My Mountain Man Recluse: A Grumpy Sunshine Age Gap Romance

4. Izzie

An hour later, I’m leaning against the kitchen bench wearing Jagger’s sweatpants and flannel shirt. Not the flannel shirt I wrapped his arm in. That went in the wash with my soaking, blood-stained clothes. He got me a dry set from upstairs, and it smells of wood smoke and cigars.

The inside of his cabin is all pale wood slotted together and smooth floorboards. The downstairs area is open plan with a small kitchen by the back. A granite covered countertop separates it from the living area.

Stairs lead up to the mezzanine floor, and a small table is tucked under them. The cabin’s small, made for one man and his dog who don’t often get visitors.

Rain hammers the windows, and I wipe the condensation away to peer out. It’s muggy inside from the clothes dryer and the fire that Jagger’s got going in the living area. It’s not cold enough for a fire, but it’s comforting. The first thing he did when he came in was towel off his dog and light the fire for her. She sits there now, curled on a fluffy towel, whimpering every time a gust of wind rattles the windows.

Jagger sits with his dog, his back to the kitchen, and me.

I’m not sure what I’ve done to annoy him so much. The lasagna I baked him sits on the kitchen counter, the foil wrapped tightly around it.

I sip my coffee and check my phone for the hundredth time. Everyone’s talking about the storm. It’s worse here in the mountains. My video has had over a hundred views and has been shared twelve times.

A message pops up on my phone from my oldest friend, Amy.

Hey, thinking of you this week. Here for you if you want to talk xx

My chest squeezes, and heat rises behind my eyelids. I blink quickly. I will not cry in Jagger’s kitchen.

I ignore the message and go back to my social feeds.

Someone else has posted about the storm, and I comment on that. Then I watch a funny video showing a cat hissing at the thunder. Then another one showing a dog with its mouth open drinking the rain.

I bunch up my fist and run it over the window, clearing a bigger trail through the condensation. The sky is a wall of angry grey; the mountain’s barely visible. I snap a picture.

And now the rain hits…

I hit post and wait for likes to come in, smiling to myself when they do.

“You ever put that thing down?”

I startle at Jagger’s voice and almost drop my phone. He’s leaning his good arm on the kitchen counter, looking at me with intense grey eyes as moody as the storm outside.

“You scared me.”

He frowns. “You should be down the mountain and safe with your father.”

I glance outside. The thought of driving in this rain makes me shudder. But if staying in the cabin with the world’s biggest grump is the only other option, then maybe I should risk the mountain.

“I’m waiting for my clothes to dry.”

I indicate the dryer where the rattle of my jean’s zipper hitting the sides fills the kitchen.

“I’ll drop them off with you another time. If you don’t go now, these roads aren’t going to be passable.”

Minty comes up to nuzzle his arm, and he winces at her touch. I step forward to check the bandage, and he steps away.

“My damned arm’s fine. But you won’t be on these roads if you don’t get gone, Izzie.”

I disinfected the wound and stitched the skin together. I had to take deep breaths to stop my fingers from trembling. I’ve only ever done suturing on a banana when we were practicing at nursing school. Jagger is my first live patient, but I’m not going to tell him that.

I’m proud of my work, but the stitches aren’t as straight as I would have liked and I don’t trust my own work to hold, especially on a man like Jagger who’s hardly going to take my advice of bedrest. He shouldn’t be up here on his own with an injury like that. If the wound opens again, he could lose a lot of blood.

“If you come with me to the medical center, I’ll go.”

He lets out a huffy breath, and his scowl deepens. He’s supposed to look mean, but that disapproving look, the deep lines of a life well lived, only make him look more rugged and attractive.

“I don’t need a medical center. You’ve stitched me up. I’m good.”

I cross my arms over my chest. I don’t remember Jagger being so bossy when I was a kid, but I can be just as stubborn.

“Then you’re a patient under my care, and in the present circumstances, I’m not going to leave you alone.”

He runs his hands through his hair, which is still damp and messy and flecked with silver at the edges.

“Damn you, woman, I’m not under your care.”

I raise my eyebrows, and my gaze goes to the bandage on his arm and the lasagna on the bench.

His scowl deepens and I get ready for the next retort, but at that moment the lights flicker and go out.

The dryer stops suddenly, and the only sound is the pounding of the rain against the windows.

It’s mid-afternoon, but it may as well be the middle of the night for all the light the clouds are letting through.

Instinctively I step forward, and Jagger’s arms drop to his sides. I’m inches away from him, and for a moment I think he’s about to embrace me. The skin on my arms tingles, and a delicious sensation vibrates through me.

Then Minty whines and Jagger steps back and the moment’s gone. Which is just as well. The last thing I want to do is jump into the arms of my dad’s oldest friend like some schoolgirl who’s scared of the dark.

Suddenly the air cracks and thunder booms above us, echoing around the valley and making the windows rattle. Minty yelps and springs up into Jagger’s arms. He catches the dog awkwardly, wincing at the pain it must be causing to his injury.

The lightening that follows shows Minty’s doggy limbs sticking out awkwardly as Jagger cradles her, his lips pressed together in pain and blotches of scarlet blood seeping through the bandage.

Jagger stumbles backward, trying to keep hold of the trembling setter. It would be funny but for her wide eyes and whimpering. The dog is terrified.

Jagger carries her over to the fireplace and places her gently on her blanket. He whispers in her ear while he strokes her gently behind the ears.

They stay like that for a long time until the dog settles. But when he gets up she follows, trailing in his wake as he moves around the cabin shutting all the blinds.

I wonder what would have happened if I had jumped into Jagger’s arms instead of Minty. Would he whisper soothing nothings in my ear and stroke my hair?

The thought makes me tingle in that same way watching him chop wood did. Which is bad. I can’t go having those feelings for my dad’s best friend. I pull out my phone, needing a distraction, but I can’t get online.

“Something’s up with the WiFi.”

“It went down with the electrics.”

He seems unworried, but it’s hard to read his expression in the dim light. I tap my phone, trying mobile data, but that’s down too.

“I’m going to get the generator going. It’s in the shed.”

Jagger pulls his coat on, and Minty trails him to the back door. He crouches down so he’s eye level with the anxious dog.

“You stay here with Izzie. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Minty whines, and I try to distract her while Jagger heads out of the door. The door blows open and rain slices inside, wetting the floor. Thunder cracks above us, sending Minty cowering into the corner. It’s coming down harder than it was a few minutes ago, and I push the door shut against the wind. Then I find Minty and sit with her, stroking her ears the way Jagger was doing.

He hasn’t mentioned me going again, and I’m not sure I want to now that the storm’s turned ugly.

Besides, I need to check his dressing and see if the stitches opened when Minty jumped on him. Jagger may be a difficult patient, but he’s my first real one and I’m going to make sure I look after him properly.

It’s what Mom would have done.

Thoughts of Mom have me reaching for my phone. There’s still no signal. I can’t get onto any of my social feeds. And I really need the distraction.

Maybe Jagger’s right, and I should get going. He’s lived up here alone for several years. He can handle one storm and a power outage.

If I leave now, I can take it slow and get back to Dad’s place in Hope where the electricity is probably still on and the WiFi is working.

Lights flicker and then come on. The dryer springs to life with a rattle. A few minutes later, Jagger comes in dripping wet all over again. He shrugs off his jacket, and Minty nuzzles into his legs and gets under his feet.

“I think I will go, if you don’t mind me taking your clothes.” I grab my medical bag.

Jagger raises his eyebrows at me.

“Now you want to go? Now that the rain’s coming down hard, there’s an electrical storm right above us, and you’re on one of the highest elevated roads on the mountain?”

As if to illustrate his point, another boom of thunder shakes the cabin and sends Minty into a fit of whimpers.

He has a good point. But what’s the alternative?

Jagger hangs up his jacket, but water has somehow managed to get onto his t-shirt. With a fluid movement he slides it over his head, and I’m face to face with a wall of hard muscle.

He’s completely unaware of my gawking at him as he turns around and drops it onto the laundry pile.

“I’m getting changed, again. Then I’ll get on the radio and check in. The time to go was an hour ago, Izzie. I’m not letting you drive now.”

My mouth drops open, and I’m caught between being annoyed at him for telling me what to do and trying not to stare at his bare back as he heads up the stairs to the mezzanine floor to find a shirt.

Minty trails after him. As I watch his retreating back, the muscles dance over the tattoo snaking around his torso and I have to stop myself from trailing after him too.