Page 19 of Mountain Grump Protector

We're mostly quiet on the drive back. It's not until I pull into the yard and it’s mercifully free of any signs of Hatch and his idiot friends that I finally say, "Whatever you need to be comfortable here for a few days, just let me know."

“I can't stay forever.”

“A few days,” I repeat. “Long enough for Hatch to worry about something else and forget about you.” Not that I think any man could ever forget about Willow. Not if he was paying attention. She was not the kind of woman you forget about. “And for me to get the money I owe him together,” I say, refocusing myself on the matter at hand. “Then he’ll have no reason to bother you anymore.”

I hoped like hell that was true.

Having Willow in my space for a few days was going to be hard enough. I didn’t need to prolong it.

I get out of the truck and go around to the other door to help her out, but she’s already jumped to the ground. I don’t miss the wince of pain on her face when she takes a step.

I reach for her, but she pulls away, shooting me a look. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” I glance down at her boots with a smirk.

I know enough about this woman already to know that she’s about to do her damndest to prove me wrong, so I cross my arms over my chest and watch while she limps her way through a few more steps.

She works hard to swallow back the gasps of discomfort, but I’ve seen enough.

With a sigh and a shake of my head, I close the distance between us, bend, and scoop her up easily in my arms.

As I knew she would, she immediately puts up a fight, but I hold her tight so she can’t hit me and look down at her pretty face and those delicious lips that I very recently had the pleasure of tasting for myself.

“Put me down.”

There’s enough fire in her voice that under any other circumstances, I probably would’ve laughed.

I tighten my hold on her and keep walking toward the cabin while she squirms against my chest and tries her best to bruise my ribs.

Murph, sensing the excitement, hops down from his spot on the porch and jumps and barks around us as I carry her across the yard.

“You done?”

“Put me down,” she says, this time through gritted teeth.

“You’re not walking on those feet, Willow.” I soften my voice enough to let her know I’m not joking. “Not unless you plan on hopping the rest of the way.”

Her lips press together like she’s trying not to react, which tells me I might be getting closer to a real smile.

And now, more than anything, I want to see that smile aimed in my direction.

Which is a problem.

I shouldn’t care whether she smiles at me. And I definitely shouldn’t care that some of the fear is finally easing out of her.

But I do. And that’s going to be trouble if I don’t get a handle on it. Especially after that kiss.

“You’re so annoying,” she mutters under her breath and looks away.

“I’ve heard that before.”

She huffs out a breath and finally stops fighting me as I carry her up the porch steps. I’m not stupid enough to believe that she suddenly trusts me, but I also don’t think Willow’s a fool. She might be stubborn, but so am I, and I’m pretty sure she understands that I’m not going to put her down until I can take a proper look at her feet.

The moment her body relaxes against mine, every muscle in mine stiffens in response.

It’s been way too long since I’ve held a woman like this. Or at all.

Definitely long enough to forget how dangerous it can be when it feels this good. She smells like the grass and flowers from the bushes we’d been hiding in. But there’s something else lingering there, too. Something a little spicy. Just like her.