Page 2 of My Tempting Mountain Man (Summer In The Pines #2)

Liam

I grip the steering wheel harder, knuckles turning white as I guide my battered pickup truck up the winding mountain road. The rain’s relentless, visibility close to nothing, and I swear the gods are mocking me today.

"You know, I usually don't get lost," Everly says cheerfully from the passenger seat, tugging absently at the hem of her drenched sundress. It clings to her skin like a second layer, water droplets slipping lazily down her bare thighs. I swallow hard, forcing my gaze back to the road.

"Looks like today was your unlucky day," I mutter, trying not to sound as irritated as I feel.

"Unlucky? Maybe," she says, shifting in her seat to face me more directly. I catch the scent of her perfume again, a sweet, seductive vanilla that clings stubbornly to the damp air inside my truck. It’s intoxicating and completely unwelcome. "Or maybe fate decided I needed an adventure."

"Fate sounds like a pain in the ass."

Everly laughs, a musical sound that cuts straight through my carefully constructed walls. "Maybe. But adventures can be fun."

I grunt in response, eyes narrowed as I carefully navigate the muddy road. My cabin isn’t much farther, tucked away deep in these mountains. Isolated exactly how I like it. This girl, all city sparkle and incessant chatter, doesn't belong anywhere near my quiet, secluded sanctuary.

"Are you from around here?" she asks, relentless in her attempt to coax me into conversation.

"No."

"Where are you from?"

"Not here."

She sighs softly, though there's a hint of amusement hidden beneath it. "Got it. The mysterious mountain-man vibe. You’ve nailed it, Liam."

I glance sideways at her, frowning slightly. The corners of her mouth twitch in a smile, her eyes sparkling despite the chill. She wraps her arms around herself tighter, and I realize she's shivering.

"You cold?" I ask grudgingly.

"A little," she admits softly. "Didn't really pack for mountain storms, unfortunately."

Of course she didn't. Her suitcase probably contains nothing more practical than a dozen dresses and books with shirtless men on the covers.

Without another word, I reach behind the seat and pull out the blanket I keep stashed for emergencies. "Here."

"Thanks," she says, taking it gratefully. Her fingers brush against mine briefly, sending an unwelcome jolt straight through my chest. I quickly pull my hand away, refocusing intently on the slick road ahead.

Everly bundles herself up, sighing with contentment. "So, Liam, how long have you lived up here?"

I grit my teeth. She won’t stop. I should've left her on the side of the road and called someone—anyone—to come fetch her when the storm cleared. Instead, I'm stuck listening to her cheerful rambling, her voice a sweet melody I can't escape.

"Few years," I finally say, keeping my voice curt.

"Must be peaceful," she muses. "Quiet. No one around to bother you."

"Usually."

She chuckles lightly, clearly catching the not-so-subtle dig. "Don't worry, I promise I won't overstay my welcome."

"Good."

We fall into a brief silence. I nearly relax, thinking she's done for now.

But then she shifts again, her legs crossing.

My eyes betray me, flicking involuntarily to the movement.

Rain still traces a slow, tantalizing path down her skin.

I find myself imagining how soft she must feel beneath my hands, the warmth of her?—

"So, I was supposed to be going to a yoga retreat," she continues, oblivious to my internal struggle. "It’s supposed to be relaxing. Resetting, you know? I was thinking I'd come back to the city all zen and recharged. But clearly, plans change."

"Clearly."

"I take it yoga isn’t your thing?"

"Not exactly."

She laughs again, louder this time, completely unfazed by my bluntness. "Well, maybe one day I can show you some poses. It might help with your stress levels."

"I'm not stressed."

She arches an eyebrow at me, clearly unconvinced. "Right. Totally zen. Got it."

I shake my head, fighting a smirk that threatens to break through my irritation. She’s persistent; I'll give her that.

The road narrows further, steep curves demanding my full attention. The tires skid slightly over mud, and Everly gasps softly, bracing herself against the dashboard. My heart leaps at the sound, nerves prickling at the near miss.

"Careful!" she breathes out, gripping the door handle.

"Sorry," I grunt, pulse hammering loudly in my ears. Not just from the near accident, but from the way her eyes widen, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath the wet fabric of her dress.

She nods slowly, licking her lips nervously. I swear time slows as I watch the tiny movement, my gut tightening in response.

Finally, the cabin appears through the heavy curtain of rain—a small sanctuary, sturdy and hidden within towering pines. Relief floods through me as I pull up in front, cutting the engine.

"We're here," I announce unnecessarily, eager to put some distance between us.

Everly peers through the windshield, eyes wide with curiosity. "Wow, this is...remote."

"That's the point."

She smiles softly. "Right. Peaceful isolation."

Exactly. Isolation I've worked hard to maintain. And now there's Everly—vibrant, distracting, and completely out of place in my carefully curated solitude.

"Come on," I mutter, pushing open the door and stepping into the storm.

She follows quickly, clutching the blanket around her shoulders as we hurry onto the porch. I fumble with the keys, overly aware of her shivering presence behind me.

"Thank you again," she says softly, sincerity clear in her voice.

"Don't thank me yet," I reply dryly, finally getting the door open. "You haven't seen inside."

She laughs lightly, the sound echoing through my chest, unsettling and yet oddly comforting. "I doubt it's worse than being stranded on the side of the road."

We step inside, the cabin small but comfortable—simple furnishings, rustic wood walls, the faint scent of pine permeating the air. Everly looks around, a slow smile spreading across her face.

"It's perfect," she says quietly, eyes meeting mine. The intensity there surprises me, genuine warmth cutting through my usual indifference.

"It’s not much," I mutter, suddenly self-conscious.

"It's cozy," she insists, sincerity radiating from her. "I love it."

My stomach tightens again, and I clear my throat, forcing myself to look away. "Bathroom's through there. You should get dry. I'll find something you can wear."

"Thanks, Liam," she says softly, eyes soft and grateful.

I grunt again, turning away quickly before I say or do something I'll regret. I hear the bathroom door close behind her, the faint rustle of fabric as she undresses.

Goddammit.

I run a hand roughly through my hair, shaking off the unwanted thoughts. Everly is trouble—the kind of trouble I’ve carefully avoided for years. Yet here she is, invading my quiet retreat, captivating me without even trying.

This storm better pass quickly. Because the last thing I need is this girl making herself comfortable in my life.