Page 7 of Mountain Grump Protector

"Look…”

“Willow,” I offer. This asshole doesn’t even know my name.

“Willow,” he repeats, and dammit if my entire body doesn’t react at the way my name sounds on his lips. I shut that thought down real quick; the last thing I need right now is having any kind of feelings that aren’t contempt for this man who just bought me. “I’m not trying to rush you, but it seems we’re running out of time here. You’re welcome to stay, but…”

“I don't even know you.”

"I have a dog named Murph. I fix cars, and I live on the mountain up at Iron Peak."

"I know that much,” I huff, making his lips quirk up in a half grin.

“You do, do you? I thought you said you didn’t⁠—”

“Everyone knows who you are, who all of you are. You’re the men on the mountain,” I say, ignoring his cocky smile. “But that doesn’t mean I know you.”

"I’ll tell you whatever you need to know, Willow, but you gotta make a decision here." He nods towards the man who is now stomping out his cigarette and either getting ready to walk towards us or go back into the bar and get Ronnie. Either way, I'm not interested in hanging around to find out. “I’m not interested in pushing my luck tonight any more than I already have.”

Maybe I don’t know much about him, but what I do know isn’t bad. He didn’t gloat when he won the game. He didn’t ask me for anything. He simply paid the money and got me out of there. And now, he’s holding the passenger door open for me.

“Fine.”

I make my decision and jump into the cab of his truck. “But for the record, I’m not getting in because you won me. I’m getting in because I don’t feel like waiting around to see how pissed off Ronnie is.”

“Noted.” He shuts the door and turns away with a shake of his head, but not before I notice the half smile on his face.

Cal gets in beside me, turns the key, and puts the old truck in drive, pulling out of the lot.

I don’t speak until he takes a left instead of a right at the end of the street. “I live out on the old trunk road,” I tell him, pointing in the opposite direction.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says without taking his eyes off the road. “You’re not going home. Not tonight.”

A fresh wave of anger flares up inside me. I should have known better than to trust a mountain man, and now I’m stuck in his truck going God knows where. “I don’t know what you think you just bought, but⁠—”

“The debt.”

He still doesn’t look at me.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

I wait for him to say more. He doesn't. I spin in my seat so I'm staring at him. “Then why am I in your truck right now?”

“Because every man in that bar watched you walk outta there with me, Willow. As far as they are concerned, I did win you. Do you really think they're gonna let you leave this place on your own after what just happened back there?"

I open my mouth, then close it, spin back around, and stare out the windshield.

We drive in silence for another moment before I say, "So where are we going?"

“My place.”

“Excuse me. What makes you think I'm going back to your house?”

He laughs.

The bastard actually laughs at my question, as if it's so crazy for me to wonder why the hell I’d be willing to go to some stranger’s house way the hell up on the mountain.

“Look, Willow. I get that you have trust issues,” he says after a moment, as if he knows me at all. “But as I said before, you don’t have a lot of options right now.”