Hashtagged By The Mountain Man Page 2

  “Yeah, that’s why I like you. You’re honest, Kensie, not manipulative, and don’t hide things. You’d never post stuff about me online would you?”

  Heat rises to her cheeks and I guess the compliments embarrass her. “Of course not.” Then, in an uncharacteristically gentle tone she asks, "So, you’re single?"

  "I am." I set my hand on hers. "But I don’t want to be."

  "No?" The way her eyes are fixed on mine makes me think Clive was fucking right. She is interested. How long has she felt this way?

  "Go out with me, tonight," I say. "There’s a concert at the bar down the street. It’s a benefit in honor of Luke, a man who died on the mountain a decade ago."

  She smiles softly. "I know. I remember him."

  "Oh, really?"

  She nods. "I grew up here, remember? Born and raised. I’m a small-town girl, Kodiak. You sure you want to date me? Everyone in this town has my back. My parents run the grocery store, and my sister, Windsor, is nannying for your buddy, Charlie, this summer."

  I lift an eyebrow. "You trying to scare me away?"

  She shakes her head. "No. Just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into when it comes to me."

  "We’ve been talking for months now, I know what you’re all about. And I like it. A lot." I look her up and down, and the truth is so damn clear. She’s the one for me.

  She exhales through her tightly pursed lips as if it’s taking all her concentration to not lose control. She’s all hot and bothered; I can see that when I look at her.

  With her chin dipped, she lifts her eyes. "And you think you can handle me?"

  I chuckle. "I’ve held back asking you out because I’m concerned about you being able to handle me."

  She laughs, rolling her eyes as she begins wiping the counter.

  "Look, Kensie, I’ve seen the guys who hit on you.”

  She washes her hands and starts making my mocha, her lips all twisted. It has my heart in fucking knots. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

  I lean in, taking the chance while it’s here. “We may be opposites, but we’re the kind that attract."

  She hands me my drink. "Extra whip, just how you like it."

  I nod. "That’s right. See, I need a little whipped cream to sweeten me up."

  She laughs. "Is this really happening?"

  I nod. "It’s about goddamn time, right?"

  She swipes her finger over the whip, and pulls it to her mouth, licking it off, my cock twitching the whole fucking time,

  "Okay then," Kensie says, pushing away from the counter. "It’s a date."

  3

  Kensie

  Kodiak sits down with his coffee and newspaper. And I immediately go to the backroom to hyperventilate and text my bestie.

  Me: LITERALLY DYING.

  Matilda: ???????????

  Me: He just asked me out.

  Matilda: Who?

  Me: #MyMountainMan.

  Matilda: No. Effing. Way.

  Me: I know. The benefit at the pub tonight. I can’t even.

  [Imagine fourteen thousand OMG emojis.]

  Me: What should I wear?

  Matilda: Your place, after your shift?

  Me: Please. Also, bring a bottle of rosé.

  Matilda: Obviously.

  When my breathing returns to normal, I head back to the cafe and start managing the customers in line, trying not to gawk at my personal man candy where he sits in a leather armchair. Every so often, he looks up at me and I swear he’s looking less intense, less brooding, more relaxed. At ease. As if a massive weight has just been lifted from his shoulders.

  Was I that weight???

  Breathe, Kensie.

  When my customers are gone, I pull out my phone and stand behind the pastry case taking a photo of him as he reads the paper. I open a photo editing app and crop the photo of Kodiak. Looking closer at his face, there is something different about this particular shot.

  His eyes are brighter, his lips are ever-so-slightly upturned. The hint of a smile changes everything, It’s the best picture of him I’ve ever taken.

  Then I pause, thinking about what he said about his ex. You’d never post stuff about me online would you?

  Shit. Still, my fingers hover over the buttons and I do the thing I know I shouldn’t. I post it to my Instagram account. My profile has thousands of followers now. And every time I feel slightly guilty about being such a stalker, I think about how Kodiak’s face makes every single woman who looks at him a little happier.

  How can something that feels so good be wrong? Besides, I will delete it all tomorrow. I need one more night to look through the photos and make sure they are all backed up to my phone.

  I caption the image with #MyMountainMan #HeAskedMeOut #DreamsDoComeTrue #OMG #ICantEven and a string of emojis that pretty much sum up my life: a mountain, smoochy faces, a heart, and a tongue, because with a beard like that there is one thing that really sums up what I’d like to do with him. #LickThisKitty

  When Kodiak finishes reading the paper, he returns to the counter, rapping his knuckles against the wood. "So tonight, I’ll pick you up at seven?"

  I nod. "Sure. I can text you my address."

  He reaches in his pocket, frowning. "Crap, I must have left my phone at the shop."

  "That’s okay," I say, reaching into my apron and getting mine. The Instagram app is still open, and I close it as quick as I can, hoping Kodiak didn’t see.

  "You use Instagram?" he asks

  Biting my lip, I nod. "Yep. Do you?"

  He shrugs. "Not really. I have an account for the bike shop, but I never really use it. Rather live in the moment, kinda thing, you know?"

  "Right. I mean, me either. I should delete it, I like, hardly ever--"

  He cuts me off. "Kensie, it’s cool. I know you love that kind of thing."

  "What kind of thing?"

  "Pop culture? You’re the one who got me to watch the Kardashians. How else will you know the details of their lives?"

  "You watch the Kardashians?" I bust up laughing.

  His impressive beard covers most of his face, but I see hints of pink on his cheeks. "Dammit, I wasn’t gonna let it slip."

  I lean over the counter dramatically. Kodiak’s eyes lower and I’m aware of the cleavage I must be flashing. I don’t move. "Tell me everythinggggg."

  He presses his hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes. "I should be embarrassed, but I’m not. I started watching it because you talk about and... I don’t know, I wanted a conversation starter."

  Cracking up, I can’t help but admit that I’m flattered. "Yet, you never brought it up. What gives?"

  He grins. "What can I say? I never found a seamless way to mention Khloe’s break up or Kim’s post-baby body."

  I stand up straight, looking Kodiak over. "Who are you even?"

  "Trouble."

  Laughter escapes my lips once more. "You are being more flirty then you’ve ever been in six months. What gives?"

  He sighs. "Clive told me I needed to put up or shut up."

  "You told Clive about me?"

  He clears his throat. "Does that bother you?"

  I shake my head. "No. Now give me your number. I have a date to get ready for."

  "Are you gonna tell him?" Matilda asks, digging through my closet.

  "Tell him what?" I pull down the dress and look in the mirror.

  "That you have a thousand photos off him stored on your phone that you are sharing with the world at large?"

  I tug the dress over my head. It’s too slinky and over the top. I want to look effortless tonight.

  "Of course not. That would make me seem..."

  "Crazy?"

  "Right." I refill Matilda’s mason jar with rosé and we sit down on my bed. My bedroom is a mess, clothes and shoes everywhere, but it always looks this way. I figure if everything is put in its place then there is no room for creativity.

  "When will he be here?" Matilda asks.

  "In like twenty mi
nutes."

  "You’re still in your bra and underwear."

  Blowing a strand of hair from my eyes I bite the side of my lip. "Maybe I should answer the door wearing this. Maybe he can help me figure out what to put on."

  "You’re so bad, Kensie."

  "But oh, so good," I say, laughing. "Do you think his friends will be at the benefit?"

  "I think the entire town will be there. I’m going with the crew from the Farmer’s Market." Matilda sells her pottery at the market and it’s a tight-knit group of vendors.

  "My parents are going too," I say with a groan.

  She grimaces. "Awkward much."

  "Exactly. Now you know why I want to stay here instead."

  "You have to go. It would be weird if you didn’t. Plus," she adds, cracking herself up, "this way Kodiak can ask your dad for your hand in marriage."

  I laugh. "Right, because I’m marriage material."

  Matilda takes my hand and squeezes it. "Actually, you are. Stop selling yourself short. All you’ve ever wanted is to be a mom and a wife. Yet, you keep dating these boys whose parents still pay their phone bills. Kodiak is a real man. If you want a husband, he’s the real deal."

  I lift an eyebrow. "You’ve thought this through."

  She shrugs. "Hey, no shame. I want to get married too. We’re twenty-four, we’ve moved back to our hometown after college. We’re in it for the long haul. We know what we want. I don’t think you should tiptoe around what you’re actually looking for."

  "So, I shouldn’t just be Kodiak’s fuck-buddy. Is that what you’re saying?"

  "If that’s what you want, awesome. But I don’t think it is."

  "So, I should lead with asking him how many kids he wants? Matilda, that would freak him the eff out."

  Matilda scoffs. "So? Girl, there are worse things than telling a man what you really want."

  "If Kodiak knew what I really wanted..." I sigh, my hand running over my duvet, thinking about all the things I want with Kodiak. Of course, I want him to push me against a door and do naughty things... but I also want so much more.

  "He’d know you’re not messing around. That you are confident, opinionated, and the real deal."

  I look at my best friend, appreciating her pep talk. "I think he knows I’m opinionated and confident. But I don’t think he knows how serious I am. It’s always been playful with us. Never heavy."

  Matilda hands me a glass of wine, then she clinks hers against mine. "Then here’s to getting down to the nitty-gritty."

  "I sure hope that’s a euphemism," I say just as the doorbell rings. "Oh, fuck."

  "Is that your mountain man?"

  I look at the time on my phone and groan. "Yes. It is."

  4

  Kodiak

  When Matilda, Kensie’s best friend and regular at the coffee shop, answers the door I can’t help but frown. "Uh, is Kensie here?"

  Matilda steps onto the front porch of the little bungalow and gives me smile that says something is up. "Yep, Kensie’s just running a little late. She’s still getting ready. She said to wait inside for her."

  "Oh, okay, well thanks."

  "Of course. Be nice to my bestie," she says with a wave as she heads down the walkway toward the sidewalk that leads to Main Street.

  "Kensie?" I ask, stepping inside her place and closing the front door behind me. "It’s me, Kodiak."

  She pokes her head out of a bedroom door, her shoulders bare, her hair loose, not a lick of makeup on her face.

  "Hey, Kodiak. Sorry, I lost track of time. I’ll just be a sec. Want a beer while you wait? It’s in the fridge." She pops away from the door and I can’t help thinking about what she looks like on the other side, undressed in her bedroom. I adjust myself as I walk toward the fridge, thinking about just how badly I want this girl.

  "Sure, yeah, thanks," I tell her, pulling open the fridge. It’s practically empty. She has leftover Thai takeout and a bottle of champagne, along with a six-pack of Rainier. I grab a can and pop it open, taking a swig as I look around her place. It’s a small one-bedroom house, and I know from conversations that her parents own it. It’s a disaster, empty mugs on the coffee table, books and magazines in haphazard stacks, her bags and purses on the armchair-turned-coat rack.

  I love the fact she didn’t spend all day cleaning her place to make a "good" impression.

  That is the thing about Kensie: she is who she is, no false pretenses.

  "Should I wear jeans or a dress?" Kenzie asks, poking her head out the door again.

  I walk toward her door. "Can I see both?"

  "You want to come see the options?"

  "You wanted my opinion, didn’t you?"

  She nods, biting her bottom lip. "Yeah, right, of course," she says breathlessly.

  "What is it?" I say, my hand on her doorknob, wanting so badly to step inside. "You look nervous, Kens."

  "It’s just you. Here. In my house. It’s just..."

  I lift an eyebrow. "Just what?"

  "Just a lot of..." She moves her hand in a circle in front of my body. "A lot of man."

  I give her an easy grin, knowing she loves them, especially since I offer them so rarely. "I thought we already discussed this -- you were worried I might not be able to handle you."

  "Right. But that was before I was in my bra and panties and the only thing separating us was a door."

  I lean in closer, tempting her to the best of my abilities. "You didn’t give me that option."

  She squints her eyes, confused.

  "When you told me what you were deciding to wear," I say, "you said a dress or jeans. Nothing about panties."

  "You don’t think I should wear any?" she asks.

  "I think you should do whatever you want to, Kensie."

  She smirks, her fingers easing up on the hold on her door. "Whatever or whoever?"

  "Both."

  She laughs, that easy, bright laugh that makes me want to wrap her in my arms and never let go. That makes me want to hold her hand and let her lead us into the goddamn light.

  She steps back from the door, pulling it open as she does.

  I clench my jaw, standing in her doorway. Early evening light filters through her curtains, she’s an angelic silhouette, standing here for me.

  "Why the hell did I wait so long to ask you out?" I look her over, she’s in a pair of white boy shorts, her waist narrow, her hips curvy, and her cute tits are in a pushup bra that gets me all kinds of ready.

  "I have no idea," she says with a shrug as she gathers her hair in her hands and secures it in a messy bun atop her head. "I’ve been kind of obvious."

  "Oh yeah?" I ask, stepping toward her. Once I touch her bare skin, I know it’s all over. That benefit is gonna have to wait. "I never thought you were interested."

  She laughs. "That’s because you are always so busy reading the paper you never read my cues."

  "You’ve wanted this to happen for a while, then?" I ask, standing a foot away from her. The rise and fall of her chest is goddamn beautiful, her eyes sparkle and her lips are parted, giving me so many ideas.

  "I’ve wanted it to happen since the day we met, Kodiak. You are..."

  "What?"

  "Everything I want."

  "How do you know?" I ask, closing the divide, my arm wrapping around her waist. "You’ve never even seen me naked."

  Her eyelids flutter as I pull her closer. I know she feels how hard I am because the tiniest whimper escapes her pouty lips.

  "I’ve seen you without a shirt when you’re out biking."

  I lift a brow. "You’ve been watching me?"

  Her cheeks turn bright pink and I love the idea of this sweet thing keeping her eye on me. "You could say that," she says gently.

  My fingers move to unhook her bra, and she exhales. "This is happening, Kensie. You ready?"

  She nods. "So damn ready."

  I lift her chin, lower my face. I need to kiss this woman -- the one I’ve been thinking about for months on end. The one
who makes the world brighter, easier to navigate. The one who has unknowingly worked her magic over me. Who makes a single comment and causes me to buy new clothes, watch new television, try new things.

  This woman who has me hard as fuck, who has me groaning in pleasure after just one kiss, who has me thinking Clive was right. Best case scenario, I will make this girl my wife.

  Her lips are sweet like wine and her tongue finds mine. My hand holds her at the base of her neck and for a moment, time stops. It’s just us, here. Her mouth on my mouth, our bodies pressed together, the heat of the moment impossible to ignore.

  "God, I want you," I groan against her.

  "You do, truly?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper. Holding her face, I look into her eyes and see something I haven’t seen before. A gentler, softer side. She’s always the outgoing one, the one with the personality. But right now, it’s clear she wants me to take charge.

  "Kensie, it’s all I want." I toss her bra aside, running my palms over her perfect little tits. They are small and perky, her nipples hard, and I love the way my hands can cup them easily. Like they are precious and something to treasure.

  She closes her eyes as I lean down, pulling her breast into my mouth, rolling my tongue over her nipple. A hunger courses through my veins with every lick, every swirl of my tongue. Her hands run through my hair, and I push down her panties, gripping her ass with my palms. It’s round and full; an ass a man can hold onto.

  "You’re so hard," she manages to say, and I nod, stepping away so I can take her the way she was meant to be taken. Completely. Entirely. On the bed and against the door. On the floor and the countertops. I want to fuck this girl until my name is the only one she remembers; until my body is the only one she can picture. I want to fuck her until I’m the only man she ever thinks about--the only man she needs.

  I strip to nothing, aware of the way her eyes rake over me as I remove each piece of clothing. I drop them on the floor, where they are instantly swallowed up by the piles of clothes she has scattered everywhere. Jewelry and scarves are scattered all around, makeup all over the vanity, along with brushes and curling irons, and everywhere I look there are shoes. So many fucking shoes. And I love it. She is a beautiful mess, a lovely disaster, and utterly perfect because of it.