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I hate beards. And I’m constantly surrounded by them.
“Lilah, I’m going to ask you one more time—”
“Cougar,” I manage to say, interrupting my aunt.
Her eyes grow wide.
“Kai Wilder’s cougar?” she asks, unconcerned.
“Ha! No. Wild momma cougar,” I say, my pants growing shallower as my breaths come easier.
“You sure?” she asks, putting her hands on her hips.
“Pretty fucking sure, but I didn’t hang out to check her belly for a scar, since she was trying to kill me or whatever.”
Benson snorts, and my aunt turns about ten shades of red.
“Go get cleaned up. Use the soap on your mouth. Your date is coming to meet you in…well, shit. He should already be here.”
My date. How did I forget the date?
My aunt has been trying to marry me off since I turned eighteen. That was six years ago.
She’s old school. I’m surprised she waited until I was eighteen, if I’m being honest.
If it’d been up to her, and if I had been more mature—pfft—I’d have been married by sixteen and popping out babies by eighteen, like my mother. But it wasn’t up to her. Still isn’t. And I’m still not mature enough for tiny human making.
Women cook. Men bring home the bacon. Yada yada yada. Her mind is set in stone on how things should work.
I’m self-sufficient as far as finances go, so no thank you to the husband’s paycheck.
“Right,” I say, knowing appeasing her is easier than arguing with her.
Benson lowers me to my feet, making sure I’m steady before he releases me, and I thank him, patting him on the chest and ignoring his beard that tickles my hand.
I head in, wash up, check to make sure I’m not a solid shade of red from all that exertion, and reemerge just in time to see…Mr. Fucking Gorgeous.
Yep.
The guy is so pretty that my eyes hurt.
Wow.
Where the hell did she find him? Not that I want to date him. The guy is too pretty to be anything less than suspicious, but still…
“Oh! Lilah, this is Liam. Liam, my niece—Lilah.”
Liam. Nope. Two L names would just cause confusion.
I still drink in the sight of him, because Liam is pretty, and I like looking at him. It’s been a while since I saw someone past puberty without a beard.
He thrusts his hand out, and I note it’s tan and a little calloused, meaning he possibly spends time outside and working with his hands. Or he jacks off outside a lot. One of the two.
His blond hair looks incredibly touchable. His smooth jaw is definitely a refreshing sight next to all the overgrown beards in this place.
This place being Tomahawk, Washington, a small lake community in the middle of no-damn-where, and a hop, skip and jump away from the Canadian border…which is also right in the middle of no-damn-where.
I’m always leery of newcomers, because…back to that running thing.
If you didn’t grow up in Tomahawk, then the only reason you’d be here is to run from something somewhere else.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, smiling.
His grin is immediate, but I can tell he’s no more interested in me than I am in him. He looks distracted, if I’m being honest. In fact, I think he’s searching for someone as he looks around.
My poor aunt is going to have to wait on all those babies she wants me to pop out. She probably dragged him out here.
“What brings you to Tomahawk?” I ask conversationally.
Population? Three hundred.
“Just moved here.”
Correction, three hundred and one.
“Why?” I ask reflexively.
“Lilah!” my aunt scolds.
“It’s a reasonable question. Ninety-five percent of the country doesn’t even know we exist. The other five percent like to pretend we don’t.”
Liam laughs under his breath, glancing down at his feet for a minute. “Long story. Your aunt tells me you do some online graphic designing.”
I just nod, deciding not to go down that boring road of what we each do for a living.
“Have a seat, Liam. Lilah, you sit next to him,” my aunt says without an ounce of subtlety
“It’s less painful if you just roll with it and let her think she’s winning.”
“I can hear you,” Aunt Penny grumbles.
Liam’s grin only grows as I say, “I know. We can hear you too.”
Per the usual, I take a seat by Benson on the forever long picnic table, and he elbows me gently. “What about that cougar?” he asks as Liam sits down on my other side.
“Cougar?” Liam asks, intrigued.
I shrug, not looking at either of them as we start passing plates around. The food is in the center of the table, and you scoop something out of the bowl in front of you and pass it to the next person.
Liam catches onto this pretty quickly, even though it’s his first time.
“Big momma cougar with a nasty temper,” I finally say.
Cougars aren’t that uncommon around here, but it’s rare they chase you down…unless there’s a damn cub involved.
