Page 6 of Rugged Mountain Man (Men of Ravencliff Mountain #1)

Sadie

Waking up in one of Cole’s cabins this morning felt like stepping into a dream.

The sunlight had spilled through the window, painting everything in soft gold, and the view outside—jagged peaks, endless sky, and trees dusted with morning mist—was the kind of picture postcards wish they could capture.

For a moment, I hadn’t cared about work or the city or the boss waiting to chew me out.

In fact, I’d forgotten all about it. My real life is suspended for these precious few days.

I wanted to immerse myself in this world, wholeheartedly.

Now, standing in his stable, the scent of hay thick in the air and the sound of the horses shifting in their stalls, I feel like my entire world has tilted.

Spending the day with Cole—watching him, listening to him, feeling his presence—has done something to me.

Making question everything about my life till this point.

Every moment near him is charged, like the air between us is holding a secret neither of us is ready to say out loud. He’s quiet, sure, but there’s a steadiness in his silence that makes me want to lean in, to get closer.

I’m twenty-three, and my experience with men?

Pretty much non-existent. I always told myself there’d be time later, that it wasn’t a priority.

But now, with Cole, I wonder if I was just waiting for him.

Because he’s made me feel things—things I didn’t even know I was capable of feeling.

And now I don’t know what to do with it. Or with him.

But right now I need to feed a horse.

I have a full bucket and edge towards the horse.

I knew I wasn’t going to be a horse whisperer right away, but I didn’t think I’d be this bad.

“Easy,” I murmur, holding out the bucket toward the chestnut mare, named Winnie. She doesn’t even flinch. Her ears twitch back, and then she snorts, stepping away like I’m holding a bomb instead of a feed bucket. “Oh, come on. I’m not that scary.”

From the corner of the stable, Cole chuckles. A low, deep sound that makes the hair on my arms stand up. “You’re holding it wrong.”

“How can you hold a bucket wrong?” I grumble, glancing over my shoulder. He’s leaning against the stall door, arms crossed, watching me with that half-smirk that’s equal parts frustrating and unfairly attractive.

“It’s not the bucket,” he says, stepping closer. “It’s you.”

“Gee, thanks,” I mutter, heat rising to my cheeks. “Real helpful.”

“You’re nervous. She feels it.” He moves beside me, his sheer size making me feel tiny in comparison. “Here, let me show you.”

He takes the bucket from my hands, his fingers brushing mine. It’s such a light touch, but it’s enough to send a spark straight up my arm. I step back, swallowing hard as he crouches in front of the mare.

“See how I’m holding it steady?” His voice is low, steady. “You need to be calm. Confident.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The way his broad shoulders stretch under his shirt, the way his hands—strong and rough—move with such care, has my stomach doing flips.

The mare sniffs the bucket, then takes a tentative bite. Cole doesn’t move, his patience unshakable. Slowly, she warms to him, eating without hesitation.

“Your turn,” he says, standing and handing the bucket back to me.

I hesitate, glancing at the mare, then at him. “What if she runs off?”

“She won’t,” he says firmly. “You’ve got this.”

And that’s what I do for much of the day—cleaning stables, feeding horses, getting my hands dirty in ways I never thought I’d enjoy.

It’s hard work, no doubt about it, but there’s a rhythm to it that feels grounding.

The sound of hooves shifting in the straw, the occasional soft nicker from one of the horses—it’s a kind of peace I didn’t even know I needed.

Somewhere in the quiet, it hits me. I’ve been so busy running on autopilot—selling houses, chasing quotas, sitting behind a desk day after day—that I forgot what it felt like to actually live. To breathe. To do something because it feels right, not because it’s expected.

How did I ever think that was enough? A life of deadlines and stress, of constantly scrambling to meet someone else’s expectations.

How do I go back to that after this? After watching the sunrise over the mountains, after feeling the honesty of this place seep into my bones, after being part of something real?

The answer is simple: I can’t.

For so long, I’ve been stuck in my own head, playing it safe, afraid to take risks or make waves. But out here, surrounded by the wild beauty of this life, I feel something shift inside me. Like I’ve been asleep, and now I’m finally waking up.

I want more.

More of this, more of life, more of everything I’ve been too scared to chase. I want to be bold. I want to take chances, to stop overthinking every decision and just… leap.

Maybe it’s the mountains. Maybe it’s Cole. But whatever it is, I’m starting to believe I’m capable of more than I ever let myself imagine.

Much later I’m on the last feed of the day.

I take a deep breath and step forward, holding the bucket as steadily as I can. The mare sniffs the air, her ears twitching, but she doesn’t back away. Her head dips, and she takes a bite. My breath rushes out in relief.

“See? Told you,” Cole says, a hint of pride in his voice. I turn around as he walks into the stable.

“Guess I had a good teacher,” I say, looking up at him.

Big mistake. The intensity in his eyes, the way they’re fixed on me like I’m the only thing that matters, steals the air from my lungs.

“Careful,” he murmurs, his voice dropping. “Keep looking at me like that, and she’ll think you’re distracted.”

I laugh nervously, stepping back. “Maybe I am.”

Before he can respond, a loud bang echoes through the stable. The mare startles, her head jerking up, and then she bolts out of nowhere.

“Oh no!” I shout, frozen as the mare bolts, her hooves churning up dirt. She’s a blur of panic, heading straight for the paddock.

“Stay here,” Cole orders, his voice calm but commanding.

He grabs a lead rope and strides after her, all power and precision.

My breath catches as I watch him, the way his broad shoulders shift, the confident set of his jaw.

He moves like he owns the world, and maybe he does—this part of it, anyway.

The mare circles the paddock, wild and frantic.

Cole doesn’t rush. He approaches slowly, speaking to her in a low, steady tone that I can’t quite hear but feel all the same.

My pulse races as I take in the flex of his arms, the dirt smudging his forearms, the sweat glistening on his skin.

He’s raw, untamed, and completely magnetic.

With one smooth motion, he loops the rope around her neck. She doesn’t fight him. She just... submits, like she knows she’s met her match.

Cole leads her back, his shirt clinging to him, his hair damp from exertion. He turns to me, his voice rough. “She’s good now.”

I swallow hard. That tinkling down there is back. God, how does he make this look so hot?

Cole turns to me, wiping his hands on his jeans, dirt smudged across his forearms and the front of his shirt clinging to his chest. The raw strength of him, the heat radiating off his body—it makes me forget how to breathe.

“She’s settled now,” he says, his voice rough, sending a shiver down my spine. He steps closer, his dark eyes scanning my face. “You okay?”

I nod, but my heart pounds so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. “That was... incredible,” I manage, my voice shaky. “You’re incredible.”

His lips twitch, the faintest hint of a smile. “Just doing what needs to be done.”

The air between us feels heavy, charged. His gaze lingers on my lips, and I swear the temperature in the stable just shot up ten degrees. My stomach flips.

“You’re still shaking,” he murmurs, stepping closer, his scent—earth and sweat—wrapping around me like a blanket. His hand lifts, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. His fingers linger, the calluses rough against my skin, and my breath catches.

“I’m fine,” I whisper, though my body trembles, every nerve attuned to him.

“Are you?” His voice is low, a rasp that sends a rush of heat through me. His thumb brushes over my cheekbone, and I lean into the touch before I can think better of it.

“Cole,” I murmur, his name a plea I don’t fully understand.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, his voice thick with restraint, but I can see it in his eyes—the fire, the need. And I don’t want him to stop.

“I won’t,” I whisper, my words barely audible, but they’re enough.

Cole doesn’t hesitate. His mouth comes down on mine, and it’s like I’ve been lit on fire. I gasp against him, but he doesn’t let me pull away. His hand cups the back of my head, angling me exactly how he wants, and his lips claim me like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.

I moan when his tongue slides into my mouth, stroking mine in a way that makes my knees weak.

His other hand grips my waist, pulling me against him, and I feel every hard inch of him pressed into me.

He’s solid, unyielding, and yet his touch is gentle enough to make my heart race.

My fingers find their way into his hair, tangling in the dark strands as I hold on for dear life.

“You’re so sweet,” he growls against my lips, his voice rough and low. “Like I knew you would be.”

My skin tingles, heat pooling low in my belly as his hands move over me—one sliding up my back, the other gripping my hip.

He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and I can’t help the whimper that escapes me.

His response is immediate, a low rumble in his chest as he presses me harder against the stable wall.

“Cole,” I whisper when his lips leave mine, trailing kisses down my jaw to my neck. I tilt my head back, giving him better access, and he takes full advantage. His teeth graze my skin, just enough to make me shiver, and then his tongue soothes the spot, driving me absolutely insane.

“Say my name again,” he murmurs against my neck, his breath hot and tantalizing. His hand slides up my side, grazing the curve of my breast, and I arch into him, my body desperate for more.

“Cole,” I breathe, my voice trembling with need. I can’t think, can’t speak. All I know is that I want him closer, need him closer.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his hands tightening on me as if to prove his point. “You don’t know it yet, but you’re mine, Sadie.”

The possessiveness in his voice sends a thrill racing through me. I should protest, should say something reasonable, but I can’t. Not when he’s kissing me like this, his lips and tongue claiming me in ways I didn’t know were possible.

His hand slides down, gripping my thigh, and he lifts me easily. My legs wrap around his waist, and I gasp at the feel of him—hard, hot, and completely overwhelming. His body presses into mine, pinning me against the wall, and I swear I’ve never felt anything so good in my life.

“Damn, you’re perfect,” he mutters, his lips brushing against my ear. His voice is rough, raw, and it makes my whole body hum with anticipation. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

I don’t. But I’m starting to understand. My fingers grip his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as he kisses me again, harder this time, more desperate. His hands roam over me, exploring, claiming, and I can’t get enough.

“Cole,” I whisper when we finally break apart, our breaths mingling in the cool stable air. “I…”

“Don’t talk,” he says, his forehead resting against mine. His voice is softer now, but the intensity in his gaze is anything but. “Just… let me.”

And I do. Because in this moment, there’s nothing else I want more. And I’m not sure if I can leave this place now.