Cryptic mountain man.
The cabin feels different now. Smaller and warmer and charged with possibility.
He stops by the couch, and I see him brace himself for another night of folding his massive frame into that too-small space.
“Tank.”
“Yeah?”
“The couch is going to ruin your back.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” I hesitate, then push forward before I lose my nerve. “The bed’s big enough for two. And I promise not to compromise your virtue. Much.”
His laugh rumbles through the small space, low and warm. But he doesn’t move toward the bedroom.
“Jessie.” He says my name like it costs him something. “If I get in that bed with you tonight, I’m not going to want to leave it.”
Oh.
Oh.
“And when I do this right”—his eyes drop to my mouth, then back up, dark and deliberate—“it’s not going to be because you're grateful, or overwhelmed, or running on adrenaline.”
“That’s very… chivalrous of you.” My voice comes out breathier than I’d like.
He steps closer, and the room suddenly feels very small. “When you end up in my bed, Smudge, I want you tochooseit. Clear-headed. No excuses. No take-backs.”
When.Not if, but when.
“You’re very confident.”
A slow smile spreads across his face, doing dangerous things to my resolve. “Goodnight, Jessie.”
He settles onto the couch, which creaks in protest, and I retreat to the bed on unsteady legs.
I lie there in the dark, listening to him shift and resettle, and realize I’m not offended.
I’mcounting down.
And I’m starting to be okay with that.
Chapter 5
Jessie
Tuesday morning arrives with the smell of bacon and the shrill ring of Tank’s phone.
I’m at the stove making pancakes again, because apparently that’s our thing now, when the sound cuts through the quiet. Tank’s been outside doing something aggressively competent with an axe, but he must have come in while I was focused on the batter. On not thinking about how his mouth felt against mine on Sunday night. On definitely not replaying the way he groaned when I pulled him closer.
Focus, Jessie. Pancakes.
“Tank Granger.” His deep voice rumbles from somewhere behind me. A pause. “Yeah, this is him.”
I flip a pancake, only half-listening. Probably work stuff. Lumber orders. Mountain man business.
“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”
