Page 8 of Ensnared By the Mountain Man

“Blueberry muffin?”

“Yeah.”

I bag it and slide it across the counter, and when his fingers brush mine, I don’t pretend I don’t feel it. I’m done pretending. Something shifted on that mountain, and I can keep lying to myself about what it was, or I can stand here, let my skin hum where he touched it, and accept that I have feelings for a man who communicates primarily in single syllables.

He takes the table by the window. Same one as yesterday. I wonder if it’s becoming his table, if he’s building a new routine around the one he already had, adding minutes the way someone tests the depth of water before they wade in.

I go about my morning. Coffee, scones, customers, conversation. Alicia bumps my hip on her way past and cuts her eyes toward the window table without saying a word. She doesn’t have to. The look on her face says everything.

“Don’t,” I say.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

She grins and disappears into the back, and I catch myself smiling and immediately try to stop. Elias is right there, and he might see it, and then he’ll know that I’m standing behind this counter grinning about him like a teenager.

I glance over. He’s looking at his coffee. But there’s something at the corner of his mouth that might be the beginning of a smile, and my stomach flips in a way that makes me grip the edge of the counter.

He stays for twenty minutes. When he gets up to leave, he brings his mug to the counter instead of leaving it on the table. Then he stands there for a second like he’s working up to something.

I wait. I’ve gotten good at waiting with Elias, at leaving space for him to fill when he’s ready instead of rushing in to fill it for him the way I do with everyone else.

“What time do you get off?” he asks.

The question is so simple and so unexpected that I nearly drop the mug I’m holding. Four days ago, this man communicated exclusively in nods, and now he’s asking me when my shift ends. I feel like I should check for signs of a head injury.

“Two,” I say. “Today’s an early day.”

He nods. Looks at the counter. Looks back at me.

“There’s a spot up on the ridge. A lookout point above town. It’s a good walk this time of day if your ankle’s up to it.” He pauses, and I watch his jaw tighten the way it does when he’s forcing himself past a boundary he set for himself a long time ago. “I could show you. If you want.”

If I want.

I think about all the times I’ve said yes to people in this town. To Linda Marshall and her boxes, to extra shifts, to favors and errands and requests that eat up every free hour I have. I say yes because people need me and it feels good to be needed and I don’t know who I am if I’m not the person who shows up for everyone else.

This is different. He’s not asking because he needs something from me. He’s asking because he wants my company, and that distinction makes my throat tight in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

“I’d like that,” I say.

He nods again, but this time the almost-smile is back and it reaches his eyes, just barely, just enough to make something warm spread through me from my fingers to my toes. He turns and walks out, the bell chiming behind him.

Alicia comes out of the back and looks at my face and doesn’t even bother pretending she wasn’t listening. “So?”

“So nothing,” I say.

“You’re blushing again.”

I am absolutely blushing again, and I don’t care. For the first time in as long as I can remember, someone asked me to do something just because they wanted to be around me. Not because they needed help or a favor or someone to listen to their problems. Just because.

I look at the window table. His coffee mug is empty and the muffin bag is crumpled beside it, and for some reason the sight of it makes my eyes sting.

I have five hours until two o’clock. Five hours of pouring coffee and plating pastries and smiling at customers and doing all the things I always do.

For the first time, I’m doing them for me. Because the faster this morning goes, the sooner I get to walk up a mountain with a man who says my name like it matters to him. And I want that. Just for me. No one else.

I want it so much it scares me.