¡Aye dios mio!Good lord! Camila told me all about how the mountain air and spring water seems to grow the men here huge and hot, but nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for what they look like. From the moment I parked down the main strip of Moonlit Pies, guy after guy was hotter than the last.
And I’m terribly shy.
Especially around good-looking men.
So, I did what a scaredy cat like me would do—I headed to what I assumed would be the safest spot, away from hunky men who made me trip up on my words, to ask for directions. I spotted a bakery down the road and figured that would be the best place. Hunky, giant men were probably not possible around carbs. I walked into the bakery and seriously liked the place immediately. It was cozy and welcoming. I assumed a sweet old lady would be at the counter, and I could ask her for help.
Was I wrong!
Devastatingly and completely, utterly wrong.
When a deep voice rumbled from the back, I paused, about to scramble out, but something about his voice made me stop. Ifound myself wanting to hear more, and I hadn’t even seen him. I overthought it too long, and there he was.
The biggest, most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on. Even wearing a hair net, he was captivating. And for a moment, we stood there staring at one another before I found my voice. With every second that had ticked away, I relaxed more and more.
And all the shyness and stammering I usually did around a good-looking guy faded away.
Somehow, I wasn’t sure how, because those moments in the bakery were a blur, I was completely myself around him. Sure, I was slightly nervous, but in an excited way. Then it felt like I blinked and somehow, I found myself inside his truck.
Talk about small world; I’d walked into my best friend’s future brother-in-law’s bakery.
Her very sexy giant, ginger of a mountain man of a future brother-in-law. Shame that alone makes him off limits. Not that I thought for a moment he might be interested. He was polite. Sweet even. But that’s what small-town charm is about, right? He’s probably that way with everyone. Because no matter what, life has taught me over and over that there’s absolutely nothing special about me.
“Thank you again for driving me,” I pipe up and say, trying not to let my nerves get the best of me as I try to avoid staring at him.
“You’re welcome.” His deep voice sounds velvety soft in the cab of his truck. I glance at him and find myself smiling, drawn to him like a magnet, or worse, like gravity. “Where are you staying?”
“Oh, umm, well…” I start to say slowly, because my stay, like the whole trip, I’m flying by the edge of my seat. Completely on a whim with no plans for the first time in my life. “Camila offered me her cabin,” I share, which is the truth.
But that’s my best friend for you. Completely generous. Camila would give you her last dollar; all you have to do is ask. We have been friends for a lifetime. She’s my family, and I’m hers. Though, her side is starting to grow now that she hooked up with her mountain man of a neighbor.
“The one across the street?” he asks as I look out the window, taking in the mountain views.
Moonlit Pines is beautiful. Huge trees,. I never knew they grew that high into the sky, so high they hide the sunshine and clouds above. But nowhere as breathtaking as the man next to me. Too good looking for his own good. I squirm on the seat next to him before sitting still and resting my hands on my thighs.
“Yeah.” I smile tightly, wishing I were the type of woman who knows how to flirt and lead an engaging conversation.
“It’s a great place,” he notes, and I look at him. Our eyes meet for just a moment before he returns his focus to the road. Why do I feel so excited and nervous around him yet at ease?
Maybe the long drive has done me in? Maybe everything I left behind, the whole mess, toyed with my head. At the thought, I frown and get lost in thoughts I wish I could brush off.
I love the desert I had been born and raised there. But everyday felt harder than the last. Lonelier. It’s expensive.
Not to mention the fact I’m single and the dating scene sucks.
Plus, there’s also the whole fact I’m the only twenty-five-year-old virgin left in probably the world. Guys there just want to hook up. Wham-bam-thank-you-ma’ams, shocked they have two to three baby mamas. Most, when they learn that isn’t what I’m about, leave. But others see it as a challenge. A quest.
Usually, I’m good at spotting those guys like a fake four-dollar bill.
But Jake slipped through.Jake the fake.
He was cute and charming. Kind.For the most part.He would be sweet and then another side of him would peekthrough. A side I didn’t like at all. He’d make comments about how pretty I was but how I’d be prettier if I lost weight and wore certain clothes. But for whatever reason, I shrugged off his comments. Maybe I did it because I was lonely and felt like I was getting to a point in my life where I didn’t want to be alone.
And he almost fooled me.
But then, three weeks ago, he tried to push for more. We’d been kissing when he pushed me down on the couch, and he didn’t like it when I told him no. He stood up, his face red with anger, and lost his shit. He wasreallyangry. Shouting I was nothing but a tease. That I needed to grow up. To give it up to him, because we both knew he could do better than a chubby girl like me.
Thankfully, my friend who lived in the studio apartment across mine knocked on the door before things got too heated and shooed him away. I owed her.
