Page 14 of Knocked Up By The Mountain Man

"I should probably do the same, but I don't think I could get through the day without at least three cups."

I look longingly at the coffee pot as he starts to make himself a brew, putting coffee grounds into the top of it and pushing the button.

Before the pregnancy, I was a coffee fiend. Now, though, I stick to my doctor's recommended one cup a day, and do decaf the rest of the day.

I doubt that a man like Jack keeps decaf in his kitchen cabinets. And asking for decaf could raise suspicions.

"Well," he says, clearing his throat again. "I should show you the guest suite. You wouldn't have seen it last time you were here."

He grins bashfully at me. I nod.

"That would be great," I say.

I follow him down a wide hallway, and we stop short of the door that I know leads to his master bedroom, the one where we spent that fateful night.

Instead, he turns to the left, opening the pinewood door up to a slightly smaller but equally beautiful bedroom.

"There's a bathroom over there." He waves at one of the doors. "Closets over there, too. Why don't I just give you a moment to settle in, make yourself at home? You can take a shower if you want. I'll start dinner here in about an hour. Sound good?"

He speaks like someone who's not quite sure of himself. He probably never has guests here, even though he does have an impressive guest room.

Or maybe I make him nervous.

"Sounds good," I agree, eager to get some space between our bodies so that I can begin to think straight again. I need to sort out how I'm going to break the news to Jack.

He nods again, then backs out of the room, closing the door.

CHAPTER 8

JACK

I pour a cup of coffee into one of the oversized mugs from the cabinet, drinking it black like I had at the diner. But I can hardly get a couple of sips in before there's a loud, firm knock at my door.

I didn't even hear a vehicle pull up outside. Normally, I hear them in the distance and am opening the door before anybody can even knock on it.

This time, though, I must have been distracted.

I wonder why.

Alyssa. That woman could distract me enough to miss a parade of elephants stomping through my front lawn.

I wouldn't care one bit, as long as she was here. Those beautiful, deep brown eyes trained on me, looking at me like I'm some kind of god damn hero.

I'm almost forty years old. I know I shouldn't get butterflies around a woman. I shouldn't stumble over my words. Normally, I don't.

But with Alyssa, it's different.

I don't want her to be in that guest bedroom. I had half a mind to lead her right into my bedroom and tell her to stay, not just for the night, but forever.

But I'm trying to take it slow. I don't want to make her nervous. Don't want to scare her off.

I found the damn sticky note. The one where she scrawled her phone number and her name on it before she left that fateful morning. It fell behind the nightstand, just like I suspected.

I should have looked there. I would have looked high and low for her phone number if I had any clue that she left it for me. When I woke up that morning and she was gone without a trace, I just figured that's just my luck.

That I meet the perfect woman, that we have a magical night together, and the next morning she realizes what a stupid mistake she's made, hooking up with a guy like me, and books it out of town without saying goodbye.

It just made sense to me.