Page 4 of Mountain Man Wanted (Hard Timber Mountain Men #1)

JOELY

“You owe me a cinnamon roll. I never got to finish mine.” I sat in the front seat of Thatcher’s truck with the windows wide open.

As soon as we’d taken Fabio back to the tent, Nellie handed us each a blanket to wrap up in to try to contain the stench and sent us back to Thatcher’s with a huge bottle of something she called her “homemade de-skunking magic.”

“I never even got to start mine,” he said. “Knowing my nephew, they’re probably already all gone.”

“How old is he?” I asked, hoping to get a real conversation going. So far, he’d mostly answered my questions in grunts and grumbles.

“Six. He’s like a human garbage disposal, though.” Thatcher looked over, meeting my gaze for a split second before turning his eyes back to the road. “I don’t know where he puts it.”

“And he’s your brother’s kid?”

“Yeah. Holt’s a year younger than me and my brother Dane is a year younger than him. I’ve got a sister, too. Jessa’s the baby of the family.”

I’d never say that being sprayed by a skunk was a good thing, but something had shifted between me and the grumpy mountain man. Like he’d let down his guard a little. Not much, but at least enough to act like a regular human. And he was actually kind of cute when he wasn’t frowning.

“Your poor mother. Three boys that close together couldn’t have been easy.” I let out a soft laugh.

“My mom’s dead,” he said, his voice flat. And just like that, whatever defenses he’d let down slid right back into place.

“I’m so sorry.” Biting down on my lip, I wished I could take back what I’d said. It wasn’t the first time I’d opened my mouth and inserted my entire foot. With the way things were going between the two of us, it probably wouldn’t be the last.

The truck bounced over the rutted dirt road as we neared Thatcher’s cabin.

Nellie said that would be the best place to go since he had a creek running through his property and we could easily scrub the skunk smell off of us there.

But the closer we got, the more I wondered whether it was a good idea to go to his place.

I wasn’t worried about something bad happening, I just didn’t want to make things worse between us.

“Maybe you should drop me off where I’m staying,” I said as we neared the turnoff for The Huckleberry Hideaway.

“Why? There’s no outdoor water spigot. You want the whole place to smell like you do?”

That was a valid point, but I could figure something out. “No. I just don’t want to impose.”

“It’s fine.” The words coming out of his mouth didn’t match his body language. His hands clenched the steering wheel, and I could have cut glass against the hard set of his jaw.

“Are you sure?”

“Do you need a hand-delivered personal invitation?”

Before I could decide whether he was joking or not, we passed the turn off to the cabin.

For better or worse, we were stuck with each other for now.

My stomach tightened, and I tried to tamp down my anxiety.

As Thatcher pulled into a narrow drive, a big dog ambled toward the truck.

Tail wagging, tongue lolling out of its mouth, it looked friendly enough.

“That’s Bear. He won’t hurt you.”

The name fit since the dog was the size of a small grizzly. As I climbed down from the truck, Bear backed away. “Wow. Not even your dog wants to be around us.”

“Can you blame him?” Thatcher stepped onto the small front porch. “I’m going to grab a couple of towels. The creek’s just down the trail over there.”

He pointed at a narrow path leading through the trees.

“I can wait for you.”

“Figured you might want to get undressed in private.”

My cheeks immediately heated. “Oh. I guess I’ll meet you over there then.”

Clutching the blanket around me, I left Thatcher on the porch and headed toward the path. Bear followed a safe distance behind. Thatcher’s place looked exactly like I’d imagined, like he’d cut down the trees and built his cabin with his bare hands. He probably had.

Bear must have gotten tired of going so slow. He ran ahead, leading the way to the creek. As I passed through the last of the trees, the view stopped me in my tracks. Snowcapped mountains towered above, a stunning backdrop to the crystal-clear water of the creek cutting through the woods.

I took in a long, deep breath and instantly regretted it. My nose filled with skunk smell, and I coughed. The sooner I scrubbed it away, the better.

Thatcher had called it a creek, but it looked more like a narrow river to me.

Water flowed between the banks slowly and steady, so clear I could see the rocks lining the bottom.

I tossed the blanket from my shoulders and kicked off my boots.

Bear didn’t waste any time. He plunged straight into the water, splashing icy cold droplets all over me.

“He loves the water,” Thatcher said as he came up behind me.

“It’s freezing. Are you really going to get in there?” I shivered just thinking about stepping into the creek. There had to be another way… a warm way to scrub skunk smell off of me.

“It’s good for you. Mother Nature’s original cold plunge.” He tossed two towels over a low tree branch then pulled his shirt over his head.

My stomach plummeted to my feet. The man had the kind of abs I’d only seen in magazines. There didn’t seem to be an extra ounce of fat anywhere. In awe, I wrapped my arms around my middle, totally self-conscious of the extra weight I carried.

He didn’t stop there. As he turned around to face the creek, he undid the button of his jeans then slid them all the way down his legs.

If he was wearing underwear, those went with his pants.

I couldn’t look away. My eyes were glued to his amazing glutes.

I’d never seen such human perfection in the flesh.

Then, calmly and casually like we were just taking a regular afternoon dip, he stepped into the water and walked toward the middle of the creek.

I tried to swallow but my mouth had gone bone dry.

“Hey, will you toss me a washcloth and Nellie’s scrub?” Thatcher headed back toward the bank.

Before he stepped out of the waist deep water and scrambled my brain, I grabbed what he needed. “I’ve got it.”

He easily caught the items I tossed, even though my throw wasn’t exactly spot on. It was hard to aim when all I could think about was how much I’d seen of him. And even worse, how hot and bothered it had made me feel.

“Thanks. You coming in?”

“Um… I don’t know.” There were too many factors working against me. Like the water was so cold I might freeze to death. Or more importantly, I didn’t want a man with the body of a Greek god to see my cellulite-covered thighs.

“Joely.” The way he said my name hit me low in the gut. It was part scolding, part demand, but definitely wasn’t a question. “If you want to smell like skunk, that’s fine with me. It ought to wear off by itself in a couple months.”

A couple months? Ugh. Why had I taken this assignment? I should have stayed in the city where the worst thing I could get sprayed with was a rogue sprinkler.

“I’ll just wait until you’re finished.” That would be better. He could take his chiseled self back to his cabin, and I’d have the whole creek to myself.

He shook his head like he couldn’t believe I didn’t want to get naked with him.

Then he lathered up with Nellie’s scrub and spent the next ten minutes scrubbing every inch of his kissed-by-the-sun skin.

I sat down on the stinky blanket, pulled my legs up and rested my chin on my knees while I tried not to stare as the washcloth glided over his tanned arms and broad shoulders.

When he was done, he walked right out of the water like he didn’t have a care in the world, grabbed a towel, and secured it around his waist. Water droplets glistened on his chest. The situation was so over the top, I almost wanted to laugh.

I imagined the titles I could use for my article.

“The best way to get a mountain man naked” or “What’s really underneath the flannel of Montana’s mountain men. ”

Neither of those angles would land me on the list for a coveted journalistic award, though my chances of that imploded when my career went off the rails.

“Your turn.” Thatcher’s deep voice dragged my attention back to the creek, reminding me I was still covered in skunk stink. “You want me to wait to make sure nothing happens?”

“I’m pretty sure I can handle it.” Now that he was semi-covered, it seemed safe enough to look him in the eye.

“Alright.” He rolled his things up in the blanket and held it away from his skin. “I’m going to go get dressed. I’ll bring you something to put on after you get out.”

Something to put on… my pulse spiked. I’d been so preoccupied by taking my clothes off that I hadn’t given any thought to what I’d put on after a dip in the creek. Unless I wanted to walk back to the cabin in a towel, I’d be wearing something of Thatcher’s. “Thanks. That would be great.”

He nodded and headed down the trail leading back to his cabin. Bear jumped out of the creek to follow, but Thatcher turned back and pointed at him. “Stay here.”

The dog slowly moved toward me then dropped down to his belly and rested his huge head on his paws.

“He’ll keep an eye on you while you clean up,” Thatcher said. Without another word, he disappeared down the path, leaving me alone.

First, I peeled off my jeans, then my shirt. I lifted the strap of my sports bra, hoping the skunk smell hadn’t soaked in, but it smelled just as bad as everything else. Groaning, I tossed my bra and my underwear onto the blanket, grabbed the scrub and a washcloth, and dipped my toe into the water.

It probably would have been warmer stepping into the Arctic Ocean.

My teeth started to chatter as I forced myself to move toward the middle of the creek.

As quickly as possible, I ducked under the water then scrubbed every inch of my skin and hair with Nellie’s skunk scrub.

My fingers were so cold they’d gone numb, and I stumbled on the rocks on the bottom of the creek as I rinsed off and made my way back to the bank.

One second, I was standing upright then my foot slipped on a slimy rock.

My head went under, and I struggled to get my footing on the slick bottom.

The current hadn’t felt very strong when I had my feet under me but now it swept me along.

I couldn’t end like this, drowning in four feet of ice-cold mountain spring water.

Bear ran along the bank, his barks echoing off the mountains. I gasped for air before I got pulled under again, my fingers scraping roots and rotten wood, searching for something to hold onto.

Then strong arms locked around me, holding me in place. The creek flowed around Thatcher as he stood in the center of it like a boulder. He picked me up like I didn’t weigh any more than a feather and carried me back to where he’d left the towels.

I was too cold and way too embarrassed to say a word. With my arms crossed over my boobs, I tried to make myself as small as possible.

Maybe this was just a bad dream. A horrible, awful nightmare that I’d wake up from any second.

I pinched myself and winced. No, this was definitely happening.

I’d been plucked out of a shallow creek, as naked as the day I was born, and hauled back to safety by a man who looked like he could split mountains in half with his bare hands.

Speaking of those hands, as my skin thawed, I could feel one pressing against my upper arm, not too far from my right breast. Tingles raced through me and heat pooled in my core.

Thatcher bent down with me still in his arms and grabbed a towel.

He tossed it over me and headed down the trail to his cabin.

Looked like I was going home with the mountain man.