Page 11 of The Mountain Man’s Retribution (Summer in the Pines #7)

Chapter Ten

FAWN

A s he drives, Bodie reaches across the console, taking my hand and squeezing it. I instantly relax, face beaming.

He observes, “You’re much less anxious about today when I touch you. It comforts you, doesn’t it?’

“It makes me feel strong, independent, like I’m drawing some of your power and making it my own.”

The mountain man chuckles softly, reminding, “It’s not my strength or power you’re feeling, it’s your own. Today will be good. I promise.” He brings my hand to his mouth, gently kissing my fingertips until my heart booms like the tambourine I keep rhythm with during our nightly sing-alongs.

“You make me feel so good, Bodie. How have I gone all these years without your touch?”

He presses the top of my hand to his lips before setting it back on the console. “Stick shift,” he explains, doing something with a lever at the steering wheel.

“You make me feel good, too, Fawn. Like you were made for my hands and my arms,” the man says, surprising me with his romantic words.

“And your heart?” I add, side-eyeing him.

His warm eyes find mine. “And my heart,” he admits for the first time since our meeting. The happy sentiment hangs in the air for a delicious moment until Bodie says, “I’m thirty-eight. Do you know how old you are, Fawn?”

I straighten, shifting slightly in my seat.

I know he doesn’t mean to, but his question hits a place I’d rather not think about.

The memories before Big Man, the ones that used to leave me sobbing for hours before I buried them deep like hidden treasure.

“Big Man said twenty-three or thereabouts. He took me when I was five.”

“Took you,” Bodie says, gripping the steering wheel so tightly I can hear it groan. “From other mountain people? Or maybe the town?”

“The town,” I whisper so softly that he leans closer. I repeat more loudly, “The town. Where he said my people are.”

“Remember anything about your townspeople?” He grunts with a sideways glance.

Voice shaking, I say, “Pretty woman with kind brown eyes, short hair cut to the shoulders but curly like mine. Handsome man with bright, straight, white teeth. No beard.” I laugh, hardly able to believe the memory.

“Their names?”

I shake my head more firmly, pressing my lips together. “The man seemed grown but with no beard. How is that possible?”

Bodie pulls over on an embankment along the roadside, pushing the console separating us away, unbuckling my seatbelt, and pulling me tightly against him. “God, Fawn,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I will do whatever it takes to help you find your people in town?—”

I gasp at the word “town,” trying to pull away, but he holds me more tightly, his grip as strong as steel.

“When you’re ready.”

“When I am ready,” I repeat, inhaling his wonderful foresty smell and resting my head on his broad chest. The throb of his powerful heartbeat calms me.

Burying his head in the crook of my neck and showering me in kisses, he teases, “I hope you like older men.”

“I like one older man.” I smile, losing myself in his warm, swirling brown eyes.

I lean closer for a fortifying kiss, melting as his robust lips mate with mine, and his tongue sweeps into my mouth. When I pull back, squeezing his hand, I say, “I feel brave now. Ready to meet your people.”

Bodie smiles, hugging me and kissing the top of my head. “Use the middle seat if you like,” he offers. “You’ll have the answer to your question about men and beards shortly.”

I nod, and he helps me thread the belt over my shoulder and across my waist, clicking it into place. Despite the terrain blurred by speed and seeing more of the world in ten minutes than I have in nearly two decades, I feel confident with the mountain man’s leg pressed against mine.

At the first stop, he pats my hand, saying, “If you prefer to stay in the vehicle at first, that’s fine.

But I want you to watch my interactions.

That way, you can ease into what we’re doing today.

” I notice how he speaks more freely now, his sentences not so short and percussive.

I am drawing him out even as he is drawing me out.

I nod, heart in my throat and torn between my need to be by Bodie’s side and my desperation to hide from the world. He smiles a knowing smile, and I will myself to trust.

I watch him greet an elderly man with gray hair and no beard, walking with a cane. I eye the man curiously, amazed by the sight of bare cheeks and the feeling of vindication. My memory was accurate. They speak in curt, choppy sentences and grunts until they head to the back of the truck to barter.

Snippets of their conversation carry inside the truck.

“Pretty girl.”

“My homesteading partner.”

“Hopefully more?”

A timid chuckle from Bodie.

“Bout time to settle down.”

“Agreed. If she’ll have me.” My cheeks burn. How could he doubt my desire?

The visits continue along this same vein until we pull up to a pretty little cabin with a red truck out front. The pickup bed is covered by a hard shell. Bodie rounds the vehicle, opens my door, and offers his hand. “This one, you must come in for.”

“Really?” I question, my mouth instantly dry. He nods, comfortingly. “I’ll hold your hand if it helps.”

I nod, working hard to keep my face calm. Walking up the porch stairs, my knees feel shaky and weak.

Bodie knocks on the door a few times until we hear an old woman hollering, “Coming! One minute!”

A lady wearing a brown and purple floral apron, leaning against a metal device with wheels on the bottom, answers.

I eye the mountain man, whispering, “What does she lean on?”

“A walker.”

The woman scowls. “About time you showed up.” She looks angrier than a kicked hornet’s nest.

“This is always the day of the week I barter and trade,” he says.

She opens her mouth to say more when her eyes settle on me. “And who is this?”

“My homesteading partner, Fawn.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl. But your clothes,” she laments, shaking her head.

“Mrs. McCartney, I’m also hoping to barter with you for some clothes from your store for my homesteading partner. Would that be alright?”

“Oh, from the store? Well, it’s been a while since I retired, you know. So, they may be slightly out of date.” She eyes me as though she’s doing measurements in her head. “But yes, I think we could find some nice things.”

“Good,” the mountain man says, releasing my hand. “I’ll go grab some eggs and meat—” My hand seizes his, and I eye him nervously, reminding him of his promise.

He looks down, catching himself. “Actually, we’ll all look together and then square up afterward.”

She shrugs, grimacing. Shuffling the length of her cabin, she bids us follow, throwing open a back bedroom door filled with clothes. Full closets, full bed, every inch covered. “Help yourself to anything you fancy,” she invites, glaring at us.

Her mouth tightens, and she snarls, “Surely, you would like some privacy?”

But I cling to Bodie’s hand, shaking my head.

The mountain man replies gruffly, “Fawn is a bit shy. I’ll stay with her.”

The woman mutters under her breath, walking away, “Kids these days.”

Bodie closes the door, and I eye the chaotic room, feeling overwhelmed. The giant mountain man looks no more comfortable. Letting out a long breath that puffs out his cheeks, he says, “Let’s start with finding what fits, and then you can decide what you’d like.”

Dropping the jogging pants to the ground and struggling out of my top, I stand naked before my burly giant, watching his eyes dilate and his nostrils flare.

He licks his lips slowly, letting his eyes linger over me more thoroughly today, like a hungry wolf.

My heart races, challenging the handsome, strong man to want me as much as I need him.

The melting swirl of his eyes bears all the evidence I require.

“I can barely think,” he murmurs, running his hand over his face and turning to the clothes. “Focus, Bodie. Focus on the fucking clothes.”

Every part of my body aches to reach out and touch him, but I remain well aware we are in a stranger’s home. So I work quickly, trying on the things he hands me until we have a neat, folded pile of clothes that makes me smile.

Bodie grins too, eyeing the last outfit I wear—a pretty blue sundress that he calls periwinkle, with big, splashy flowers on the front. The bottom hem hits just above my knees, and he grabs a light denim jacket to go with it, along with a tan pair of embroidered cowboy boots that fit perfectly.

“You’re breathtaking,” he says warmly, crossing his arms and devouring me with his eyes. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you,” I say, looking down at my hands.

“We’ll order you underwear and bras online because I don’t see anything suitable here.” Drawing closer, he says against the shell of my ear, hot breath making my body sizzle, “I want to eat you tonight, Fawn. Every little bit of you. If you would like that?”

I lean back on my heels, eyeing him confusedly, and he chuckles deeply.

“Don’t worry, little elf. It’s a good thing. Something you’ll love.”

“Will it hurt?” I ask, knitting my brows.

“Only for me. For you, it’ll be pure pleasure.”

“But why will it hurt you?” I ask, concern flooding me.

“Because self-control can be painful sometimes. But it’s worth it with you.” He kisses my lips quickly but passionately.

Though his promises please me, my head spins. “Why the sudden change? I thought we had to wait?”

He wheels back around, pulling me tightly into his arms. “You were right earlier when you challenged me about opening my heart. About letting you under my skin. This past week, I’ve held back trying to do right by you, be your teacher and protector, not your lover.

But now I realize fear motivated me, fear that taking things to the next level would require a level of trust I’m not ready to give.

How can I demand faith and courage from you every damn day and not return the favor, though?

And who am I to deny the pull of nature and the pleasures we both crave? ”

“Yes.” I nod for emphasis, shivers of anticipation coursing through me.

He beams, stroking my cheek, eyes warm and tender. “Better go before Mrs. McCartney freaks out.”

Grabbing the large pile of clothes with his jogging suit on top, he dangles a pair of sneakers and strappy leather sandals from his fingers as I open the door, and he starts through.

My eyes dart to a shiny necklace I’ve been staring at ever since arriving in this room.

I’ve done it discreetly, not to look ungrateful to Bodie.

But he catches me, a smile lighting up his face.

“You want that silver and turquoise necklace, too?”

I nod, looking down timidly.

“Anything you want, Fawn. Remember what I said? There’s nothing I won’t do to make you happy.”

I grab it greedily, smiling from ear to ear as we walk back down the hallway. Mrs. McCartney sits on a barstool at her kitchen counter, eyeing us grimly. Suddenly, a door closes behind us, and I startle. Bodie looks back, furrowing his brows.

“Is somebody else here?” he asks.

She shakes her head, eyeing us with a steely gaze. “Just the breeze. Must’ve left the window open in there.”

I stare at my mountain man, registering the skepticism on his face.

The old woman makes a show of finding her feet again, pushing her walker as we head for the door.

“You still need a ramp, I see,” Bodie grumbles. “Your grandson coming around to help with things?”

The old woman nods, eyeing us both with a disgusted look. Appraising the pile of clothes, shoes, and what I wear, she offers, “Three dozen eggs and three rabbits?”

I hold up the necklace, and she eyes it carefully.

“Four dozen eggs, then?”

“Five,” Bodie says, and the woman’s eyes narrow. She opens her mouth, but he shakes his head, repeating, “Five … for your silence.”

She nods, narrowing her eyes.

“Heard about the fire in the backwoods?” he asks, and her face hardens. “Know any of the people affected by it?”

“Why?” She growls.

“I mean to take up a small charitable offering to help those affected.”

She shakes her head, blinking rapidly. “Folks need to do for themselves. No charity.”

An eerie silence settles like a heavy blanket.

“Come on,” Bodie suddenly urges, grabbing my hand and leading me to the truck. He throws the clothes and shoes in the backseat before helping me in. I scoot over to the middle seat, and he nods. “I’ll buckle you in when I return.”

I nod, hairs standing up on my neck as the old woman glares at me from the porch.

Retrieving the promised items from the coolers, Bodie takes them inside, disappearing for a moment with the old woman.

My heart stutters with him out of sight, but I close my eyes, willing myself to feel the warmth of his flesh on mine.

Opening my eyes again, I relax as he sprints back out, heading to the truck and climbing inside.