Page 13 of Oops I Fell For The Mountain Man Next Door

"No."

"It looks like Marx." Liv leans forward.

"Marx doesn't wear flannel." I curl my fingers into my palms. At least he only wore it during our one week together, not now, not after he dumped me ninety-two days ago.

"He does now." Liv smirks.

"He doesn't have a beard." I plant my feet and refuse to retreat.

"He definitely does now."

Marx turns toward the winery, and our eyes meet through the window. My heart forgets I hate him. My body reacts to him before my pride can build any walls, and that scares me even more than seeing him again. I watch him open the door and walk into the winery. Then I hear his voice. "Lana." Damn him and that voice. It can still reach places inside me I've spent three months barricading.

Marx stands just inside the tasting room, and I get my first real look at him. The city man I fell in love with is gone. This new Marx is rougher, bearded, and looks like he’s been a mountain man his whole life.

"Hi." Marx drags a hand over his beard.

I want to run into his arms and tell him I forgive him. Rachel and his father stopped by the winery after their month-long honeymoon and explained everything to me about how Marx was only trying to protect me. And like the fool I was, I waited, thinking that he would come back to me and explain everything himself—instead, I waited ninety-two days for nothing.

"Get out."

nine

Marx

Lana hates me—I expected that. I deserve it, but I didn’t expect how badly seeing her again would hurt. I’ve seen her from a distance when she’s been trying to avoid me. But up close she’s breathtaking just like I remembered—angry and a little heartbroken, but still beautiful.

"Get out," Lana glares at me.

"I need to talk to you." I take half a step closer, then stop myself.

"No." Lana lifts her chin, though uncertainty flickers in her eyes.

"Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking for."

"No." Lana holds my gaze.

"Two." I counter.

"No." Lana presses her lips together, refusing to back down.

"Thirty seconds."

"Do you understand the word no?" Lana studies me warily.

"Yes." I lower my voice and watch her carefully.

"Excellent. Then we're done." Lana turns to leave, but I reach out and spin her around to face me. I’ll be damned if I let her go this time.

"Lana."

"What?" She glares daggers at me, and there are a thousand things I want to say—I'm sorry, I love you, I didn't leave because I didn't want you. Instead, what comes out is, "You look good."

Her mouth falls open, then she pokes me hard in the chest. "You do not get to show up after three months looking like some lumberjack fantasy and tell me I look good."

Lumberjack fantasy? Interesting. I’ll file that away for later.

"I know." I glance toward the door, then back to her.