Page 6 of Take Me, Tex (The Mountain Code #3)

Nora

I wake up warm.

That's the first thing I notice. Not just from the heavy quilt or the soft heat of Whiskey curled at my feet, her fur tickling my ankle, but from the furnace of a man wrapped around me—one strong arm slung across my waist like he's staking a claim, his chest pressed to my back, his breath slow and steady against the curve of my neck.

Tex.

Last night comes rushing back in a dizzy, delicious flood.

The way he looked at me like I was something sacred and wild all at once.

The way he touched me like he meant every second of it, like he was memorizing me with his hands.

The way I shattered in his arms—and the way he held me together after, whispering things against my skin that made me feel precious and wanted and completely his.

The way he fed me dinner and then carried me to his bed to make love to me again.

And again after that.

My whole body aches in the best way, a pleasant soreness that reminds me of every touch, every kiss, every moment of connection that felt like coming home.

I try to shift gently, but his arm tightens instinctively, pulling me even closer against the solid warmth of his chest. I can feel his heartbeat against my back, steady and sure, and smell the lingering scent of woodsmoke and pine on his skin.

"You tryin' to sneak out on me already?" he murmurs, his voice all gravel and heat, rough with sleep and something deeper.

I smile into the pillow, the fabric soft against my cheek. "Didn't think you'd want to cuddle."

"I just spent half the night inside you," he says, pressing a kiss to the back of my shoulder that makes me shiver. His lips are warm and slightly rough, and I can feel the scratch of his beard against my skin. "You think I'm lettin' you go that easy?"

A happy sigh escapes me before I can stop it, the sound practically purring with contentment.

We stay like that for a long time—wrapped up in each other, letting the world drift by outside the windows. No deadlines. No schedules. No expectations. Just warmth and safety and the perfect weight of his arm around my waist.

The morning light filters through the curtains, painting everything in shades of gold and amber, and I can hear birds singing outside—a cheerful chorus that sounds like celebration

Eventually, I peel myself away from his warmth and wander into the kitchen, wearing his T-shirt again and nothing else. The floorboards are cool beneath my bare feet, and I can feel his eyes following me as I move around his space like I belong here.

I find a sticky note on the counter, written in bold, masculine handwriting that somehow manages to be both confident and careful.

Called the parts guy this morning. Still on for Monday. You're mine 'til then. --T

I should laugh. Roll my eyes. Say something sarcastic about his presumption.

Instead, I press the note to my chest like an idiot, feeling something warm and bright unfurl in my ribcage.

Whiskey trots over with a tail wag that nearly knocks over a chair, and I crouch down to scratch behind her ears. Her fur is soft and warm, and she leans into my touch with a contented sigh.

"I think your dad's a little intense," I whisper, but there's no complaint in my voice.

She licks my hand with her rough pink tongue and flops onto her back for belly rubs, completely shameless in her demand for attention.

I make coffee in his simple coffee maker, then take it out to the porch and settle into the swing. The chains creak softly as I curl up with my legs tucked under me, just watching the mist burn off the treetops like the mountain is slowly waking up.

The view is breathtaking—rolling hills covered in every shade of green imaginable, with morning light filtering through the trees and turning everything golden.

And I realize I don't want to go back.

Not just because of what happened between us last night, though my body still hums with the memory of his hands on my skin. Not just because of the mountain air or the dog who's already stolen my heart with her gentle eyes and boundless affection.

Because of Tex.

I think I've been alone for so long I forgot what it feels like to be wanted . Not for my efficiency, not for my credentials, not for the way I can make a library run like clockwork.

Just... me.

Messy hair and morning breath and all the complicated, imperfect pieces that make up who I am.

When he comes out a little later, hair damp from the shower and wearing a T-shirt that hugs his chest in a way that should be illegal, he pauses in the doorway. The morning light catches in his dark hair, and his eyes are the color of storm clouds, soft and intense all at once.

"You okay?"

I nod, meaning it more than I've meant anything in a long time. "More than okay."

He crosses the porch in those long, easy strides, hooks a thumb under my chin, and tilts my face up to his. His skin is warm and slightly rough, and I can see the concern in his eyes, the careful way he's watching my expression.

"Nora…” His voice is thick with emotion, and he clears his throat. “I don’t want this to end on Monday.”

I shake my head slowly, holding his gaze. "I don’t want this to ever end.”

He leans in, brushing his lips over mine in a kiss that tastes like promise and possibility, then pulls back just enough to whisper:

"You stay alone... until the mountain sends you a woman."

I look at him, confused. “What?”

“It’s just something people around here say. They call it ‘The Mountain Code.’ I never believed in it… but now I do. The mountain sent you to me.”

My face stretches into a wide smile. "Well," I murmur, tugging him down for another kiss, "I hope it told you I'm staying."