my waist—made something in me melt. I’d been holding back for so long. But with Dane, I didn’t want to.

I didn’t have to.

When we pulled apart, I smiled. “You know, this might be the first time I haven’t had a checklist for how something’s supposed to go.”

He chuckled. “You want me to help you make one?”

“No,” I said, settling my hand over his heart. “I want to see what happens without one.”

We stayed there a while longer, listening to the festival wind down, letting the silence wrap around us. When I finally stood and stretched, he rose too, reaching for my hand again.

“Walk me home?” I asked.

“Always,” he said, and I believed him.

He held my hand the whole way, his thumb brushing mine like a quiet promise. We didn’t talk much. Didn’t need to. The silence between us felt full now, not empty…like it had been waiting for this moment to stretch out and settle.

At my door, I fumbled with the key, my heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with nerves. He took it from my hand, unlocked the door, and pushed it open like it was the most natural thing in the world to step inside with me.

I turned to him in the entryway, the light from the porch spilling across his face. “You know this doesn’t make everything easy,” I said. “I’m still me. Stubborn. Guarded. Maybe too much.”

“Good. I like you exactly how you are .” His voice dropped, sure and gentle. “I love you, you know.”

The words slammed through me, cracking something open I’d sworn was sealed. My parents hadn’t survived loving each other. My ex hadn’t even tried. Love had always meant being left.

But Dane said it like he was putting down roots. Like he planned to stay.

I swallowed hard. “And I love you right back.”

He kissed me there in the doorway, deep and tender, like he wanted to make a lasting impression. Then he backed me toward the bedroom, one slow step at a time, never taking his eyes off mine.

When the backs of my knees hit the bed, he caught me as I sank down, his weight following, bracing himself above me as I reached for him.

* * *

Dane

I laid her down gently on the bed, like she was something to be cherished, and followed her down. My arms bracketed her as she reached for me. Her fingertips skimmed over the back of my neck, anchoring herself to something solid. To me.

We undressed each other slowly , not frantic this time, taking the kind of care you only give when you know it matters .

Heat curled tight between us as I peeled her shirt over her head, pausing to kiss the curve of her shoulder, the soft swell of her collarbone.

Her hands slid under my shirt, her nails dragging lightly down my spine before she pulled it off and tossed it aside.

I kissed my way down her body, lingering over the freckles scattered across her chest like constellations .

She was trusting me with parts of herself she’d hidden since the people who should’ve stayed—hadn’t.

I knew about the parents who blew up their marriage like it was nothing.

The ex who’d packed a bag while she was still setting the table.

I wanted to worship every mark, every scar, every soft place she might have ever tried to hide.

I wanted her to feel seen. To know I’d never look away.

She arched under me with heavy-lidded eyes, lips parting as I worked my way lower.

By the time I settled between her thighs, she was already trembling.

Her hands dove into my hair, hips lifting in rhythm with every pass of my tongue.

The sounds she made as she came undone punched straight through my chest.

When I finally moved over her again, she pulled me down hard, like she needed me as much as I needed her. I paused, kissed her deep, and reached to the nightstand for a condom. She watched me, eyes wide and unguarded , and helped roll it on with shaking hands.

“Are you sure?” I murmured, my forehead pressed to hers.

She nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never been more sure.”

I slid inside her slow, careful, letting her body guide me. Her breath hitched, her legs wrapped around my waist, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

It wasn’t just sex. It was something deeper. Every thrust was a promise. Every whispered word was something I hadn’t known I’d been carrying, finally set free. I wanted to make her feel wanted… cherished… chosen.

This isn’t another flame, I told myself as her fingers clutched at my back. This isn’t something I burn through and leave behind. I’m staying.

“I love you,” I said against her neck, meaning every word.

She gasped, then tightened her arms around me. “I love you too.”

I let go of everything I’d been holding back. Every wall I’d kept up. Every fear that I’d never be enough for someone like her. And when she came apart underneath me, crying out my name, I followed with a groan, burying my face in her neck as we both unraveled.

Later, she curled into my chest, one hand splayed across my ribs like she was staking a claim. I held her tighter.

The next morning, I made her coffee and wrapped my arms around her on her porch while the sun streaked shades of orange and pink across the mountains. I never knew it could feel like this, like I belonged somewhere without having to earn it every day.

Rowan looked up at me, her hair a mess, wrapped in a flannel robe that swallowed her whole. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

“Okay.” Her voice was still rough with sleep. “Maybe this whole letting-someone-in thing has its perks.”

I smiled. “Told you so.”

She took the mug from my hand. “If you tell anyone I let you make me coffee, I’ll deny it,” she said as she took a sip.

“Of course.” I wrapped her in my arms, tugging her even closer. “You have a reputation to uphold.”

She leaned her forehead against mine, our breath warm between us. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

“I never would,” I said. “A wise woman once told me that ‘Sometimes the ones who put up the highest walls have the most worth protecting behind them.’ She meant you, and she was right.”