Whispers on the Mountain: The Hart Family of Moonshine Ridge

Chapter 2

Augustus Damiani. In the flesh and standing so close I could reach out and lay my hand on his impossibly perfect body.

Suddenly, I wish I”d worn a bra.

Or maybe I don”t.

Gorgeous, dark eyes sweep down my body and linger where my hardened nipples are straining at the snug cotton material of the dress”s bodice before dropping lower and making their way back up again.

He could just as well have used his hands to map my body for how completely I feel his gaze. In fact-- I wish he would.

Augustus Damiani has been starring in my filthiest dreams ever since the first time I saw him.

He”s shaved since I saw him leaving Alice”s general store last month, with a load of groceries and a beard to rival any of the local guys down in Moonshine Ridge.

I”m a mountain girl, born and raised; I like a beard as much as the next girl, but the two-days-of-scruff thing that August has going on now is definitely working for me.

Now I can see the chiseled jaw that could cut glass, the high cheek bones, the lips that could... holy hell, those lips could do so much damage to me, I”d probably forget my own name.

”Huh?”

”What”s your name?”

God help me. His voice matches his looks. It”s a rich, velvety tone with a hint of accent that I assume goes with his Italian heritage. Now that I have a voice to go with the image, I retroactively fill in all the dirty things I”ve imagined him saying to me.

It”s possible that I swoon a little.

”You”re trespassing. This is all private land. You need to leave or I”ll have to call the sheriff.”

Wait. None of those things are what I imagined him saying to me.

”I”m not trespassing.” I snap out of my stupor, getting yanked back into hard, cold reality. So much for my instalove fantasy.

Then he flashes me a grin that tightens my nipples and dampens my panties.

”You didn”t notice the row of no trespassing signs posted every thirty feet apart?”

”But they”re posted five hundred yards from the perimeter of the actual lease,” I point out, ”the power plant was granted the easement with the understanding that trespassing wouldn”t be prosecutable until the fence-line was breached. The signs are warnings, not law.”

”What makes you think that?”

He slides a hand into the front pocket of his pants, rocking back on the heels of his leather work boots, and giving me a grin that”s annoyingly sexy considering how condescending it looks.

”It”s my land.”

Dark eyebrows shoot up his forehead.

”Your land? So that would make you Hart”s Gulch Heritage and Holdings, I presume?”

”A major shareholder, yeah.”

See? I can be cocky too.

Slipping the trowel into the basket with the plants, I cross my arms and stare back at him, careful to make sure that Hayle”s old flannel is pushed off my boobs so that the motion puts them on better display.

Because I like the way he”s looking at me. I want to give him reasons to keep looking, at least, until I can figure out how to give him reasons to start touching.

”So that makes you who, exactly, then?”

”Zephyr,” I smile, hoping we”re friends now, and hold out my hand to shake his. ”Zephyr Hart.”

* * *

Augustus

Hart.The surname bounces inside my brain like a bullet ricocheting through a China cabinet.

It”s not bad enough that I”m head over heels for a girl who”s obviously too young and too perfect for me, she has to be a Hart?

Rumor has it, they”re the richest family on the mountain. The family behind the trust that leases the land to the power plant.

This ray of sunshine with her basket of wildflowers was worth more money the day she was born than I”ll ever see in my life time.

Taking in her ensemble, I let my eyes move over those dangerous curves one more time. The boots are well worn, quality material, but nothing fancy. The sunflower yellow sundress makes her look like a million dollars, but the dress itself probably came from one of the usual box stores in the valley or maybe an online catalogue.

It”s the flannel shirt that has my attention as I take her hand and hold it a beat too long; fighting an urge to pull her to me, wrap her in my arms, and press my mouth to hers. But, if common sense isn”t enough to keep my actions in check, that damn flannel sure is.

It”s ridiculously big on her, the frayed hem hanging to her knees, skimming just above where her skirt ends, the sleeves must hang off her hands by at least six inches-- she has them rolled up several times and they still cover her arms to below her elbows.

That shirt belongs to a man, and the way she fondles it between her fingers when I remember to give her back her hand says it belongs to a man she loves.

Jealousy rears up and burns through my veins.

There”s not a ring on her finger yet. Whoever the asshole is, he”s dragged his heels too long. He should have locked this little mountain sprite down the moment he saw her because now that I”ve found her, there”s no way in hell I”m about to let her get away.

”Nice to meet you, Miss Hart.” I find my voice, and my manners, while fighting my way out of those amber-flecked eyes, ”Care to share what you”re doing up here that couldn”t be done three hundred yards farther downhill?”

Gesturing at the basket slung over her arm, I ask the question that”s third on the list of things I want to know about her.

The first two being who does that shirt belong to and why was he stupid enough to let you out of his sight, but I like the way her pouty lips look every time she smiles up at me, so I”m not about to remind her of any reason she might have to stop doing it.

She laughs at me, the noise coming out as part squeak and part gasp that has my dick thickening against my thigh despite my best efforts not to imagine all other ways I could make her make that sound.

”Miss Hart--” she scoffs, rolls her eyes, and flutters her lashes at me, ”please. Zephyr.”

”August--”

”-- Damiani.”

I swear to God she sighs on my last name and that”s all it takes for my dick to grow uncomfortably hard.

”Have we met?” I genuinely wrack my brain.

I”ve only gone into Moonshine Ridge a handful of times to supplement my groceries from the little general store there between my monthly trips down to the big stores in Slow River.

How is it possible that I”d have crossed paths with this exquisite creature before and not remembered?

Her fingers fiddle with the sleeve of the over-size flannel where the handle of the basket loops over her arm.

That could be the reason. If I”d met her when she was out with her boyfriend, she might not have registered. Especially if he”s big enough to actually fit in that shirt.

I”m not a small man, but I doubt I”d fill that thing out completely.

”Uh, no, not really,” she answers on a shy note. I like the bright pink blush that colors her cheeks as well as her cleavage. ”But you know, Moonshine Ridge is really small, so...”

Well, at least my dick isn”t trying to strangle me anymore. Hearing that she knows me by reputation works faster than a bucket of ice water.

I”ve heard the whispers making the rounds of the small-town rumor mill down in Moonshine Ridge. I know what they”re saying about me; the reason why I”m a recluse, hiding out in an abandoned village an hour from my nearest neighbor.

”And what about the flowers, Zephyr?” Steering the conversation off of me and whatever lies have already poisoned her mind against me, I ask about the basket on her arm again.

Up close, I can see that she”s not merely picking wildflowers for a bouquet to brighten someone”s kitchen table, she”s been carefully digging them up as entire plants.

”I”m harvesting them for my garden,” she explains. ”Most of these will last into the fall if I transplant them into the greenhouse, but some of them will go in the big garden outside.”

Tearing my gaze off her is hard, almost painful, she”s like a wildflower herself, one that I”d like to harvest and transplant for myself. Watch her bloom in the privacy of my home and bury my nose in her petals to breathe her sweet fragrance every day.

This side of the hill is bare of trees, all open meadow down to the lake shore. Flowers just like the ones in her basket brighten the land in every direction right to the edge of the water.

”And the reason you needed to harvest plants from this side of the no trespassing signs?”

That blush colors her skin again and she gives me a sweet smile that”s laced with naughtiness.

”I was hoping I might run into you,” she admits with a quick shrug like it takes effort for her to come off as casual.

Insane thoughts take hold of me: I could steal her off this mountain right now, take her up to the house, burn that shirt, and spend the rest of my life making her forget whatever she left behind.

The way her nipples strain against that yellow fabric as she stares up at me through thick, dusty lashes tells me I have a very good chance at getting away with it too.