Page 2 of Snowbound Mountain Man

He stands with thick arms folded against the broad span of his flannel-clad chest, dark brows drawn deep in clear suspicion and a hint of accusation. Strands of silver thread through his black hair, but the sheer intensity in his face renders me completely speechless.

I've never seen a pair so crystal blue in my life before. They feel like they're cutting straight through me as seconds trickle by without a word passing between us.

A hard, heavy scowl pulls at his mouth, and a shiver tingles its way down my spine. But as his gaze slowly sweeps down, taking in my wide-eyed stance and trembling hands, the crease between his brows softens ever so slightly.

When his gaze drags down my body, the uneasy flutter in my belly turns liquid and hot, sinking fast toward the sensitive space between my legs.

This is a disaster.

The man stands there convinced he’s caught a burglar red-handed, and my body is reacting like we’re mid-flirt.

"Oh, no. You've got it all wrong. This is my cabin. I'm just having a hard time getting in." In my attempt to explain myself, I notice this grumpy man's face get even grumpier.

Averting my gaze, I notice the path of footprints that lead to the next cabin over. Meaning, this is my father's next-door neighbor.

"Maybe you've met my father, Gregory? It's technically his cabin, but—"

At the mention of my father's name, the cold hostility vanishes from his stance like ice under warm water. The tension coiled in his shoulders visibly gives way, his arms dropping slightly as his gaze searches my face. "Wait, you're Junie?"

Hearing him use the nickname I haven't been called in years, I can't help but flinch. "Juniper, please."

This mysterious man turns and looks at my vehicle, almost as if he's trying to piece it all together. I can guess that if he knows that name, he was close enough to my father to know about his recent passing.

Could this man have been the one who... found him?

That's a question I don't think I'm ready to ask, so I leave it a mystery.

Thankfully, he keeps me from thinking about the whole thing when he turns back and immediately climbs the steps I attempted to clear. He doesn't say much else, but he's no longer harboring any distrust as far as I can tell.

When he offers up an empty hand, and I take too long staring in confusion, he curls his thick fingers. "The key."

"Oh!" My skin warms from my delayed response, and I nod and give it to him. Now isn't the time to go pink because of a little embarrassment.

"Greg always insisted he'd get these locks replaced," he explains as he guides me to the side. "I offered to do the job for him months ago, but he never wanted to spend the extra money."

I watch as he works the key inside the knob, jiggling it in a way that looks like far too much work. He then gives the deadbolt just as much love. Immediately, the task of replacing both shoots to the top of my list.

I don't want to have to bother the good-looking neighbor every time I need to get inside, no matter how tempting he is.

Only a moment later does the door unlock. He shimmies the key back out before slowly pushing it open.

For a moment, we both stare inside, our expressions nearly the same. A dread that feels too familiar settles in.

Embarrassment pricks at my neck. Truth is, my knowledge of the man is painfully thin, so any discussion of his habits feels like I'm talking about a stranger.

The last I knew, he burned through every cent on cheap booze before the week was out. Hearing his neighbor talk about him as if he were just a regular guy with a stubborn streak makes my chest tight. But what do I really know?

"He must've been stubborn," I offer, unsure where to take this.

Thankfully, his neighbor just nods in agreement.

A cool gust of wind blows and feels like it easily goes right through me. Without realizing it, I start shivering. He notices instantly.

"You should get in to warm up. There are a few logs in the back for the fireplace. Do you know how to start a fire?"

I don't, but I think I can figure it out if it means I won't freeze to death.

"I think I'll be able to manage." Shifting on my feet, I'm left chewing on my lip as we fight over who'll move first. So far, we're at a stalemate. "Thanks for the help, um..."