Ordered By The Mountain Man(34)

I scream out in frustration.

As if he was just waiting for my cry for help, I see Boone. My Boone, looking down at me.

“Shit. Delta?” Boone asks, concerned.

“Hey. So.” I shrug, pointing toward my propped ankle. It’s propped on a pile of dirt. I’m classy like that.

“Is it broke?”

“I think it’s just sprained.

“Shit. What the hell were you thinking?”

“That my fiancé just broke things off with me. In the middle of nowhere. Without cell service. I was thinking that my life was a pretty massive cluster-fuck and that I was basically screwed.”

“Right.” Boone runs his hand through his hair and I want him to say he is sorry and beg for my forgiveness. I don’t know when I became such a sappy, desperate woman, but I’m guessing it was somewhere in the space of this week, when I realized being his was the only thing I wanted. “Hang on; I’ll get help.”

He doesn’t apologize, just steps from the edge of the hole.

It sounds like he’s jogging off, and I know I didn’t get terribly far from the house. I mean, I may be stupid but I’m not such an idiot that I’d run into a bear-infested mountain without protection. I just figured I’d take a leisurely run to the edge of the property and clear my head.

It didn’t work. Not even sort of.

“Delta,” Boone calls, now back from his mission to get help. “Can you hold onto this rope?”

I nod, because I can, and I want out. And soon enough I see the crew of fishing and hunting guides crowd around the hole, around me, and a few jump into the hole, helping lift me into a makeshift sling that the guys tie around my waist. And then Boone holds the rope, pulling me up with his bare hands and brute strength, and I want to both kiss him and smack him for coming out here and finding me. I want to run and hide, and I want to be found.

Which makes me feel like a real throwback in terms of feminism and women’s lib, because this is the guy who was just a complete ass to me ... and then the moment he becomes my knight in shining armor, all I want is to jump his bones.

Still, I’m not jumping anything because my ankle hurts like hell. Instead of slapping him, I let him pull me into his arms and carry me out of the woods, into the lodge, up the stairs and onto our—I mean, his—bed.

“It really hurts,” I tell him, but he’s not listening. He’s already sending Sally downstairs for bandages and ice packs. He’s already rooting around for ibuprofen and a glass of water. He’s already sitting on the edge of the bed, telling me to open up as he sets the pill on my tongue.

I swallow.

I hate this—letting him save me, when the truth is he pushed me away.

But also ... maybe it’s exactly what I want. Him to stay. Me to stay. No one to go, ever.

I love him.

Loved him?

I want him, maybe more than ever.

“Delta,” he begins, once my foot is wrapped tightly and an ice pack is set on top. Pillow under my foot, and my back propped up with a mountain of pillows.

“Yes?” I don’t want to fight. I thought when I first met him that we were bad for one another. But someone invented the phrase so bad it’s good for a reason.

We aren’t bad for one another, we’re perfect.

Boone’s tension is back; his face is covered in hard lines and unforgiving eyes. It isn’t fair. I want to explain, but I hate that I have to.

“I have something to tell you,” he says.

I draw in a sharp breath. Pastor Vince is coming tomorrow. We should be getting married. That was what I wanted to tell him—announce—this afternoon when I found him in the outbuilding. I wanted to tell him I was his, undoubtedly, forever.

“What is it, Boone?”

“I know you can’t move, so I’m going to get Sally to pack your things. It’s time to go.”

My eyes fill with tears, and whatever confidence I carried is gone. Boone doesn’t want to hear me out.

He doesn’t want me at all.





Chapter Twenty-One





Boone





Delta sits back on the pile of pillows, her foot propped up. I hate to see her this way—tears in her eyes, shaking her head, confused.

I fucked it up again.

“Don’t cry, Delta,” I tell her, taking her hand.

“I hate it when people say that. Why is crying so bad anyway? It’s what makes me human.”

“I didn’t say you shouldn’t be human, woman. I just said ... don’t.... Okay, I did say not to cry.”

The corner of her lip pulls up ever so slightly. “Did you just admit defeat, Boone?”

I shrug, running my hand over my beard, a smile hitching across my face. Damn it, I am so over my head with this woman.