Page 7 of Consumed By The Forbidden Mountain Man

"You should go. Get out of the cabin. Walk around town."

"Is that you telling me to go, or you telling me you'll be there?"

He cuts me a look. Sideways, under dark eyebrows. My stomach does a slow roll.

"Both."

We sit in silence for a while. Comfortable silence, which surprises me. I talk when I'm nervous, and the fact that I'm not rambling right now means something. The mountain air is sharp with pine. Stars are filling in overhead, thick and clear in a way you never see in Sacramento.

"I had a crush on you when I was sixteen," I hear myself say.

The wine. Blame the wine.

Reid goes very still. His hand tightens on his glass by a fraction.

"Ivy."

"Relax. I'm not confessing anything. Just stating a historical fact." I smile into my wine. "You were twenty-eight. You had this leather jacket. I thought you were the coolest person alive."

"I was an idiot at twenty-eight."

"An idiot in a really good leather jacket."

He exhales through his nose. It might be a laugh. Hard to tell with him.

"That was twelve years ago," he says.

"I'm aware."

"You were a kid."

"I'm aware of that too." I drain my glass and stand. "Thanks for dinner, Reid. The steak was perfect and the conversation was almost warm. Big night for you."

He stands too. Taller than me by a lot. Broader than seems fair. In the porch light, his eyes are nearly black, and the scruff on his jaw catches the glow.

"Goodnight, Ivy."

"Goodnight." I take my empty wine glass and the bottle. Turn at the top of the steps. "For the record? You were right about the job thing. Nobody's said that to me before."

Something moves behind his eyes. Something he's working very hard not to show.

"Sleep well."

I walk back through the pines to my cabin. The cold bites at my cheeks. Inside, I lock the door, set the wine glass in the sink, and lean against the counter.

My phone sits on the bed where I left it. I pick it up.

Me:

Tony I have a problem

Tony:

What happened

Did the shower flood again

Me: