Page 9 of Channeling the Flannel with the Mountain Man

“That was quick.”

“He communicates his feelings.” Paisley steps closer.

“You just met him.”

“Don’t be jealous, Mountain Man.”

Her eyes dance, and I rest a hand at her waist, pulling her gently against me, the unicorn between us.

“I’m not jealous,” I say softly into her ear. “But that thing isn’t coming home with you.”

Her breath catches. “Who is?”

I lean down until our lips almost touch. “Tell me to stop,” I say against her mouth.

“I have no intention of doing that.”

I kiss the corner of her lips, her cheek, and the sensitive spot below her ear as she threads her fingers through my hair.

“John.” My name on her lips is my undoing.

“Come home with me, Paisley.”

“Yes.” She sighs into my mouth, our breaths mingling as I kiss her lips, showing her, without words, how much I want her.

six

Paisley

John’s cabin sits in a clearing above Temptation Ridge. It’s made of dark timber, has a stone chimney, and warm windows that glow beneath copper-colored trees. Seeing it makes my stomach flutter. This isn’t just where he sleeps. It’s the life he’s built because being alone still feels safer than needing someone. Being invited inside feels intimate even before he touches me, and I quietly promise not to take that trust lightly.

Inside, I wonder if I should compliment the cabin or act like I haven’t noticed how much of him is in it. Every neatly stacked log shows he’s always ready for trouble. The cabin is quietly beautiful. Shelves hold rescue manuals next to worn novels. A stone fireplace fills one wall. A knitted blanket is folded neatly over the couch—the air smells of pine and coffee.

“Are you sure about this?” John’s fingers tighten around mine.

I drop his hand and answer him by tugging his shirt upward. “I want this, and I want you.”

He lifts it off, revealing broad shoulders, dark chest hair, and scars earned from work he never discusses. I trace one near his ribs. “Roof collapse,” he says. I hear the sadness in his voice and, on instinct, lean down and kiss the spot. His hand slides beneath my sweater, spanning my back. “Paisley,” he moans.

“I want this.” I lean up and kiss his lips.

“I need to hear if that changes,” John says against my lips.

“It won’t.”

“Still tell me.” The way he cares, even when he’s firm, sends warmth through me.

He carries me upstairs. His bedroom overlooks the mountains. He sets me on the bed as if I were precious, then kneels to remove my boots. His mouth brushes my knee, then my thigh above my stockings. “You’re beautiful.”

“You haven’t seen all of me,” I say, feeling a little self-conscious of my curves even though he has seen me in yoga pants. Being naked is a little different.

“I knew before tonight.” He undresses me slowly, pausing for permission in his eyes. When I lie before him in lace, he goes utterly still.

“Say something,” I whisper.

“I’m channeling the flannel.” He smiles.

I burst out laughing. “What does that mean?”