Page 8 of Consumed By The Forbidden Mountain Man

Worse

Your friend is really really nice

Tony:

??? That's not a problem

Me:

It is when he looks like THAT

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.

Tony:

Ivy. No.

Me:

Goodnight big brother

Tony:

IVY.

I put the phone face down, pull on an old t-shirt, and crawl into bed.

Through the trees, I can see the warm glow of Reid's porch light. He hasn't gone inside yet. Still sitting out there in the cold.

Sixteen-year-old me would have died over this. Twenty-six-year-old me knows better. He's my brother's best friend. He's twelve years older than me. He's divorced and clearly still carrying that weight. And I'm a mess with a notebook full of dreams and zero direction.

But he said what I needed to hear without being asked. He grilled me a steak without being asked. He carried my bags without being asked.

I roll over. Pull the covers up.

The crush I thought I'd buried is so far from buried it's practically doing jumping jacks.

Two weeks. I'm here for two weeks.

This is going to be a problem.

CHAPTER THREE

REID

Monday morning, Ivy shows up on my porch with two coffees.

No knock. No text. Just boots on the steps at seven-fifteen, two paper cups from the general store, and that smile.

"Black, right? You seem like a black coffee person."

I take the cup. Our fingers brush. Hers are cold from the walk.

"You walked to town for coffee."

"I needed the air. And the cabin doesn't have a coffee maker." She drops into the chair next to mine and pulls her feet up, tucking her knees under an oversized flannel that's definitely not hers. Men's cut, red plaid, too big in the shoulders. Probably Tony's from the cabin closet.

My jaw tightens for a reason I refuse to name.