Page 47 of The Mountain Man's Mail-Order Mafia Princess

I put one hand against the counter beside her and kissed her slowly. She caught the front of my shirt.

She ended the kiss first.

“That was much better,” she said.

“Better than what?”

“Watching you consider whether affection requires a permit.”

“I wasn’t considering that.”

“You should be grateful I’m not charging for the advice.”

“You aren’t my therapist.”

“No. I’m the woman you’re supposed to be kissing.”

I laughed against her mouth.

Talia smiled and kissed me once more before turning back to the counter.

We ate eggs with tomatoes, onion, and cheese at the small table. Sunlight warmed the floorboards, and the open window carried in pine and the dry scent of dust from the road.

Talia tucked one bare foot beneath her chair.

“What are you doing today?” she asked.

“I need to check the saws, sharpen two chains, and work on the truck before the next job.”

“Do you need help?”

“Not with the saws.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

I raised an eyebrow.

She lifted her coffee. “I’m aware that my current equipment qualifications begin and end with knowing chainsaws are loud.”

“You can hand me tools if you want.”

“That sounds dangerously close to admitting I could be useful.”

“I already know you can be useful.”

She stopped with the cup near her mouth.

I picked up my fork.

“You could’ve warned me before saying something sweet,” she said.

“It wasn’t sweet.”

“You should stop trying to take things back after they work.”

The next day settled into a rhythm I hadn’t planned.

Talia wore fitted tanks, denim shorts, her new boots, and enough jewelry to catch sunlight from across the yard. She sat on the porch while I worked on equipment without stepping into my space or touching anything dangerous.