Page 3 of My Bossy Mountain Man (Summer in the Pines #9)

Dallas

“I don’t think my nose has bled like this since high school.”

To fill the silent air, Tulip rambles as she rests against the surface of a cluttered desk.

One, I had to push the sheets around to make enough room for her to sit.

This entire room is a hoarder’s wet dream.

Once an office, now turned into a storage space, there’s just enough room for the addition of the two of us.

After abandoning her long enough to get some paper towels to wet them, I’ve returned, fitting myself between her parted knees to help wipe away the dried crimson.

“Do you have a habit of books falling on your face even during your younger years?” Curious to find out whatever I can about her, I pluck for information whenever I can.

The paper towel grazes her chin, and her lips curve into a smile—soft, but there. Even when her face is flushed and her nose is swelling, she still remains positive.

“While I did spend a lot of time at the school library, I’ll have to disappoint you by saying I stayed far away from any book that is more than an inch thick.

” A self-deprecating laugh slips out as her fingers brush the bridge of her nose.

“Actually, you can thank my inability to play sports. Took a few hits to the face, and my nose has always bled like a fountain because of it.”

I snort at the mental image and feel my frown crack before I can stop it. Shit. Too late.

I brace for her to flinch. I know what my smile looks like—all teeth, no warmth, like a damn villain plotting his next crime. Not exactly comforting. Not something people lean into.

But she doesn’t pull away.

Instead, she’s staring at me like I’ve just pulled the moon from the sky. Amazed. Unblinking. Her lips part slightly, like she’s about to say something, but the words dissolve in the space between us. The air thickens, and for a heartbeat, neither of us moves.

Why isn’t she looking away?

Her gaze holds mine, steady and unflinching, and it’s making it impossible not to stare back.

But where her eyes linger with something warm—something knowing—mine drops to her mouth for entirely different reasons. I’m not admiring her smile. No, I’m too busy wondering if those lips are as soft as they look, if they’d part easy under mine, if she’d gasp or sigh or—

A nudge closer. A hesitation with the paper towel.

The spell shatters.

Her focus dips, breaking away as she glances down at the streak of blood trailing her chest. Crimson rivers winding over smooth skin, slipping dangerously close to the swell of her cleavage—another damn war I’m losing today. My jaw tightens.

I told myself I wouldn’t take advantage and look, but I don’t have the strength to keep my word. Not while her breasts are staring me back in the face.

God, what is wrong with me? Bleeding and injured, all I want to do is kiss and touch her. I need better control over myself.

“Um, I think I can finish this up.” Breaking the silence between us, she takes the paper towels from my fingers. There’s no denying the layer of pink growing deeper in color on her skin.

Shit, I’ve embarrassed her, haven’t I? This is why I try not to push. I make more people uncomfortable than not.

“Right.” Grunting, I turn away and make some distance so she can finish up. I take the moment to slip out, to make sure no one needs help.

In truth, distance is good. I need some fresh air in my system before all the heat in my body decides to rush south.

I’m running this place here. Need to keep it together.

Giving her a couple of minutes, when I return, I see her grimacing at her ruined top.

“I should probably run home. I don’t think parents will appreciate their kids looking at a bloodied aide.” Smile returning to her lips, she tries to crack a joke.

Tulip walks here every day. A twenty-minute stroll that she insists she doesn’t mind walking. Even on rainy days, when she has her own poncho, boots, and an umbrella, she’ll still come inside like a rainbow after a storm. Bright, colorful, and beautiful.

“No.” The word escapes me without thinking.

As my greed takes over, the thought of losing any time with her fuels the demand to keep her here.

“I mean, I’m sure I have something around here you could wear.

The last thing I want to happen is for you to be blooded and have you pass out in that scorching heat happening outside. ”

As she tilts her head in confusion, I rub the back of my neck as I try to figure out what I can give her.

Considering going through the lost and found to see if there’s anything she could fit, something better comes to my mind.

“Hold on a moment.” Leaving her on the desk, her legs kicking back and forth, I hunt through a few boxes of old posters and advertisements I’ve received over the last few years.

I have an issue with throwing things away, and most of these items have an inch-thick layer of dust collecting on them.

“I can help you go through that stuff,” she calls out, reading my mind as I rub the dust between my fingertips. “If you want, I mean.”

Moving from one box to another, I continue to shift things around. “A project like that would take all night.”

It’s a joke, but she shrugs.

“Say the word, and I won’t mind staying a few hours over. Not like I’ve got anyone better to spend my time with.” She lets a little sigh slip through, a hint of disappointment that’s impossible to ignore.

She’s spent plenty of time talking about her sister and her husband, gossiping and prattling on as if she doesn’t have many people to share with. Somehow, Tulip doesn’t have a boyfriend or husband to spend time with, so she’s always opting to work alongside me to help pass the time.

Even once the sun is down and it’s just us, she’s willing. Picturing such a scenario has my mouth watering.

“I’ll think about it. For now, let’s just focus on you.”

Cracking open another dusty box, I finally spot what I’ve been searching for—a few leftover shirts from last summer’s reading program, folded and forgotten.

The fabric smells faintly of old paper, a nostalgic tug at my memory. I shuffle through them, checking sizes, before glancing up at her.

“What size would fit you best?” Wanting her to be comfortable, I’d be happy to give her the shirt off my back if none of these work out.

Her reaction is instant. The confidence she wears like armor flickers, just for a second, and her cheeks flush pink. Her legs stop swishing as she’s suddenly fascinated by the floor.

“I really don’t mind going back home,” she mumbles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s barely a walk. Forty minutes, max.”

I give her a look—the kind that says don’t even try it —and she exhales sharply, biting her bottom lip. Her gaze darts away before she finally caves, voice softer now.

“Um… 2XL. If you have it.”

It takes a few seconds for my brain to catch up to the realization that she’s feeling self-conscious before I frown.

Parting my lips, I almost say it outright—that she’s got the kind of body to drive a man mad. Hell, I’ve lost sleep over it. Nights where I’ve stared at the ceiling, replaying the way her hips sway when she walks, how her waist nips in just enough to make my hands itch to span it.

The generous swell of her chest, the thighs that could ruin a man’s self-control—every damn curve crafted to haunt their imagination.

At first, I assumed she already knew how good she looked. That the confidence in her stride, the way her fingers lingered on the fabric, meant she didn’t need me to tell her. But now I wonder—was she asking for my opinion because she needed to hear it? Because I hadn’t given her enough?

Damn. If that’s true, then I’ve failed her before I even realized it.

I should fix this. Find the right words—ones that don’t feel hollow, but don’t cross the line either. Honesty has always been my compass, but with Tulip? It’s a gamble. With the risk of losing her completely, the stakes are high.

I should compliment her and see how things play out.

Finding a shirt in her size, I hand it over before my hand moves to the back of my neck.

I’m still searching for the right words—something honest but weightless, a compliment that won’t betray too much—when she tugs the oversized shirt over her dress. The fabric swallows her waist, and my eyes are drawn right toward the design printed on it.

Staring back at me from her chest is a grinning cartoon book, its cover donning an unsettling smile while declaring ‘ Reading is Fun! ’. No wonder people didn’t come to claim their shirts.

“I love it,” she muses, her usual energy slipping right back into her. “Makes me wonder if you’ll ever entertain the idea of uniforms here.”

Not a chance. That would be like clouds coming in to block out the sun.

“Not anytime soon. Don’t worry, I won’t make you wear absurd clothing like that.” Rubbing the back of my neck, I look away before I get caught staring for too long. “If you love it, you can keep it. I’m sure when we clean this place up, you’ll find other things you’ll want, too.”

Tulip inhales sharply as she hops off the desk. “So we are doing it? When?”

She doesn’t hesitate—just surges forward, erasing the space between us like it was never there. She has no idea how intoxicating that energy is. It’s reckless, magnetic, the kind of thing that makes restraint feel like a losing battle.

“Give me a few days to prepare. Additionally, if your nose requires attention, I want you to prioritize your healing first. I can give you an extra day off and—”

Her smile vanishes mid-sentence. Before I can finish, her finger jabs into the center of my chest.

“Don’t you dare.” The playful lilt in her voice is gone, replaced by something firmer. “If you give me a day off before you take one yourself, I’ll show up anyway. Try me, mister.”

It’s rare for her to get serious. Rarer still for it to hit me this hard.

I exhale, conceding with a nod as she keeps poking—each prod an accusation. Finally, I catch her wrist, my fingers curling around hers. A squeeze. A silent truce.

Then, her breath hitches. Just a faint catch in her throat, but it’s enough to freeze us both. For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. The air between us thickens, charged with something neither of us names.

“A few days, then.” My voice comes out rougher than I intend. “We’ll clean this place up. See if anything’s worth keeping.”

Slowly, I let go, turning away before I do something stupid. Stupid like feeding into this demand to touch her more. To pull her toward me and go as far as kiss her.

The more time I spend with her like this, the more starved I become.

A few days to prepare. That’s the plan, at least. The truth is, I’ll need a whole week just to survive a few hours alone with her. With her proven patience with me, I’m sure I won’t get away with waiting half of it.