“Joely.” The way he said my name hit me low in the gut. It was part scolding, part demand, but definitely wasn’t a question. “If you want to smell like skunk, that’s fine with me. It ought to wear off by itself in a couple months.”
A couple months? Ugh. Why had I taken this assignment? I should have stayed in the city where the worst thing I could get sprayed with was a rogue sprinkler.
“I’ll just wait until you’re finished.” That would be better. He could take his chiseled self back to his cabin, and I’d have the whole creek to myself.
He shook his head like he couldn’t believe I didn’t want to get naked with him. Then he lathered up with Nellie’s scrub and spent the next ten minutes scrubbing every inch of his kissed-by-the-sun skin. I sat down on the stinky blanket, pulled my legs up and rested my chin on my knees while I tried not to stare as the washcloth glided over his tanned arms and broad shoulders.
When he was done, he walked right out of the water like he didn’t have a care in the world, grabbed a towel, and secured it around his waist. Water droplets glistened on his chest. The situation was so over the top, I almost wanted to laugh. I imagined the titles I could use for my article. “The best way to get a mountain man naked” or “What’s really underneath the flannel of Montana’s mountain men.”
Neither of those angles would land me on the list for a coveted journalistic award, though my chances of that imploded when my career went off the rails.
“Your turn.” Thatcher’s deep voice dragged my attention back to the creek, reminding me I was still covered in skunk stink. “You want me to wait to make sure nothing happens?”
“I’m pretty sure I can handle it.” Now that he was semi-covered, it seemed safe enough to look him in the eye.
“Alright.” He rolled his things up in the blanket and held it away from his skin. “I’m going to go get dressed. I’ll bring you something to put on after you get out.”
Something to put on… my pulse spiked. I’d been so preoccupied by taking my clothes off that I hadn’t given any thought to what I’d put on after a dip in the creek. Unless I wanted to walk back to the cabin in a towel, I’d be wearing something of Thatcher’s. “Thanks. That would be great.”
He nodded and headed down the trail leading back to his cabin. Bear jumped out of the creek to follow, but Thatcher turned back and pointed at him. “Stay here.”
The dog slowly moved toward me then dropped down to his belly and rested his huge head on his paws.
“He’ll keep an eye on you while you clean up,” Thatcher said. Without another word, he disappeared down the path, leaving me alone.
First, I peeled off my jeans, then my shirt. I lifted the strap of my sports bra, hoping the skunk smell hadn’t soaked in, but it smelled just as bad as everything else. Groaning, I tossed my bra and my underwear onto the blanket, grabbed the scrub and a washcloth, and dipped my toe into the water.
It probably would have been warmer stepping into the Arctic Ocean. My teeth started to chatter as I forced myself to move toward the middle of the creek. As quickly as possible, I ducked under the water then scrubbed every inch of my skin and hair with Nellie’s skunk scrub. My fingers were so cold they’d gone numb, and I stumbled on the rocks on the bottom of the creek as I rinsed off and made my way back to the bank.
One second, I was standing upright then my foot slipped on a slimy rock. My head went under, and I struggled to get my footing on the slick bottom. The current hadn’t felt very strong when I had my feet under me but now it swept me along. I couldn’t end like this, drowning in four feet of ice-cold mountain spring water.
Bear ran along the bank, his barks echoing off the mountains. I gasped for air before I got pulled under again, my fingers scraping roots and rotten wood, searching for something to hold onto.
Then strong arms locked around me, holding me in place. The creek flowed around Thatcher as he stood in the center of it like a boulder. He picked me up like I didn’t weigh any more than a feather and carried me back to where he’d left the towels.
I was too cold and way too embarrassed to say a word. With my arms crossed over my boobs, I tried to make myself as small as possible.
Maybe this was just a bad dream. A horrible, awful nightmare that I’d wake up from any second. I pinched myself and winced. No, this was definitely happening. I’d been plucked out of a shallow creek, as naked as the day I was born, and hauled back to safety by a man who looked like he could split mountains in half with his bare hands.
Speaking of those hands, as my skin thawed, I could feel one pressing against my upper arm, not too far from my right breast. Tingles raced through me and heat pooled in my core. Thatcher bent down with me still in his arms and grabbed a towel. He tossed it over me and headed down the trail to his cabin.
Looked like I was going home with the mountain man.
CHAPTER 5
THATCHER
I was fucked. Not just a little fucked, but totally, irreparably fucked now that I’d seen every perfect inch of Joely. Not to mention how it had felt to have my hands on her soft skin and to have her curves pressed against me. Thank fuck she’d been so startled when I pulled her out of the creek that she hadn’t noticed how hard I’d been.
Now she sat at the table, her hands wrapped around one of my mugs, her thick hips covered in a pair of my sweats, and her nipples taut against one of my t-shirts. I ran my fingers through my hair wondering how my life had come to this. For a man who tried to avoid any and all unnecessary interactions, I’d been rendered speechless by the curvy brunette. And now that I knew what it felt like to hold her in my arms, I was already craving it again.
“Thanks for pulling me from the creek. Do you make a habit out of saving tourists?” She bit down on her bottom lip, embarrassed but still trying to make light of the situation.
“Not if I can help it. I usually stay to myself.”
“If you’re going for a reclusive mountain man vibe, you’ve definitely nailed it.” She held out her mug to clink against mine.
I shook my head, unwilling to encourage her. It was going to be difficult enough to watch her walk away without giving in to her sunny disposition. “I’m not going for anything. Just being myself.”
