Page 26 of Working for the Mountain Man

We stay there for a moment, both breathing hard, neither moving.

Then he rolls to his back and takes me with him so I’m against his side, his arm around me, and the cabin’s warm and the storm is still raging outside.

His hand moves slowly up and down my arm and I love it. I don’t want to move.

"I should say something smart," I say finally.

"You don't have to."

"Occupational habit."

He makes a sound that is almost a laugh, I close my eyes and just lie here in bliss.

The cot is narrow and he’s very large. It should be uncomfortable, but his arm is solid and warm and I don’t move, I feel so comfortable and wanted.

"Fourteen days to the inspection," I say, eventually.

"I know."

"The upper ridge file is done. That was the last gap."

"Good." He says it flatly and I don’t know what to make of it.

"You're welcome," I say, grinning against his arm.

"Thank you," he says, pressing a kiss to my head.

I don’t say anything else. I came to Forge Creek because I didn’t trust love anymore. Because a man I trusted, who I loved, used me up and spat me out. He showed the world a version of me that made me doubt everything I knew about myself. He turned me into a laughing stock. Now I’m lying in Hugo' arms while the storm shakes the cabin, and I’m starting to think love was never the problem.

Maybe I was just trusting the wrong man.

Chapter 8

Hugo

Ishould be thinking about the road, about the fallen tree, about my crew, about the grant file, or about the shoulder conditions on the upper ridge access, and whether Darnell has enough hands to clear the trunk safely before the temperature drops again.

Instead, I’m thinking about her hair against my shoulder and the fact that she’s still here, tucked into me on a cot that wasn’t built for two, her hand flat against my chest, her breathing slow.

I don’t regret it, that should scare me more than it does.

The storm has moved off; I can hear the difference in the wind. It’s softer, there’s no more howling, and there’s light coming through the single window.

I lie still for another minute, then the hand-crank radio on the shelf crackles. Darnell’s managed to get through on one bar of signal. He lets me know that the crew has eyes on the fallen tree, the storm passed the upper ridge around three in the morning. They can start the cut in an hour if I say go, he wants to know road conditions at the cabin access before they send the second truck up.

I ease off the cot without waking Elsie, check the door, check outside. The snow is deep but doesn't look like there’ll be any more snowfall anytime soon. The access track looks passable, so I tell Darnell to start the cut and take it slow on the shoulder north of the tree.

"Copy," he says. "Glad you're upright."

"Get the road open," I say.

I hear Corey's voice in the background saying something I decide not to acknowledge. When did my men start gossiping about my life? When I turn around, Elsie’s awake, propped on one elbow, watching me.

"Do you ever wake up normally," she says, "or is it straight into foreman mode?"

"Foreman mode keeps people alive."

"I walked into that one." She sits up and pulls the blanket around her shoulders. Her hair is loose, she has a crease from the cot on her cheek, and she looks at me with those steady hazel eyes, and I have no idea what to do with the feeling in my chest.