Page 5 of Maple Kissed by the Mountain Man

They lingered on the tight stretch of green wool across my chest, trailing from my waist to the heavy curve of my hips. By the time his dark gaze hauled itself back to my face, a dangerous, prickling heat had settled deep beneath my skin, slicking my core with sudden, heavy desire.

He didn’t just look at a woman. He took possession with his eyes.

“Good morning,” I said, keeping my voice bright.

“You’re early.” His voice was a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated straight down my spine.

“And you’re observant.”

He jammed the key into the padlock, the heavy chain clanking violently in the quiet air. “How long have you been standing out here?”

“Not long.”

“How long, Maggie?”

“Twenty minutes.”

His jaw flexed, his mouth tightening into a hard line. “I said six sharp.”

“It’s practically six and I was excited.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“You have no idea.” I stepped closer to the metal, lowering my tone until it was a playful purr. “I lay awake half the night thinking about your trees, Ford.”

His eyes narrowed, a dark flash of heat flaring in his gaze that told me he knew damn well I wasn’t just thinking about the trees. His eyes tracked down to my lips, heavy and dark.

Ford pushed the heavy iron gate open.

I hurried through before he could change his mind. The metallic, heavy snap of the lock echoed behind me, sending a sudden thrill through my chest. I was officially alone on his land. No tourists. No townspeople. No safety net.

Just me and a large, unsmiling mountain man whose gaze had just taken a long, dirty trip down the front of my body.

God help me.

Ford stopped right beside me, blocking the morning light, and held out a calloused hand.

I looked at it, my pulse quickening. “What?”

“Your pack.”

I put my hands on the straps, as if afraid he would try and take it off me. And make me go home. “I can carry my own gear.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.” He gave a telling sigh, one I’d heard several times before.

“Then why are you reaching for it?”

“Your right strap is twisted.”

I glanced down and found the strap lying twisted against my collarbone. “Are you trying to be helpful, Burke?”

“I’m trying to get moving before the light changes.”

“I knew there had to be an ungentlemanly explanation.”

Ford made a low, rough sound in the back of his throat and stepped directly in front of me.

Before I could ask what he was doing, his massive hands came down on my shoulders. His long fingers closed around the green strap near my collarbone. He pulled it loose, straightened it, and hauled it tight.