Page 3 of Rugged Mountain Man (Men of Ravencliff Mountain #1)

Sadie

I wake to the scent of coffee and the soft crackle of a fire. For a moment, I forget where I am. The cozy warmth of the cabin is such a far cry from my sterile city apartment that it feels like I’ve stepped into someone else’s life entirely.

Then I remember—getting lost, stepping in the trap, the storm, and Cole.

My ankle protests as I swing my legs off the couch.

I glance down at it, wrapped securely in a bandage.

It feels tender, but the sharp pain is gone.

Testing it with a careful roll, I realize it’s already much better.

A good thing, because I’d hate to hobble around like a damsel in distress for much longer.

My gaze drifts to the pile of clothes neatly folded on the sofa. My jeans, socks, and shirt are clean and dry—no trace of mud or rain. Next to them sits my cleaned hiking boots. The sight tugs at something deep inside me. He didn’t have to do that.

The sound of a skillet scraping pulls my attention to the open kitchen.

Cole stands at the stove, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his grey t-shirt, his arms moving with that same quiet strength I noticed when he carried me.

He’s flipping something in a pan—eggs, I think—and the sight of him doing something so… normal throws me.

Mountain men don’t cook breakfast in my head. They chop wood and growl at people.

But then his head turns, and his dark eyes land on me.

He freezes, spatula mid-air. His eyes drop, skimming over my bare legs peeking out from beneath his shirt.

The movement is slow, deliberate, like he’s taking in every inch of me and cataloging it.

My pulse quickens under his gaze, a heat spreading from my chest all the way down to my toes.

When his throat works in a hard swallow, a spark ignites low in my belly.

Cole turns back to the stove, and for a second, I think I can breathe again—until I really look at him.

His T-shirt clings to his broad shoulders, the fabric worn soft and stretched across the expanse of his back.

His arms flex with every small movement, thick and corded with muscle, and the tattoos that wind up his right arm only add to the rugged, dangerous energy of him.

Ink swirls over his bicep, disappearing under the edge of his shirt, and I can’t stop imagining how far those tattoos go—or how good they’d look with nothing in the way.

And his jeans. Worn and sitting low on his hips, they do absolutely nothing to hide the hard strength of his body.

He’s barefoot, his movements steady and unhurried, like he’s entirely in control of everything—including me.

My pussy clenches. It can’t be. I’ve never had this reaction to a man before.

I swallow hard, dragging my gaze away before I lose what little composure I have left. This is ridiculous. Mountain men are not supposed to look this good. Aren’t they supposed to be scruffy, grizzled old hermits with bad teeth and questionable hygiene? Not… this.

This is trouble.

Heat flushes through me, and I grip the edge of the blanket tighter. “Good morning,” I say, my voice raspy from sleep.

“Morning.”

“Sleep well?”

“Yeah.” I tug at the hem of the shirt, suddenly hyperaware of how short it is. “I, uh, slept well.”

He doesn’t say anything, just watches me with that unreadable expression. My skin heats under his gaze, and I shuffle toward the counter, needing something—anything—to do.

“Coffees on the counter,” he says, his tone even, but his eyes are still on me. “Help yourself.”

I pour a mug, my hands shaking slightly, and take a sip to hide my face. The coffee is strong and black, nothing like the fancy lattes I’m used to, but I like it. It’s real. Grounding.

When I glance at him again, he’s back at the stove, but the tension in his shoulders is unmistakable. Does he notice me staring? Does he care?

“You hungry?” he asks without turning around. From the feeling in my pussy, but not for breakfast.

“A little.”

“Good. Sit.”

I sit at the small table, the old wood smooth under my hands. The cabin is even cozier in the daylight, every surface neat and intentional.

He sets a plate in front of me and another across the table before sitting down. His presence fills the room, heavy and warm.

“Thanks,” I say, taking a bite of the eggs. They’re perfectly seasoned, the toast golden and crisp. “This is good.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

I roll my eyes. “Charming as ever.”

He smirks, just barely. “Eat.”

I glance up at him as I chew, catching the way his forearms flex when he lifts his fork. His tattoos shift with every movement, dark ink against tan skin. I look away quickly, heat rising to my cheeks.

“How’s the ankle?” he asks, breaking the silence.

I move it carefully under the table. “Sore, but I think it’s okay.”

“Good.” His dark eyes settle on me. “You’ll need it.”

“For what?”

“Walking. Getting back to your city nonsense.”

The reminder stings, a sharp jab to the bubble I didn’t realize I was in. I set my fork down, suddenly not hungry. “Yeah. That.”

His gaze sharpens. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” I force a smile. “Just… work stuff.”

“Sounds like more than that.”

I sigh, pushing my plate away. “It’s just a lot. I haven’t sold a house in six months. My boss is breathing down my neck, and if I don’t make something happen soon, I’m out of a job.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a job to lose.”

I blink at him, startled. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a dead-end, isn’t it?” He leans back, crossing his arms, his biceps straining against the fabric of his shirt. “Doesn’t sound like you even like it.”

“I worked hard to get that job.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s right for you.” His tone is calm, but the words cut deep. “Why’d you come here? To figure it out?”

I look away, my throat tight. “Yeah, but…”

“Then figure it out,” he says simply. “Stay. A few more days, at least.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “I can’t just… stay. I have responsibilities.”

“To what? A boss who doesn’t appreciate you?

A career that you are not sure about it?

” His voice softens just a fraction. He see’s right through me, how selling houses wasn’t in my ten-year plan, how I pursued something just to make some money and get on my feet.

It’s not what I love, it’s not what I’m passionate about.

“You said you’re staying at Sweet Haven, right? Checked in with them last night. Told them you’re safe. You’ve got time.”

My chest tightens. He’s right, I do hate my job. I thought it was what I wanted and that my personality was perfect for it. But it wasn’t giving me joy. “I don’t know. I’m supposed to leave tomorrow anyway.”

“You came here for a reason,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Maybe you haven’t found it yet.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is. You’re not ready to leave. So don’t.”

I blink, sure I’ve misheard him. “I don’t know if I want to extend my stay at Sweet Haven, it’s great it just has the wrong crowd and vibe.”

“I have some cabins I rent out at my outfitters camp. You’re welcome to move there.”

My heart stutters. “You’d do that? For me?”

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “They’re empty this time of year. Besides, it’ll give you a better idea of what the mountains are really like. Sweet Haven’s nice, but it’s frou-frou. Not the real thing.”

A laugh bubbles out of me, unexpected. “Frou-frou? Is that your professional assessment?”

His lips twitch, almost a smile. “Something like that.”

I bite my lip, torn between practicality and the wild urge to say yes. “I don’t know. I have to check with my boss.”

“Go ahead,” he says, leaning back in his chair like he’s got all the time in the world. “But make it quick. We’ve got some ground to cover if I’m going to show you what this place is all about.”

“You mean… now? Don’t you have to see to your business?”

“I have people taking care of everything. I’ve got the day.

You’ve got decisions to make. Might as well make them with the right view.

” His tone is steady, almost teasing, but there’s something in his gaze that makes me feel anchored.

Like maybe, just maybe, I could actually stay.

I get dressed quickly while Cole tidies up.

I grab my phone from the charging point and step outside, the crisp air biting my cheeks as I dial. My boss picks up on the second ring, her tone sharp.

“Parker. Please tell me you’re calling with an offer.”

My stomach twists. “Not quite. Look, I need to extend my trip by a few days.”

“Extend?” she repeats, incredulous. “Sadie, are you serious? You haven’t made a sale in months, and now you’re asking for more time off?”

“I’ll handle my leads remotely, but I need a little more time. I’ve hurt my leg and need some time to heal.” I lie. It doesn’t matter because as usual she doesn’t listen.

Her laugh is cold. “You think this little mountain getaway is going to fix your numbers? Newsflash, Sadie, your performance is on me, and it’s not cutting it. If you’re not back by Monday with an offer, don’t bother coming back at all.”

She hangs up before I can respond.

I step back inside, my thoughts spinning as the weight of everything presses down on me. Cole is still leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching me like he’s waiting for an answer.

“All set?” he asks.

“She’s not happy,” I say, trying to keep my voice light. “But I can stay a few more days.”

His lips twitch, almost a smile. “Guess she’ll survive.”

I shrug, my chest tightening. “I just… need to figure out my next move.”

“Then stop thinking so hard,” he says. “Come on. I’ll show you a few of my favourite spots.”

I blink at him, surprised. “What?”

“The mountains,” he says simply. “The real ones. Not the tourist trails.”

My throat tightens. Something about his calm certainty steadies me. “I… I’d like that.”

“Good,” he says, turning to grab his jacket.

Before I can stop myself, I cross the room and wrap my arms around his waist. It’s impulsive and probably ridiculous, but I don’t care. I just need to say thank you somehow, to show him how much I appreciate… all of it.

For a moment, he’s stiff, clearly caught off guard. But then his arms come around me, warm and solid, and I feel his breath against the top of my head. His hands rest lightly on my back, like he’s afraid of crushing me.

“Thank you.”

His chest moves beneath my cheek as he exhales, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “You’re welcome.”

The hug lingers, the air between us shifting. My pulse is racing, every nerve hyperaware of the heat rolling off him, the steady strength of his body. When I pull back, my face is burning, but his gaze holds mine, unreadable and intense.

“Let’s get going,” he says, his voice lower now, rougher. “You’ve got some real mountains to see.”