Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
MARILEE
W hy do you look like you’ve seen a ghost—or like you just got laid by one?”
I’m standing in the middle of the Misty Mountain General Store as Hanna’s voice bursts through my phone speaker the moment I answer. Her face fills the screen, grinning.
I glance around the store that serves as both the hardware and grocery store for Misty Mountain. Thankfully, Jack is at the other end of the store, helping some tourists choose hiking poles. I put my basket down by the door, then step out onto the wooden porch and squint into the sun. “Can you not start a conversation like that while I’m in public?”
“I’m sorry, is this not a safe space?” she says, widening her eyes in mock innocence. “You answered a video call from me. You know how I am.”
“Yeah, I didn’t know you were going to come in hot like that.” I glance back into the store to make sure I didn’t leave my basket in someone’s way. “Give me a second.”
I shift the phone in my hand and lean against one of the porch beams. The wood is warm from the sun, and the scent of pine and baked earth rises off the parking lot. Behind me, someone rings the store’s bell and walks out with a bag of peaches and a six-pack of beer.
Hanna studies me through the screen. I can see she’s sitting on the porch of the cabin she shares with her boyfriend, Jordan, over on Silver Pine Ridge. Seeing King Mountain makes me nostalgic for home, though not enough to tempt me to return.
“You’re flushed,” she says. “I see you blushing.”
“I’m not blushing.”
“You’re definitely blushing.”
“I’m standing in direct sunlight,” I sigh.
She leans forward, adjusting her phone so I get an extreme close-up of her smirking face. “So. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I say too quickly.
“Oh, I love it when you lie badly. Spill, Babe.”
I glance through the window at the shelves inside lined with honey jars and local cheese and baskets of slightly bruised apples. I should be getting groceries. I should be grabbing pasta and whatever else I need to pull off tonight’s plan.
But I also do kind of need to confide in someone who isn’t going to spread gossip like wildfire.
I sigh and squat down to sit on the porch step. “Okay. So. You know how things have been with Milo?”
“Your roommate,” she says, waggling her eyebrows as she over-emphasizes the word “roommate.”
I ignore her. “It’s been two weeks of this low-key, constant tension. Every time he walks by me, I want to climb him like a tree.”
“Understandable. Obviously,” she grins at me, “I know the appeal of finding a hot mountain man.”
I smile at her. After her husband was KIA, she ended up finding love with her husband’s best friend, and she’s been happier than I’ve ever seen anyone. The kind of happiness and deep commitment to each other they have is what I hope to find for myself. One day.
“And last night...” I lower my voice, glancing around again, in case someone’s behind me. “Last night, I had this dream.”
“Ooh.” Her eyes light up. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
I glance around to make sure I don’t have anyone eavesdropping. “Yeah. It was hot. Featuring Roomie. But I woke up before it finished.”
“Noooo!” she gasps, then covers her mouth as she starts laughing. “I shouldn’t laugh, but I can’t help it.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “And now I can’t stop thinking about him. Or the dream. Or both. So I’m making dinner tonight. I have the night off, and I’m going to cook something nice, pour him a glass of bourbon—and see what happens.”
Hanna squeals. “I knew it! You’re making your move. You’ve entered the Marilee-seducing-a-man stage. How exciting.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“What? Why?” Hanna stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, which…fair. I wonder the same thing sometimes. “Don’t forget—the best way to get over one man…”
“…is to get under another,” I finish the cliché, rolling my eyes. “I know. I know. The only thing is that I don’t think I can do a casual fling with him. I mean, I could try, but…we’re roommates. What if I jump him, and then it’s weird, and he avoids me or worse, pities me? Or what if I misread things, and then everything falls apart?”
“You think this beefcake is going to pity the woman who makes him dinner and offers her body as dessert?”
I groan. “Maybe?” As soon as I said it, I knew it sounded sad. I’m a grown woman, so how come the idea of cooking for a man fills me with such dread of rejection?
Hanna’s face softens. “Mar, you’ve always been all in or all out. If you’re catching feelings, I think you already know. But I also think—it’s okay to want something. Even if it’s only for one night.”
“I keep telling myself that. That I’ll be fine. That if it’s only sex, that’s okay.”
“But you’re scared it won’t be only sex,” she says gently.
I nod, even though it feels too vulnerable to say it out loud.
“Okay,” Hanna says. “Here’s what I think: feelings or not, you’re doing something brave. You’re putting yourself out there, and that matters. But also—don’t overthink it so much you forget to have fun. You’re allowed to want. You’re allowed to be horny—and you’re allowed to do something about it.”
I laugh again. “I suppose. Thanks for your support.”
“You’re welcome. Now go inside, get some food. Don’t forget something sexy for dessert.”
“I swear to God, if you say whipped cream—”
“No, I was going to say chocolate mousse. Classy, decadent, and also…spoon-feeding potential.”
I shake my head and push myself up off the step. “Okay, I’m heading back in. I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“You better. I want all the steamy updates.”
“Goodbye, Hanna.”
I hang up mid-laugh and slide my phone back into my pocket. My face is still warm, but I have to admit that talking with Hanna has helped me feel more confident. I’m definitely overthinking things, but how can I not?
I walk back into the store, pass the local produce display, and head straight for the pasta aisle. Garlic, basil, and lemon for the sauce. I’ll figure out a side.
As I pass the dairy case, I grab a small chocolate mousse cup and smile to myself.
Just in case.
The screen door creaks a little louder than usual as I nudge it open with my hip. My arms are full of grocery bags, but it’s not their weight that makes me pause.
It’s him.
Milo is in the kitchen.
The golden light slants through the windows, catching on the edges of Milo’s broad shoulders. He’s got his sleeves rolled up, forearms exposed, damp hair curling slightly at his temples like he only got out of the shower. There’s a cutting board in front of him and two gleaming trout, already cleaned and ready for grilling.
He looks up, and his eyes meet mine.
For one second, neither of us says anything.
Then he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, “I was up early, so I went out and caught dinner.”
That voice—low, quiet, a little rough—threads through me like silk over sun-warmed skin. I blink, still halfway in the doorway.
“You…caught dinner?”
He nods once. Calm. Understated. “I thought I’d cook for you. You’ve been working a lot, and I thought it would be nice for you.”
The bag in my left hand slips a little. I catch it against my hip and set both bags gently on the counter, though my pulse is doing cartwheels. I saw he was gone when I got up, but I didn’t think anything of it.
But he thought about me. My heart thumps in my chest, and I resist the urge to squirm as my core flames to life.
I push hair behind my ear. “I was going to cook for you.”
His smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “Guess we both had the same idea for your second night off.”
I stare at him for a long moment. The same man I dreamed about last night—his mouth, his body, the way he touched me in that dream with a kind of primal desire I’m not sure I’ve ever felt. I woke up aching for release.
And now he’s standing here, real and shirt-sleeved, preparing dinner for me like us taking turns cooking is normal. Am I dreaming?
“You need help?” I ask, stepping forward.
“Nah, I got it. You have a seat and relax.”
I put away my groceries, then pour each of us a glass of bourbon. Our fingers brush when he takes his glass, and a spark jumps between us.
I sip slowly, letting the warmth spread through me as I watch him cook dinner. Never has a man cooked for me, and as I watch Milo move through his kitchen, the fish sizzling in the frying pan, I don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to a man. I didn’t know “hot man cooking me dinner” was on my bingo card for “things that make me horny as hell,” but damn if it isn’t.
We decide to eat on the porch.
“This is incredible,” I say between bites. “Seriously.”
He shrugs and drinks from his glass. “Fresh catch.”
I rest my elbow on the arm of my chair and study him. The way he looks in the light of the sunset. The tension that always lingers in his frame, like he’s braced for something he won’t talk about. I want to ask what he’s thinking, but the quiet between us is good. I don’t want to break the spell.
Milo turns to me, and his gaze drags over me—not in a way that makes me feel small, but in a way that makes me sit up straighter and push my chest out.
We lean closer without realizing it. Our knees touch again, and this time, neither of us pulls back.
He goes quiet, fingers tracing the rim of his glass.
“There’s always noise in my head. But when I fish,” he says, turning to look at the woods, “it’s the only time my head shuts up. Even chopping wood doesn’t work anymore. But out there… I can breathe.”
I don’t say anything, but reach over and take his hand. His grip is firm, warm. A little hesitant, but he doesn’t let go.
He doesn’t stop me as I turn to him and lean in slowly, looking directly into his blue eyes.
Our mouths meet in a kiss that’s soft but deep. His lips are warm and slightly chapped, and when I open to him, he follows. His hand slides into my hair, his fingers threading at the nape of my neck. Desire shivers across my skin, and I moan into our kiss.
I press closer, and he pulls me onto his lap. The kiss deepens, and I feel it everywhere—in the thrum of my pulse, the ache in my chest, the intense throbbing in my core.
My fingers slip under the edge of his sleeve, brushing bare skin. He exhales through his nose and shifts slightly, wrapping an arm around my back and pulling me into another deep, probing kiss.
When I finally pull back, I’m breathing fast. So is he. The air between us is thick and electric.
“I wanted to do that all day,” I whisper.
“I’ve wanted this since I first saw you,” he admits, then pulls me into an electric kiss that makes me forget everything except how good this feels and how horny he makes me. The rest of the world falls away as our tongues tangle and we hold each other tightly.
This is WAY better than my dream…