Made for the Mountain Man (Mountain Man Mail Order Bride)

5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Brooks

I storm down the street, barely paying attention to where I'm going.

Violet.

Staring at me with her big dark brown eyes, saying everything yet nothing . Literally. Not speaking a word to me. Like the weeks of late-night conversations, most ending with a very happy ending never happened. It's like I don't exist.

Except she watches me and bites her perfect full lip, begging to be kissed. The effort it took not to storm over to her in the coffee shop, throw her over my shoulder, and out to my truck is unheard of. I should get a fucking medal that she's still clothed right now. We wouldn't have made it out of the downtown before I had her bouncing in my lap, riding me until she came all over my hard cock.

I need to calm down. Now.

Looking around, I realize my buddy Anderson lives nearby, so I take a right at the next street and head to his house.

When I get there, I knock. I hear shuffling as if someone is coming to answer, but thirty seconds later, I'm still staring at the closed door.

"Anderson?" I knock louder. "Hey, man. Can I hang out for a few minutes? I need to cool off."

The shuffling continues, growing louder. The door opens, and Anderson's roommate, Milo, blinks into the daylight. "Hey, man. Did you just get here?"

"Oh, hey, Milo." I step back, taking in Anderson's roommate, who looks at me with sleepy eyes. "Uh, yeah. Kind of." I shake my head. "Sorry if I woke you up. I was looking for Anderson."

Milo runs the auto body shop in town and is a nice guy. A bit of a stoner, but he's friendly, easygoing, and can fix anything. He's helped me repair the welding machine a few times over the years.

"Hey, man. Come in, come in." Milo steps back to let me through.

I follow him into the kitchen, which is a mess. Egg shells are scattered on multiple surfaces, little piles of sugar and flour cover the counter, and cookies are cooling in lines on top of two racks next to the stove.

"You bake?" I ask Milo.

"Yeah, man. I bake," Milo repeats with a slow smile as he scratches his short hair.

Suddenly, it dawns on me. "Milo, are you baked ?"

Milo bursts out laughing. "I'm feeling good, man."

I chuckle despite my previous mood, realizing nobody else appears to be home. "Do you know when Anderson will be back?"

Milo nods, walking toward the TV room where a popular horror film sits on pause. He throws himself into the recliner facing away from the kitchen, one leg dangling over the side as he picks up the remote. "He's done with swim lessons in a few. Feel free to hang."

"Right." I nod, looking around the messy kitchen again. "I forgot he picked those up on the weekends."

Anderson is a gym teacher at the local high school. He was a star athlete in high school and got his kinesiology degree and teaching certification in college before returning to Duhring Park to train the next generation.

"Oh, hey, man. Someone sent me a video of you riding a little kid bike and hitting some guy with a pool noodle." Milo peeks at me around the recliner. "Did that happen in real life?"

I sigh. "Yes. The Duhring Park rumor mill is in full swing. Awesome." Eyeing the plate of cookies, I ask, "Can I have one of these, Milo?"

"Yeah, man. The way you fell off that bike, I would say you need it." Milo chuckles and then restarts his movie.

Grumbling, I shove a cookie into my mouth in one bite and almost spit it out. Yuck! Milo is a terrible baker. I manage to swallow the cookie, choking down an earthy taste that does not belong in a dessert.

If the video has already made it to Milo, it means most of the town has probably seen it at this point.

Wait until I tell Violet about this.

The unbidden thought sours my mood again with the realization that my best friend, who I would’ve shared this crazy day with yesterday, doesn't want anything to do with me.

But why does her body tell me otherwise?

I reach for another cookie on auto-pilot, taking a large bite. Ew. I swallow again, not wanting to waste it.

Contemplating the insanity of the past eighteen hours of my life, I grab yet another cookie.

How do you make a cookie taste like a pinecone?

Either I've turned into a caveman douche insisting a girl wants me even though she doesn't, or she does want me but can't tell me why she can't be with me. Is she married? The thought enrages me. Violet is mine .

Shit. I've gone caveman.

Why won't she talk to me?

Frustrated and no calmer, I grab another cookie and head to the living room to wait for Anderson.

I sit on the couch, shoving the entire cookie in my mouth. "Is this the one with the alien thing?" I ask around a mouthful of crumbs.

Milo laughs. "Whoa, man, go slow on those. You'll get sick."

I swallow, nodding thoughtfully. I am a little nauseous. And sweaty. My heart is racing a bit. Oh, I don't feel well.

When I hear the front door a few minutes later, I slowly turn as Anderson enters the kitchen.

"Milo, dude. How many did you make?" Anderson turns to the TV room with a grin and notices me on the couch. "Brooks," he calls out. "What are you doing here?"

I stare at him, trying to focus. "Anderson, I don't feel well."

Anderson rushes over to the couch. "Brooks, did you eat one of Milo's cookies?"

"Yes. They taste terrible," I try to whisper, but I'm pretty sure I yell it right at Anderson, who is now only a foot away from me.

"Oh, shit, Brooks. Milo, did you tell him what was in the cookies?"

I burst out laughing at Anderson's serious expression.

He rears back. "Did you just giggle?" he asks, laughing. "I'm not sure I've ever heard more than a humorous grunt from you, Brooks."

I laugh so hard I have to hold my sides. When I finally stop, I look at Anderson again. His face swims in front of me before it settles into one person. "I don't feel well."

"Milo's experimenting with edibles." Anderson grimaces like he's giving me bad news.

I stare at him, trying to figure out what he's saying.

"You're high, Brooks."

"Ah, that accounts for the forest flavor." I nod, but the movement makes me want to vomit, so I stare up at Anderson. "Take me home?"

"Yeah, bud. I...I don't have a car, though." Anderson scratches his head.

"My truck is parked down the street from The Grounds ." I sway as I stand up.

"Okay, yeah. Let's get you home." Anderson puts his arm around my waist and loops my arm around his neck. "Milo, can you help me here?"

We both turn to see Milo snoring softly in his chair.

"Perfect," Anderson mutters.