Page 14 of Oops I Fell For The Mountain Man Next Door

"You know?" she growls as if the words offend her.

"I mean..." I let out a slow breath.

"You dumped me." She pokes a finger in my chest again, harder this time.

"I know." I lift both hands in surrender.

"After convincing me to run away with you." She glances away but not before I see the hurt in her eyes.

"I know." My brow creases as regret tightens in my chest.

"After telling me you'd never felt that way about anyone."

"I know." I square my shoulders and stay where I am.

"Stop saying you know!" She shoves me this time.

"Lana." I hold her gaze without retreating.

"No." Lana narrows her eyes, her voice cracking. "I'm not doing this again." She walks away, and I let her because I already forced one decision on her when I decided she was better off without me—I won't do it again.

It’s time for plan B.

ten

Lana

THUNK—the sound echoes through my cabin. Yesterday, I decided to stop hiding from Marx and take back my life, starting with my cabin—now I’m beginning to regret that decision.

I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, praying for patience, only to be met with the steady rhythm of wood being split nearby. I throw back the blankets, ready to do battle with my next-door neighbor.

I stomp to the window and immediately regret it. Less than fifty yards away, Marx, shirtless, chops wood, looking like every romance girl’s lumberjack fantasy.

My heart pounds as I close the curtain, trying to block him out. Unfortunately, my body betrays me, and I peek again. His arms flex as the axe falls, cleaving the wood perfectly in two. He glances up and catches me watching. He smirks, and I drop the curtain, sliding down the wall out of his view.

"This is harassment." I lift my chin even as my nerves flutter.

Twenty minutes later, I storm outside wearing pajama pants, boots, and a coat.

Marx sees me approaching and lowers the axe. "Morning."

"Is it?" I hold his gaze, keeping my voice steady.

He glances toward the sky. "Technically."

"Why are you chopping wood at six in the morning?" I press my lips together, trying to suppress a growl.

"Needed wood." He shrugs.

"For what?"

"Fire," Marx answers too quickly.

"You have electricity." I curl my fingers into my palms to keep from slapping that smug look off his face.

"I like the fireplace." His mouth twitches.

"Of course you do." I throw my hands up.