Page 28 of When The Mountains Held Us

“That seems like a bit of an exaggeration.” I cross my arms defiantly.

“Your words, not mine, darlin’.”

I roll my eyes, feigning annoyance, but anyone with a pulse could tell I’m faking it. This back and forth feels like a thread pulled taut between us, each little tug on either end threatening to send us toppling into each other.

It’s exhilarating, this push and pull.

“Oakley told me she hiked the trail near your house the other day,” Jessie pipes up, effectively breaking the moment, and I’m grateful for the momentary reprieve as I suck in a lungful of air.

“Is that so?”

I barely register his response as my mind settles on a singular detail.

The trail by your house.

Knowing I was so close to where this man lives makes me feel something I can’t put a name to. Nervousness? No, that’s not it. Excitement? That isn’t right either. Jessie surges ahead, thankfully not picking up on my warring emotions.

“Actually, I’m glad you came in today. I don’t have your number, otherwise I would have texted you. I’m leading a hike to a swimming hole next weekend. There’s even a waterfall. You should totally come with.”

Curiosity gets the better of me. “A swimming hole?”

“Yeah! Don’t get me wrong, the water is cold as hell, but you’ll work up a sweat on the hike in, so I promise you won’t even notice it.”

Levi shoots her a look that says she’s exaggerating and he knows it, but I’m already sold.

“Just tell me where to meet you. I’d love to join.”

“Great! Why don’t you meet me here at nine next Saturday? Don’t forget your bathing suit. Here, give me your phone. I’ll put my number in.”

I hand her my cell and enough cash to cover the groceries. We exchange numbers, and I leave with the promise to see her the following weekend.

Levi, Wendy, and I make our way out to the parking lot, and he loads the old woman’s groceries into the back seat of his truck before helping her into the passenger seat and returning to stand in front of me.

“That’s really nice of you.” I nod towards where Wendy is reapplying her bright pink lipstick in the mirror. It looks to be the exact shade my grandma never leaves the house without, the swirling cream-colored design on the tube perfectly matching the one my grandma uses. I should give her a call when I’m more settled.

“Wendy’s husband passed away a few years back, and her children are all grown and moved away. She’s always looked out for me. The least I can do is return the favor. Plus, she lives right next door, so it makes it easy to check in on her.” He shrugs, like it’s no big deal, but I see it for what it is.

He’s not offering his help out of obligation. He does it because he wants to, and he genuinely cares.

I shift the bags on my arms, and he must pick up on the movement, because he reaches out and takes the bags from me without a word before walking me to my car. His broad frame stoops to place the bags on the passenger seat before he stands to face me.

“Thanks. Though, I’m going to have to start finding a way to pay you back if you’re going to insist on always being the ultimate gentleman.” Am I flirting with him? It came so naturally. I’ll take that as a small win.

He takes a step towards me, stopping only when his body is so close that I can feel the electricity sparking the air between us. With him standing this close, he towers over me, my head barely reaching his shoulders, and I have to tilt my head back to look up at him.

Holding my gaze, he moves slowly, as if I’m an animal he doesn’t want to scare off, reaching out to catch a lock of hair and rubbing it between his fingertips before tucking it gently back in place behind my ear. My breath catches in my lungs. For a moment, we’re suspended in time, something unrecognizable passing between us.

“How many times am I going to have to repeat myself? You owe me nothing, Oakley.”

I love the sound of my name on his lips.

“At least a dozen more.”

A wry grin curves his lips. “I don’t do it to get something out of it. I do it because I want to.”

Without another word, he turns and walks away, climbing into his truck and closing the door. In his absence, the fist wrapped around my lungs releases, and I take a deep breath, clutching desperately at the lingering scent of pine and something else.

Something intoxicating, and masculine, and him.