“Or…” He trails off, and the uncertainty creeps back into his features. He looks down at the table, then back up at me, and what I see in his eyes makes my breath catch. He looks a little scared and so incredibly vulnerable. “Or you could stick around the cabin.”
“With you?” I whisper, momentarily forgetting how to breathe.
He nods, once. “I know it’s on the smaller size, but you can turn that room into your own. When my brother comes around, he can take the couch. I know we just met. But your company…” He pauses, searching for the right words. “It’s been a nice change. I thought I liked the silence until you stumbled upon my doorstep.”
A startled laugh escapes me. “Really?”
“The quiet used to be all I wanted. It was easy. Safe. But now, just thinking about going back to the way it used to be…” He shakes his head slowly. “Feels impossible.”
The butterflies in my stomach have evolved into a full-blown swarm. This man, this beautiful, solitary man who lives on a mountain, is telling me he doesn’t want to go back to his life before me. That he wants me to be a part of it.
“Abel…” His name is barely a breath on my lips.
He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing against mine. “I’m not good at this,” he admits, his voice soft enough for just my ears. “I’m not good at words. But I know that I don’t want you to leave.” He then glances around the diner. “People may give us certain looks, but if we’re on the mountain, none of that matters. I just want you near.”
He pauses and frowns before scoffing.
“No, that won’t be enough. I want you to be mine, Tatum.”
His words hit me harder than I’m sure he expects.
Nobody has ever said that to me. Not like this. Not with their whole chest, so sincerely that it’s enough to make my chest ache with longing.
My throat tightens. My eyes sting, just a little, and I have to blink rapidly to keep my emotions at bay.
“You want me to be yours,” I repeat, testing the weight of the words on my tongue.
His jaw tightens as he takes in my response. “Yeah. I do. But I also want you to have a choice.” He shifts, and I watch him steel himself, watch him gather up every ounce of courage in that broad chest of his. “So I guess I should ask you properly.” He squeezes my hand, his thumb pressing into my palm. “If you stay in my cabin, Tatum… are you staying as my roommate? Or my partner?”
The word partner hangs in the air between us, shimmering like something sacred, and I blush, because I’ve never been asked out like this before.
I don’t get flustered by much, but the way he’s looking at me, like I mean something—it heats my cheeks from the inside out. I can feel the warmth spreading, staining my neck, probably making me look like a tomato.
Abel’s eyes drink in my reaction, and his grip on my hand tightens before a low and rough groan leaves him.
“You have no idea what that blush does to me.”
I bite my lip, trying to suppress a smile, but it’s useless. I’m grinning like an idiot. Because this man—this gorgeous, quiet, mountain man—wants me to be his.Iwant to be his, too.
I want it so badly I can barely breathe.
“I’m not gonna be your roommate,” I hear myself say, and my voice comes out steadier than I feel.
His eyes search mine, hopeful and wary all at once. “Yeah?”
I shake my head, and the smile on my face feels like it might split me in two.
“What do you want to be?” he asks, and his voice is rough, like he’s barely holding himself together. All because he wants to hear me say the words.
I lean across the table, close enough that I can see the way his pupils are growing bigger in size. “Yours.”
The word barely leaves my mouth before he’s moving. He doesn’t kiss me—we’re in public, and I appreciate that he has some restraint—but he lifts my hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to my knuckles that says everything. Clearly not caring about catching some attention, his mouth peppers a few more until he’s releasing me from his grip.
When he looks up at me over my fingers, there’s a fire in his gaze that makes my stomach flip. Then he’s scanning the diner, looking around like he’s just remembered where we are. His freehand shoots up, flagging down our waitress with an urgency that makes me laugh.
“What are you doing?” I ask, still giggling.
He doesn’t answer right away, just waits for the waitress to appear at our table with a smile. “You two need anything else? More coffee? Dessert menu?”
