Page 4 of Rugged Mountain Man (Men of Ravencliff Mountain #1)

Cole

Her scent lingers, soft and sweet, even as I haul the truck up the dirt path that winds through the mountains.

The feel of her body pressed against mine is burned into my skin.

That impulsive hug—quick, unexpected, and too damn intimate.

Her arms around my waist, her cheek against my chest—it’s all I can think about, and it’s messing with my head.

I should’ve pushed her away, kept it professional.

But instead, I’d stood there, holding her like a damn fool, every instinct roaring that she belonged in my arms.

I mean, all I wanted to do right then is lift her up and carry her to my bed and do unspeakable things to her all day. My cock twitches in my pants and I breathe in deeply. She’s not going to stay, Cole. Get a hold of yourself.

I grip the wheel tighter, my knuckles white. I’ve spent years keeping people at arm’s length, keeping my world simple. Then this woman waltzes in, all soft curves and big brown eyes, and suddenly, nothing feels simple anymore.

She’s talking a mile a minute. Something about how pretty the mountains are, her voice light and musical, but my brain is stuck on other things. Like how her legs looked in my shirt this morning. Or how her lips parted slightly when she caught me staring.

“Why are you so quiet?” she asks, turning to me with a smile that makes my chest ache.

“Just thinking,” I say, keeping my voice steady.

“About what?”

You. The way you’d look spread out on my bed; your skin flushed from my hands. The way your breath would hitch when I finally taste you.

I grip the steering wheel tighter, forcing my thoughts to stop spiralling. “Work,” I lie.

She gives me a knowing look, like she doesn’t buy it for a second.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she says, her tone teasing.

I grunt in response, refusing to take the bait. We reach the first spot I want to take her, the meadow and when she sees the wildflowers spread out ahead of us. She stops talking.

She practically bounces out of the truck. Her excitement is infectious, her energy filling the space like sunlight breaking through the clouds.

“This is incredible,” she says, spinning around with her arms outstretched. Her hair catches in the breeze, and the sight of her makes my throat tighten.

I step out of the truck, keeping my distance, but my eyes stay locked on her. She crouches by the flowers, her fingers skimming the tips of the flowers, and I can’t help but imagine those hands on me. Sliding over my chest, down my stomach, wrapping around—

I shake my head, hard. Get a grip, Cole.

Focus.

“This is what you do?” she asks, turning to me with wide eyes. “Just… hang out in paradise all day?”

“Something like that,” I say, leaning against the truck.

She stands, brushing her hands on her pants, and walks toward me. The sunlight hits her just right, highlighting the flush in her cheeks, the curve of her lips.

“You’re lucky,” she says softly. “Living out here, away from everything.”

“Has its perks,” I say, my voice rougher than I intended.

Her gaze lingers on me, and for a second, I swear she’s thinking the same thing I am. Then she looks away, and the moment’s gone.

“Come on,” I say, stepping back and clearing my throat. “Next stop’s the creek. You’ll love it.”

She tilts her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “Is it as peaceful as this?”

“Better. You’ll see.”

At the creek, she kneels by the edge, her fingers skimming the surface of the water.

The way she moves—light, deliberate, unhurried—makes it seem like she belongs here, like the mountains whispered her name long before she ever set foot on their trails.

It’s as if this place has claimed her, the same way it claimed me.

She seems like she has no worry in the world, and she won’t if she stays with me.

“It’s so clear,” she says, marvelling at the way the water rushes over the rocks.

I don’t respond. Too busy watching her. The way her shirt clings to her back, her curves outlined in a way that drives me half-mad. Her hiking pants hug her hips just right, and my hands itch to grab her. To claim her. To haul her into my lap and make her mine in every way that counts.

She leans farther over the edge, her hair spilling down like a cascade of silk, and I step closer, instincts screaming at me to keep her safe. Protect her. Keep her within reach.

“You’re staring,” she says, glancing back at me with a teasing smile.

“Am not.”

“Are too.” She grins, playful and carefree, and it’s like a punch straight to the chest.

I crouch beside her, close enough to catch the soft scent of her skin, close enough to see the way her breath quickens.

Her fingers dance over the water, creating tiny ripples that shimmer in the sunlight, and I can’t help but think she belongs here—like the mountains called her home, the same way they called me.

“You’re a mystery, you know that?” she says, her voice lighter, teasing. “What makes you tick, Cole?”

The corner of my mouth twitches, a slow grin threatening to form. “What makes me tick?”

She dips her head, glancing up at me from under those lashes, her smile all playful innocence. But there’s a spark in her eyes that tells me she’s enjoying this. “Yeah. Big mountain man, all gruff and growly. What gets you going?”

You. In this creek, on your knees, looking at me like that while I show you exactly what gets me going.

I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. “Quiet mornings. Strong coffee. People who know when to quit poking the bear.”

Her laugh is soft, melodic. “Guess that means I’m out of luck.”

“Seems like it,” I say, but my voice is rough, betraying just how much I want her to keep poking. To keep looking at me like she is now—like she’s daring me to do something about it.

She leans back on her hands, her body arching slightly as the sun catches in her hair. “You’ve got to give me something better than that,” she presses, her tone light, but her gaze sharp. “What really makes you tick?”

I lean in, just enough to let her feel the weight of my presence, enough to watch her breath hitch. “I like things simple, Sadie,” I say, my voice dropping. “Things that feel… right.”

Her lip’s part, the teasing glimmer in her eyes softening. “And does this feel right?”

Every damn inch of it. “You tell me.”

For a second, we just sit there, the sound of the creek filling the air between us. Her cheeks flush, and she dips her hand back into the water, breaking the moment.

“You must be hungry,” I say, standing abruptly before I do something stupid, like haul her into my arms and kiss her until she forgets why she ever thought the city was worth going back to. Hell, I’m starving—just not for food. “There’s a diner in town. Best cherry pie you’ll ever taste.”

She glances up at me, her lips curving into a smile. “Pie? After all this soul-searching, you’re tempting me with pie?”

I shrug, the grin I’ve been holding back finally breaking free. “What can I say? A man’s got to eat.”

Her laugh is soft and genuine. “Okay. Lead the way.”

I offer her my hand to help her up, and when her fingers curl around mine, the jolt of heat is instant, sharp. I don’t let go until she’s steady on her feet, and even then, I have to force myself to step back.

This woman has no idea what she’s doing to me. But she will. Soon.

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the smile she’s trying to hide. “Is this a date, then?”

The words are playful, but they hit me like a damn freight train. A date. I like the way it sounds. Too much. “Sure,” I say gruffly. “Call it that if you want.”

Her cheeks flush, the pink spreading across her skin like wildfire. And just like that, I’m serious. Dead serious. Because if this is a date, then it’s the only one she’s having from now on.

The diner is quiet, the kind of place where the biggest drama is when someone forgot to bring a cake to the bake sale.

It’s why I like it. Everyone leaves you alone or at least they know to leave me alone.

It’s been my spot for years, a place to grab coffee and sit unnoticed.

But with Sadie across from me, it feels different.

Like the walls are closer, the air warmer.

“Cherry pie,” I say, pointing to the board. “Best thing on the menu.”

She orders a slice, and when it arrives, she takes a bite that makes her eyes flutter shut.

“Oh my God,” she moans, low and husky. “This is… amazing.”

I grip the edge of the table, my pulse spiking. She has no idea what that sound does to me, but if she keeps making it, I’m going to have to excuse myself before I do something about it.

“It’s just pie,” I manage.

“It’s not just pie,” she says, pointing her fork at me like she’s making a declaration. Another bite, and a bit of cherry filling clings to her lip.

I can’t stop staring. My tongue itches to lick it off, to taste her sweetness mixed with sugar. She catches me looking and smirks, her confidence hitting me like a gut punch.

“You’re quiet again,” she says, her fork pausing halfway to her mouth. Her eyes narrow slightly, playful but curious.

“Thinking.”

“About?”

You. Naked in my bed. My hands on your skin. And you moaning the same way you did when you tasted that pie.

I take a sip of coffee, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make her squirm. “About whether you could see yourself living out here. In the mountains.”

She blinks, caught off guard. “Living here? Like… permanently?”

I shrug, keeping my tone casual. “You said you came to figure things out. Can you see yourself in a place like this? Without the city breathing down your neck?”

Her gaze shifts to the window, where the peaks of the mountains cut into the horizon like jagged teeth. For a moment, she looks as if she’s imagining it—really imagining it. “I don’t know,” she says finally, her voice softer now. “I love it here, but it feels so far from… everything.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” I murmur, watching her closely.