Followed By The Mountain Man (The Mountain Men of Linesworth Book 8)

by Frankie Love

  I grab a wing, dipping it in blue cheese, not at all concerned with the fact that it’s dripping down my chin and that hot wings are maybe the least attractive food a person can consume. I eat like, six of them without looking up, focused on the food, not the stupidly handsome man I am with.

  When I reach for a napkin, he hands me one, smiling. “You like to eat?”

  “I have a food truck, don’t I?”

  He nods slowly, drinking his beer. “Yeah, but you sell scones and shit. Not like, real food.”

  “Oh, so not only are you taking all my potential customers, you’re also criticizing my business?”

  “It’s not a criticism, it’s the truth. You have a coffee stand. Which is great. I mean, a little strange considering there are half a dozen places to get coffee in this town already, but you know, you do you.”

  “Are you trying to piss me off or what?”

  He eats his fries, frowning. “Not trying to piss you off, that’s for sure. I just hate the fact you’re struggling so much. I see how many customers come to your truck.”

  “Maybe I should be like you and start talking about my body parts in a constant stream of chats. That should get some attention.”

  “My food is unique and good. That’s why I get customers.”

  I tap my chin, dismissing his comment. “How many characters go into a chat? Two hundred and eighty or less? How about this one? Come over here and eat my muffin. #ExtraSweet.” I smile. “Direct, to the point, and I’ll make loads of cash.”

  Benji’s eyes narrow, he runs a hand over his beard. “Don’t do that, Tillie.”

  “Why?” I pull out my phone and open the Chatter app. I begin to type the words out.

  “Stop it,” he says, reaching across the table and grabbing my phone.

  “Hey, give it back,” I say, but he is already deleting the sentence. He hands the phone back wordlessly. “You think you can be the boss of me?”

  “No, but I think you don’t know what you are asking for. And I don’t want to see you get hurt. Guys on apps like that will start sliding into your DMs and you shouldn’t deal with that bullshit. Not someone like you.”

  “Oh, you don’t think I’m tough enough to handle a few unsolicited dick pics?”

  “I don’t know what you can handle, Tillie. But I know you’re a sweet girl who shouldn’t resort to those sorts of tactics for a paycheck.”

  Tears spring to my eyes and I hate it — the idea that I might cry in front of this beast of a man. “It’s a bit of a double standard, isn’t it? You can drone on about your footlong and I can’t talk about my melt-in-your-mouth muffin?” I stand from the booth, grabbing my purse. It’s time to go.

  He stands, dropping cash on the table, and follows me out onto Main Street.

  “Tillie,” he calls after me. I stop, turning to him under the light of the streetlight on the sidewalk I’ve walked down my whole life.

  “What?” I ask. He’s inches away and he reaches for my hand and my heart pounds. No. This is not happening. I hate this man, don’t I?

  “I’m just being funny when I make sexual innuendos. And yes, it is a double standard, but men and women are treated differently, on the internet and everywhere else. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “Why? Why do you care if I get hurt?”

  “Is it so crazy to think I could care about you?”

  I pull my hand away, crossing my arms. “Because we’re friends, right?”

  He runs a hand through his thick hair. “Right. Because we’re friends.”

  I exhale, blowing hair from my face. “I shouldn’t have stormed off. I’m just really frustrated. You just moved here and yet you’re killing it with your truck. I’ve lived here all my life and can’t seem to make ends meet.”

  “You want help?” He shrugs. “I’m good at marketing — maybe we could figure out a way to help you drum up business.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “Yes, I’ll help you,” he says, smiling, and damn, it’s painful because he doesn’t look like a bad boy under the light of the moon. He looks like a man. A real mountain man, and my heart is doing the fluttering thing that means danger. I can’t fall for this wild man. Not when I’m holding out for my one and only.

  But I need his help.

  “Okay, tomorrow night, dinner’s on me.”

  “You fed me tonight, tomorrow I can feed you.”

  “You’re gonna give me your muffin?” he asks, and my eyes widen. He chuckles, raising his hands in defense as I smack his shoulder. “It was a joke, woman.”

  But as I walk away toward my car, I look back over my shoulder. He’s still watching me. And his words didn’t sound like a joke at all. They sounded like a prediction.

  3

  Benji

  I haven’t stopped thinking about Matilda since she walked away last night. God, the setup was so perfect for a kiss under the streetlight, and damn, I wanted to lock lips with her and then end up with her in my bed, but Tillie wouldn’t be ready for that. For me. Because once things start with her, I know they won’t stop. I want this girl. Bad. She’s both confident and terrified, hopeful and defeated. And I want her to be mine.

  I hate those tears that sprang to her eyes. It was hard to tell how far I could take things, how much I could joke around — I didn’t want to offend her. But then she went and talked about my sausage and her muffin and I figure it’s all fair game now.

  But maybe it’s not. I don’t want to screw things up with her before they’ve even begun. Because hell, she is doing something to me. Something crazy. And I toss and turn all night with her on my mind.

  In the morning, I take a run with my brother Wyatt and Kodiak up Bear Claw Hill. When we summit the trailhead, it’s a gorgeous view, and I take a quick photo for Chatter, uploading the picture with a caption reading, What’s better? Working up a sweat on the mountain or in the bedroom? #GetThisSausage #LumberjackSmokeHaus. Shameless promotion, and it works every time. The more over the top I am with my chats, the more business I seem to get at the food truck.

  It’s hot, even in the early morning, and by the time we’re done, I’m starving.

  “You guys wanna grab something to eat?” I ask, but Wyatt shakes his head.

  “Sorry bro, I promised Windsor I would try her new green juice post-workout.” His girlfriend recently opened a juice bar inside his CrossFit gym.

  “I’m a no,” Kodiak echoes. “Kensie and I have the day off and we’re headed to Seattle for a few nights.”

  “Man,” I groan. “You guys are both tied to the ball and chain, huh?”

  Wyatt claps my shoulder. “There are worst things to be than in love.”

  “You dating anyone?” Kodiak asks as we walk from the trail back toward our trucks.

  “No, why?”

  Kodiak shrugs. “I thought I heard Kensie talking last night about Tillie going out with you or something. But I must have got it wrong.”

  Wyatt laughs. “Yeah, you must have, because there is no way in hell a girl like Tillie would date Benji.”

  I scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Wyatt lifts his eyebrows. “You serious? You know exactly what I mean. Tillie is the sort of girl who wants to settle down. Way down. Like 2.5 kids, a picket fence, and a thirty-year mortgage down.”

  “And I can’t give her that?”

  “You’d want to?” He laughs. “I just can’t see you getting serious.”

  Kodiak cuts in. “Wait, so did you go out with her?”

  “We got drinks. As friends. And we’re having dinner tonight. But it’s business, not pleasure.”

  Wyatt cracks up. “You’re so full of shit. Let me guess, she’s coming over to your place?”

  “We haven’t decided where we’re eating yet, but hell, Wyatt, you’re starting to piss me off.”

  Kodiak and Wyatt back off. “Just don’t break the girl’s heart,” Kodiak says. “From what I hear from Kensie, she’s a sweetheart. And a virgin.
”

  “I know what she is,” I mutter under my breath and I pull open my car door, thinking about his words. A virgin. Damn, my cock can hardly handle the thought. I drive away with the music loud, clouding out my thoughts. Because the truth is, I don’t want to think about what they just said. The truth is, they weren’t being assholes. They were being honest.

  I have no business falling for a girl like Matilda.

  After I clean up from the run, I head into town looking for a cup of coffee. I stop at Three Sisters Bakery. A few local guys wave hello as they are leaving the bakery and I pass them. Clive, Charlie, and Ansel are a few years older than me and my buddies. They seem to be in a place in life where Kodiak and Wyatt will end up soon enough. Married with kids. I run a hand over my beard, thinking that maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world.

  Hell, that’s a thought I’ve never had before, but sitting in the booth with Tillie changed something in me.

  Too bad she has no interest in me. Not even a little.

  As I enter the bakery, a warm cinnamon smell wafts over me, and I step into line, my stomach growling. I give my order to Greta, who stands behind the counter. She is married to Ansel, who just left.

  “Everyone is talking about your sausages,” she says with a laugh.

  I chuckle. “Yeah? Well, you should stop by the truck sometime. I have a new dog on the menu that kids seem to like.”

  “What makes it kid-friendly?” she asks, handing me a to-go cup of coffee.

  “I added cheese. Kids love cheese, it’s a universal fact.”

  She smiles. “I couldn’t agree more. You know a lot about kids’ eating habits? I wouldn’t think it was on your radar.”

  “Why’s that?”

  She laughs good-naturedly. “I work at the busiest bakery in town, Benji, I hear things.”

  “And what do you hear?” I ask as she plates my cinnamon roll.

  She waves her hand in the air. “Who cares what I hear. But you know, this town seems to have a soft spot for happy endings. Maybe you should find a nice girl and settle down.”

  I chuckle. “Wow. I came in for breakfast, not a lecture.”

  Greta scrunches up her nose. “Oh, that’s not a lecture, believe me — with my crazy household, I have to do better than that.” She cocks her head to the side. “But that one, over there in the corner? She’s a local girl with a heart of gold.”

  I look in the direction she’s gesturing and see Tillie.

  “You think Tillie would be a good match for me?”

  Greta bites her bottom lip. “I think sometimes opposites attract.”

  “Are you trying to play matchmaker?” I ask, thinking she’s already too late. I was up all night with Tillie on my mind and seeing her now only affirms what I thought. She’s the one for me.

  “Maybe,” Greta says, handing me my plate. “Go talk to her.”

  “We already have a dinner date,” I say, grinning.

  Greta’s mouth falls open. “I feel betrayed by this town’s gossip mill. How did the last few hours pass without anyone mentioning this to me?”

  I shrug. “Don’t worry, they will be talking about us soon enough.”

  “That so?” Greta’s eyebrow lifts.

  I nod, my eyes fixed on Tillie. “Yeah, I’m gonna make sure of it.”

  4

  Tillie

  When I see Benji get in line at Three Sisters, I immediately tense. Kensie and Windsor immediately know something is up.

  “What’s wrong?” Kensie asks.

  “He’s here,” I say under my breath as I rip my cinnamon roll in half, shoving a piece in my mouth.

  The girls spin around and smile, seeing Benji.

  “So he really held your hand?” Windsor asks. “It just seems so… out of character. Every time we hang out, he’s acting like a douchebag. Posting to Chatter the whole time we’re having drinks or whatever.” She’s in a serious relationship with Wyatt, Benji’s younger brother, so I suppose she must know him better than me.

  “He wasn’t like that last night,” I whisper, explaining how it went. I already told Kensie last night, but now her sister wants the full story herself.

  “So you’re getting dinner tonight?” Kensie asks.

  I nod as Benji walks over to our table. My belly flip-flops. But why? We’re friends. That’s it.

  “You ladies talking about me?” he asks, leaning in, giving me a wink and such a self-assured smile that I should be running the other way… but that is the thing about Benji — he pulls me into his orbit. He’s so handsome, so sexy — like those guys in high school who had every girl wrapped around their pinkies. The kind of guy I have never even sort of fallen for.

  But they weren’t Benji. And even if he’s bad news… he’s also making me all kinds of hot and bothered.

  I need out of this bakery. Stat.

  Grabbing my latte, I tell my friends I’ll catch up later. They bite back smiles, shaking their heads, knowing me all too well, probably better than I know myself. I can’t handle the heat this man brings.

  “Hey,” Benji says, following me out of the bakery. “You headed to your truck?”

  I nod. “Yeah. You?”

  He nods and gets in step with me. I take a sip of my latte, grateful I ordered it iced today. And it has nothing to do with the sun already shining. It has everything to do with the man next to me.

  “So tonight,” he says. “Wanna come over to my house?”

  “I thought I was supposed to be treating you?”

  He shrugs. “You can bring the wine.”

  I try to think of a way to argue. A reason to argue. I have no other plans tonight and I am curious about Benji’s house. He lived with Wyatt the first few months after he moved to town, but I heard from Windsor he was remodeling a cabin on the outskirts of town.

  “Okay, what time?”

  He laughs. “Wow, I thought it would be a harder sell. Must mean you want to spend time with me.”

  “I thought you were gonna give me marketing advice. Isn't that what this dinner is all about?” I stop, facing him, our eyes locked. I want him to say no. I want him to say that it’s an excuse. I want him to say that this is a date.

  He doesn’t.

  “I know, Tillie, just giving you a hard time. I’ll text you my address.” He hands me his phone. “Can you type in your contact info?”

  I take the phone and fill in my number, then hand it back to him. As I do, I notice a Chatter notification flash on his screen.

  When he takes his phone back, he swipes on the notification.

  “Another adoring fan sliding into your DMs?” I tease. Swallowing back the truth: the thought of him texting another woman right now seriously sucks. I want all of this man’s attention… even if I don’t know how to tell him that.

  He just shrugs. “Something like that.” He smirks. “Why, jealous?”

  I roll my eyes, laughing sharply. “What? Me, jealous? Never.” Then I walk quickly to my truck, needing to make a batch of cold brew, asap. Today is gonna be a scorcher — in more ways than one.

  It’s not even nine a.m. and I already need a cold shower.

  When I arrive at Benji’s house, it’s just after seven p.m. I took that shower after work, and took my time getting ready. Even though Kensie is in Seattle with Kodiak, she took the time to FaceTime me to approve my outfit. I kept telling her this wasn’t a date, and that the outfit check wasn’t necessary, but she’s been my best friend all my life. She knows I am not telling her the entire story.

  I ride my bike over to Benji’s with wine in the basket. Turns out I don’t live very far from him. And the temperature has cooled slightly from the high heat of the day, making the two-mile bike ride in the woods a beautiful change of pace.

  It reminds me again why I love Linesworth so much. The looming pine trees, the fresh scent of the woods, the pinecone covered ground. I see squirrels skittering and birds landing on fallen logs, lush dark green moss covering the branches, and sunlight filteri
ng through it all.

  Now, standing at Benji’s front steps with the bottle of white wine in hand, in a flowy sundress that hits mid-thigh, I feel relaxed, with a smile on my face.

  And when Benji answers the door, I try not to gawk.

  He’s in a towel, nothing else. At all. And also, there are plumes of smoke. Everywhere.

  “What happened?” I ask as he runs around opening windows. I jump in to help, sliding open the back door. There is no furniture to leap around — the place is basically empty, except for a futon. A bachelor pad, all right.

  Realizing there isn’t imminent danger, I relax. It’s way too smoky to stay inside but at least the cabin isn’t burning down. “Shouldn’t you be live Chattering this or something?”

  Dismissing my comment, he groans. “I jumped in the shower and didn’t turn off the stove first. The salmon was under the broiler, asparagus sautéing in a pan.” He runs a hand through his thick hair, flustered in a way I’ve never seen him. He is always so insanely, perfectly charming and rueful. Now he looks human. And for some reason, this makes my heart pitter-patter and my belly flip-flop and I feel like a cliché. But I don’t care. I swallow, spun up and undone at the exact same time.

  “Sorry, Tillie,” he says, disheveledly endearing. “Dinner is completely charred.”

  I lick my lips. “Well, you can always come over to my place.”

  5

  Benji

  It’s crazy, the desire I have to impress Tillie. Clearly I fucked that up, along with dinner. Now she is looking over at her bike, ready for an escape. I know she can’t stand me.

  Still, her words hang in the air that is thick with smoke.

  “You want me at your house?” I ask, wanting to make sure I heard her correctly.

  She shrugs. “I can throw something together. Do you have a bike?”