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Mountain Man Hero

Page 7

by Debra Elise

Resolved, I marched through the door to my office, set down my things, started the coffeemaker, then headed to my personal studio, where I’d set up my paint supplies. My fingers itched to get started on my next watercolor, but that would have to wait till later this afternoon. I’d finally finished hanging my finished paintings, and those I'd taken in on commission, and I was eager to see who’d come in today searching for the perfect Christmas present.

Checking the time on my phone, I went back out to the front so that I could let in my potential tenant. On the way, I received a text message saying they had to cancel because of the snow. What? It hadn’t been that bad when I drove in.

Looking out the nearest window, the flakes had become smaller and denser. The speed had picked up considerably, and it had drifted. It felt like I was in a giant snow globe, in part because there were so many large windows on three sides of the open room.

Rapid-fire knocks on the front door rang out. I tucked my phone into my back pocket, took a step forward, then froze. Shoot, I’d been doing that a lot lately. But for good reason. Dusted in a growing layer of snow stood Ross. He held a drink carrier in one hand and wore an unreadable expression on his too-handsome face.

Making him wait, or flat out ignoring him crossed my mind. But the wind had just picked up, and even a man of his size had to be feeling the chill. I hustled to the door, flipped the lock and stood back to let him in.

Hoping I hadn’t made a huge mistake, I took in a fortifying breath and asked, “Why are you here, Ross?”

Instead of answering, he held out the drink carrier. “Coffee? I wasn’t sure how you liked it, so I guessed. The flavors are listed on the cups.”

Suspicion snaked down my spine. What was he up to? “Which one do you want?” I asked.

“I’ll drink whatever you don’t.” No smile, no change in tone. Just a steady look as he waited for me to choose.

What the heck? The logo on the cup indicated he’d hit up my favorite local coffee place, so I took the snowy mocha and stepped back. The more distance, the better. I took a small sip of my drink and watched him warily as he strode to the middle of the room, stopped and did a slow turn, taking everything in.

“This is a great space, Hannah. You should really be proud.” His face lit up with a smile. A smile that warmed me all the way to my toes and back up. I wasn’t used to this version of Ross. The smile, the sincerity. The interest I saw in his dark brown eyes.

“I see you don’t quite believe me. I get it. And to answer your original question, I’m here because I have a lot to make up for. To you. And saying I’m sorry isn’t enough. Won’t ever be enough.” Ross’s voice ended on a soft, caressing note, and it shook me to my core. He’d never once spoken to me with such feeling before. Not like this.

He broke eye contact first, then looked at the paintings on the nearest wall. My paintings. “This one’s yours, right? Man, you’re so talented. But then you were always creating something back then. At your house, I mean. But you guarded those drawings like a threatened mama bear.” Another smile. Another shiver ran through me.

I watched as he set down the drink carrier then returned to looking at the painting. His words had thrown me. So unexpected. As if he was speaking like we’d been friends once upon a time. As if he hadn’t just pushed the first domino over, setting into motion something I’d only ever dreamed of. There was no fricking way this was happening.

“Wait. Just wait. I so don’t know what to do with that.” My arms had gone numb. I rubbed them briskly before wrapping them around my waist. Unsure of what to say next, I clamped my lips together, afraid the old Hannah would emerge and start a bickering fest that wouldn’t resolve anything.

“What? I’m interested, Hannah. Really, I am. It’s great to see that you’re still following your passion. So many people give up their dreams after graduation, but not you. That’s something to be proud of.”

No. No way he wasn’t getting off that easy. “You need to back up and address the declaration that you owe me an apology. Let’s forget your sudden interest in me. Let’s start with ‘what’ won’t ever be enough?”

“It’s not sudden. My interest. It’s always been there.” He walked back toward me. So close, I could feel his body heat.

“And until I make up for being a world-class asshole to you, until you accept my apology, no apologies, for each and every time I hurt you...like that time I mocked the painting you entered into the school’s art fair? Remember? I’ve never been able to get the hurt on your face out of mind. I’m sorry for that, for all of it, Hannah.” Again, his tone caressed instead of abraded.

What was happening right now? Was this what an out-of-body experience felt like?

“And I’m not going anywhere. I’m back in Pineville. For good. I’m going to be here. In your space whenever you’ll let me. In your hair. In that gorgeous brain of yours to show you how I feel. What I’ve always felt for you.” His eyes had dropped to my lips and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me.

Not once did I ever believe that Ross would show up to apologize after all these years. Or declare his feelings in such a dramatic fashion. These things just didn’t happen to a woman like me. Things like this only happened in the movies, right?

“What…what if I don’t want any of that? What if I made peace with the past?” I’m not sure that was quite true, but it was the best argument I had in the moment.

“Have you? Because I’m getting a whole different vibe right now. Something between, well, interest and not quite hate. No, not hate. Maybe irritation? Certainly confusion. But I’m hoping to bridge those emotions. Because I want to set things right between us. Then maybe…”

“Maybe what?” I whispered.

“Maybe see if your lips taste as good as they look. If your skin feels as soft as I fantasized about late at night in my teenage bedroom. For the last sixteen years. Then see if I can make your eyes go heavy and all needy. Like they did whenever we accidentally touched.”

“As in plural? When did we ever touch? I think that’s something I’d remember.” My mouth had gone dry, and my voice came out hoarse.

“Once. Back in high school. That day when I ran off that Brad-what’s-his-name, and you stormed past me, brushing your shoulder against my arm. I totally understand if you’ve forgotten. But I never have.”

“Damn you, Ross London.”

“Yup. I’ve been damned for a long time. But that won’t stop me from proving to you I’m the best man for you. Now, I need something from you. I need you to tell me how to earn your forgiveness.”