There's a moment in every woman's life when she regrets wearing comfy cat-covered underwear rather than the sexy black panties tucked safely back home in her dresser drawer.
And for me, that moment is now—with my body sprawled on the sidewalk and the orange kittens I thought resembled Carrot prancing around on my cotton panties.
They were cute this morning. Punny even, but I failed to foresee running smack dab into a freaking oak tree and landing on my ass for all to view my clever choice of underwear.
“Here, take my hand. Are you okay?” A low baritone sweeps over me as a masculine hand comes into view. Glancing up—and up—my gaze finally lands on who I ran into: a giant of a man who looks like he can bench press my considerable weight with no problem. Heck, he could probably scale Black Mountain with me on his back without breaking a sweat.
Okay, that may be an exaggeration, but damn he’s huge.
I’ve seen my fair share of mountain men wandering around Suitor’s Crossing. Hard not to when you’re nestled against a mountain range covered in rustic cabins, providing the ideal home for plaid-wearing, axe-toting lumberjacks. But this guy takes the cake.
He must not frequent Main Street often either because I've never seen him before.
"Are you okay?" He repeats, his hand still waiting for mine. Blushing in embarrassment at my blatant staring, my head dips in a nod as I accept his help.
Dashes of black mottle the side of his thumb, and I wonder at its origin. Is it grease? Is he a mechanic? Different scenarios race through my flustered brain as he helps me to my feet.
"I'm fine, thanks. Sorry for bumping into you. I should've paid better attention to where I was going." And not searching my purse for the white gloves I told my blind date I'd be wearing.Speaking of which..."I hate to literally hit and run, but I'm meeting someone and have to go. I'm already late and I'm sure he thinks I'm a flake and he doesn't even know me yet and..."
The stranger squeezes my hand, which I realize he's still holding, amusement creeping into his brown eyes.
Damn, I was rambling.
Now, I'm breathless from over-talking… and falling… and this hot man's rough palm cradling my smaller one. It's a lot for a girl who's already nervous about meeting a stranger for her date tonight.
"Breathe, kitten." His other hand smooths a caught strand of hair off my forehead, and I shiver at the intimate touch. "You're worth the wait...TheCarrotsMeow?"
Shock burns away some of the embarrassment coursing through my veins. Just my luck—crashing into my potentialheart sparklike an uncontrolled vehicle flying down the highway. "ForgedByFire? You're my match?"
He bends to pick up a slightly crushed red carnation, offering it to me with a confident grin. "Guilty."
Heart sparks.
Suitor’s Crossing's legend of love come to life.
I've always believed in it. Envied the happy couples who had it. But in the back of my mind, there's been a well of doubt that's deepened each time another one of my friends found love, while I settled for the rare match on an app.
Doesn't matter now.
Because I only need one match.
Thematch.
And I might have just found him.
Reluctantly pulling my hand from his, my chin ducks down as I focus on straightening my skirt and brushing off any lingering dirt clinging to my backside. "What's your name? I'm Willow."
“Rhys.”
Wait, that sounds familiar. I pause and glance upward to meet his friendly gaze. “Rhys? As in the guy who made Hannah Welsh’s engagement ring?”
“Yeah, I’m friends with King. I’m guessing you’re friends with her?”
I nod, marveling at small-town magic, and motion toward Daffodil’s which looks pretty full. “Should we grab a table inside? We can talk more when my legs aren’t about to freeze to death in this skirt.”
“Well, we can’t have that.” Rhys smiles and steps back for me to go ahead of him. “Ladies first.”
Scooting by him in the narrow entryway, my back grazes his broad chest, and a shiver of awareness erupts over my skin. This is the first time a man’s had this immediate effect on my body, and it’s exhilarating.
