Page 5 of The Mountain Man’s Curvy Obsession (Mountain Man Sanctuary #15)

Chapter four

The rain’s coming down in sheets now, hammering the windshield of my truck so hard the wipers can barely keep up. It’s getting dark fast. If this storm gets any worse, it’ll be pure hell out there tonight.

I’m exhausted, my shoulders ache from my early shift, and as much as it bothers me to admit, I’m looking forward to seeing Eva when I get home.

She’s more gorgeous than she ever was. Smells just as sexy and sweet too.

We never actually went all the way, but God, did I want her.

We were obsessed with each other—did everything but the deed.

We had fun for most of the three years we were a couple. If she hadn’t been so bossy all the time and such a nag, who knows? Maybe we would’ve stayed together, but I just won’t tolerate being micromanaged. I saw the writing on the wall and knew we’d never work out in the end.

Zephyr said I was rough on her at breakfast, but what does he know? He isn’t the one who had his ex-girlfriend show up at his door after six years, expecting him to marry her.

Still, the biscuits she made this morning were amazing.

Those, along with the eggs and sausages—I’m a reasonable man.

It doesn’t take much to make me happy. And that shy smile she gave me before I left, when she asked me to be careful—it’s been stuck in my head all day.

Maybe she’ll have dinner ready? Hell, I’d settle for just seeing her face.

But now I’m remembering her tears and the way her voice cracked when she told me I was her only option and she had no place to go. Fuck. What a shitshow. I didn’t mean to make her cry.

My tires crunch and slide over the gravel drive, kicking up muddy sprays as I pull up to the cabin. Then the house goes pitch black. Perfect. The power’s out.

I curse under my breath, knowing it’ll be all hands-on deck tonight if the storm takes down any lines or trees.

My pager hasn’t gone off yet. There are no alerts, which is a good sign.

We’ve got enough crew on duty to handle whatever comes our way.

I made sure of it this morning when the weather report turned grim, and scheduled extra guys, just in case.

I shove open the truck door. The icy rain stings my face like needles as I jog to the cabin.

My boots thud against the porch, shaking loose clumps of mud.

Inside, the air’s damp and smells faintly of pine and the cedar candle she insisted we burn over pizza last night.

I grab the flashlight off the hook by the light switch and flick it on.

The beam cuts through the gloom. “Eva!” My voice echoes in the empty house.

“You okay in the dark back there?” No answer.

My stomach twists as I storm down the hall with the floorboards creaking. Her bedroom door’s wide open, and I poke my head in, half-expecting to see her curled up with a book. Her bags are still here, zipped up and leaning against the wall, but the bed’s untouched. No Eva .

Adrenaline spikes through me, sharp and electric, as I check the bathroom—empty. I swing into the kitchen, even though I know she isn’t there because I would’ve seen her from the door. The counters are bare, with no sign of dinner prep, just the faint scent of coffee.

“Eva!” My shout rattles the windows, louder than the storm outside. I search the sunroom porch where I crashed last night, the lumpy couch still holds the shape of my restless sleep. Nothing.

Now I’m worried. When I told her to check out the Grizzly Grind this morning, I meant in the daylight, not when it’s almost dark with the wind howling, in this mess.

She’s not used to these mountains or storms like this anymore.

I picture her out there, lost in the wilderness, and my chest tightens.

I don’t bother peeling off my uniform. The layers—flannel, fleece, raincoat—keep me warm, and my jacket’s inner pockets are stocked for emergencies: matches, a knife, bear spray.

Not that the bears would be dumb enough to roam in this downpour.

I head back out, the storm slamming into me the second I’m off the porch.

Rain pelts my hood as I take the trail I pointed her to this morning, cupping my hands around my mouth.

“Eva!” The downpour drowns my voice, and I try again, louder, “Eva!” My flashlight beam swings left and right, catching glistening pine needles and slick rocks, but no Eva.

The trail’s a muddy mess, and I push forward, my boots sinking with every step.

The windows are black at the Grizzly Grind; the door is locked tight. Not a soul in sight.

“Eva!” My heart’s pounding now with a sick dread. What if she’s hurt? Twisted an ankle? Or worse? I double back to the trail, veering off into the forest, searching for her tracks in the soaking pine needles for over an hour.

I’m no expert tracker—but I know enough to look for broken twigs or disturbed earth. Nothing. The rain’s erased any trace of her, like she was never here. My breath comes in sharp bursts, fogging in the cold air. “Eva!” I yell at the top of my lungs. “Eva! Where are you?”

“Slade!” A faint, but unmistakable voice slices through the wind. I freeze, tilting my head to pinpoint it. She calls again from the north. Eva’s close. Relief crashes over me, but this isn’t over yet.

“Eva! Stay where you are! Don’t move, I’m coming!” I shout, plunging into the trees. My flashlight bounces wildly as I run. The forest closes in on me, branches snag my sleeves, and I have to fight my way through, until I see a form huddled near shrubs and a large rock. Thank God.

“Slade!” She rises and waves both arms, flagging me down.

“I’ve got you!” I cover the distance to her quickly. She’s wearing a coat, but it’s soaked through and not nearly heavy enough to keep her warm.

“I’m so happy to see your face!” She shouts, and I know she means it. All thoughts of past arguments are gone as she presses herself flush against me for a tight, desperate hug. “Thank you, thank you.”

I hold her tightly, inhaling her sweet scent and nuzzle next to her ear. “I wouldn’t leave you out here. I’d never do that.” I break from the hug and inspect her, raising my voice over the wind. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“You didn’t slip or fall?”

“I’m fine,” she says so softly I can barely hear. “I was just lost and scared to death.”

I wrap my arm around her, not thinking twice.

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’m here.

I won’t let anything happen to you.” She peeks up at me silently with those mercurial grey eyes of hers, and I see relief.

I know these woods like the back of my hand, but even I need a minute to get my bearings.

“There,” I point. “Let’s make our way to that huge boulder. We can take shelter.”

I’ve used this cave before. It provides ample cover, and it’s shallow and easy to check for critters before we duck inside. Eva’s shivering, her jacket’s soaked through, her face looks even paler in the beam of my flashlight. She’s here, safe, but we’re not out of the woods—literally.

We need warmth, and fast. I’ve got tools, years of working in storms behind my belt, and a stubborn streak that won’t allow us to freeze tonight.

I pick a spot near the back, where the ceiling’s high enough for the smoke to rise.

Scrounging the floor, I gather dry leaves and twigs, and with my folding knife, I shave curls from the most brittle roots I can find.

I rummage through my layers of pockets and take out a crumpled notepad—outage reports I won’t miss—and tear the pages for tinder, building a teepee of sticks over it.

Eva watches as I remove the waterproof match case from my jacket.

The match flares with a hiss, and I shield it from the cave’s draft, touching it to the paper and leaves.

They catch, crackling as flames lick the twigs, casting a warm glow on her face.

She scoots closer, her eyes softening with relief.

The fire’s stronger now, pushing back the chill. “Better?” I sound gruffer than I mean to. I’m not good at soft, never have been, but something about her tonight makes me want to try.

She nods, her smile dancing like the firelight. “Yeah, much.” Her voice is still small but steady. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come along.”

I shift, sitting back on my heels, feeling the fire’s warmth seep into my hands. “What happened out there? Why were you even out in this mess?” Her fingers fidget with the hem of her jacket, and she glances down, like she’s embarrassed.

“I went to visit your mom at the Grizzly Grind. It was great seeing her.” She breaks into a smile.

“We had a really good talk and caught up. It was only drizzling when I left the cabin, and I had the bear spray.” She opens her pocket, the canister clinks as she gives me a glimpse and shoves it back.

“I thought I’d be fine. But then the clouds rolled in, and it got dark, fast …

The rain was coming down so hard, and I …

I’m not sure what happened, but I lost the trail and got completely turned around.

” Her voice cracks, but Eva’s holding it together.

“It happens out here. Even to people who know better. Don’t beat yourself up.” I’ve seen her like this before—teetering on the edge of guilt—and I hate it. She’s always been too hard on herself.

Her gaze locks onto mine, and there’s something raw behind her eyes that stabs me with guilt.

“I thought about what you said last night. You were right. I shouldn’t have assumed I could just …

show up and live with you when the mail-order bride thing fell apart.

It’s my fault I didn’t have a backup plan, not yours.

” Her words hit like a punch I didn’t see coming.

Last night’s argument flashes in my mind—I was harsh, no doubt, too much of an ass — and I don’t want to rehash it, not now.

Not when she’s probably on the brink of hypothermia, stuck in a cave.

“Your teeth are chattering.” I dodge the subject, reach into my pocket and pull out an emergency aluminum thermal blanket.

“Take that jacket off. It’s sopping wet.

We’ll dry it while we wait for the storm to pass.

” She hesitates, then meets my eyes, her fingers fumbling with the buttons.

She peels off the soggy denim, and hands it to me, heavy with rain.

“Here,” I say, passing her the blanket. “Wrap this around you. Trap the heat.”

Using my paracord, I rig a quick drying line near the fire, knotting it between two jutting rocks. She watches me hang her jacket in silence.

“What else do you have in those pockets of yours, Slade?”

I chuckle and ease closer. “You’d be surprised.

” I’m wearing a heavy jacket, a utility vest, and a raincoat to keep everything dry.

“After years of getting stuck in storms, you learn what to carry.” My eyes drift to her, and I can’t look away.

Maybe it’s the relief of finding her, or the fear of what could’ve happened if I hadn’t, but she looks different in the firelight—she’s never seemed so fragile. My voice softens. “You’re still cold.”

I shrug off my raincoat, peel off the vest full of gear, and drape my heavy jacket over her shoulders, on top of the foil blanket.

My hands linger, rubbing her arms through the layers.

She’s so close, I feel her breath on my chin.

It’s her . My cock swells with recognition. It’s us, like it used to be.

“You remember how we used to warm up sometimes?” The words slip out, low and rough, before I can stop them.

She pulls back to peer up at me, her eyes searching mine.

A small, knowing smile curves her lips. “We warmed up pretty well, as I recall.” That’s all it takes.

The urge to kiss her hits like a lightning strike, raw and undeniable.

I slowly slide my hand from her arm to the curve of her jaw.

I cup her cheek, drawing her full, beautiful lips closer to mine.

I can’t resist. I bend and kiss her, gently at first, until every fight, every year, every mile between us melts away.

She glides her hands over my shoulders, and around my neck, pulling me nearer, opening her mouth for me as I deepen the kiss. Eva lets out a wistful moan. “We were really good at warming each other up.”

“We still are, baby girl,” I say in a jagged tone with my cock throbbing against my zipper.

I trail kisses along her jawline, down her neck, savoring every bit of her.

She smells like fucking heaven, and my need for her is getting desperate.

I slide my hand under her shirt, feeling the warmth of her skin against my palm.

My God, she’s so soft, so smooth—I’ve missed having Eva in my life.

Looking back, I don’t think I ever stopped loving her.

Just because we weren’t together, doesn’t mean she wasn’t there, always, somewhere, in my heart.

I kiss her fiercely, not hiding how much I want her, and let my primal instincts take over, drowning out any thought other than Eva.

“Wait!” she suddenly pulls away and looks up at me in shock. “What are we doing?”

“We were kissing, darlin’.” I grin, wrapping my arms back around her and pulling her against me. She responds by gripping my forearms and breaking out of my hold.

“We can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

She stares at me incredulously. “Because you threw me out of your house. You don’t want anything to do with me. You were going to give me cash and drive me to the train station so I could make up with my boyfriend as if that were possible, or something I’d even consider. Remember?”

Shit. I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “About that. I’m sorry. I was very harsh.”

She shakes her head, quick and dismissively, her expression softening just a fraction. “Please don’t apologize. I get it. You weren’t expecting your ex-girlfriend to show up knocking on your door. I understand how I made you feel so uncomfortable.”

I raise an eyebrow, surprised. “You do? You seemed pretty upset about it over breakfast.”

Her lips curve into a small, self-satisfied smile.

“But then I had a heart-to-heart with your mom.” She pauses, letting the words sink in, her grin widening.

“And we worked out the problem together. So, I have some good news for a change.” She straightens, lifting her chin triumphantly.

“I’m moving into your mom’s house and will pay rent by working for her at the shop. ”

My brain goes blank for a moment, while I digest what she's saying. She’s living with my mother now? What the hell? How is that supposed to help me win her back?