Page 6 of The Mountain Man's Paradise
“And this weekend?”
“This weekend is for Mindy.” I glance back toward the terrace, though we can’t see it from here. “She’s the closest thing I have to a sister. I want everything to be easy for her.”
“You’re good at taking care of people.”
I look down, smoothing my thumb over a tiny uneven spot in the stone. “I try.”
“You do more than try.”
I don’t know what to do with the way he says it. Most men flirt by trying to be charming. Barrett doesn’t seem to try at all. He just sees something, says it, and leaves me standing there with my skin warm and my heartbeat unsteady.
“You’ve been watching me,” I say.
“Yes.”
I lift my eyes to his. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
His gaze drops to my mouth, then returns. “I’m not good at pretending I don’t want what I want.”
The quiet around us thickens. The ocean keeps moving in the dark, but I barely hear it over the pulse in my ears. Barrett steps closer, slowly enough that I could move away. I don’t. My body stays exactly where it is, back against the low wall, chin lifted as he closes the space between us.
“Rosalyn.”
My name in his voice is low and rough, and I feel it everywhere. “Yes?”
“I’m going to kiss you.”
I should remember the welcome drinks, the guests, the fact that I brought him here to give him air. But his hand settles against the side of my face, and the choice is so clear that I don’t have to think about it.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Barrett doesn’t rush it. His mouth dips to mine with unwavering certainty, and my entire body responds before my mind can catch up. I press my hands to the front of his shirt, feeling solid muscle under my palms, and he makes a low sound that sends warmth through every needy, inexperienced part of me. His other hand settles at my waist, wanting but not demanding, holding me there while he deepens the kiss enough to make the world narrow to his mouth, his hands, his heat.
I’ve never felt anything like this before. Not even close.
When he finally lifts his head, I’m clutching his shirt. His thumb moves once along my cheek, and his eyes search mine with an intensity that makes me feel seen to my core.
“I—uh—should get back,” I stammer. “Mindy might need me.”
“She might.”
And yet I don’t move.
Barrett’s hand remains at my waist for one more breath before he lets me go. The loss of contact is sharp. I step back, smooth both of my unsteady hands down the front of my dress, and try to find the version of myself who can manage welcome drinks, ceremony details, and relatives with sunscreen emergencies.
She feels very, very far away.
“I’ll see you back there?” I ask.
His eyes stay on mine. “Yep.”
I make it three steps up the path before I look back, and Barrett is exactly where I left him, tall and still beneath the lanterns, watching me with no intention of looking anywhere else.
I hurry toward the noise of the party with my lips still warm and my thoughts scattered beyond repair.
3
BARRETT
