A Mountain Man Walks into a Coffee Shop: Small-Town MM Romance Novella by Mal Trevino

Author:Mal Trevino [Trevino, Mal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mal Trevino
Published: 2023-12-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Josiah

I wake to a strange sound and a warm but empty couch.

Slowly, I let my hand drift over the sliver of cushion where Lennon had been lying, held in place by my arm around his waist. I can’t believe I brought someone back here. I can’t believe I did it so willingly.

And, God, I was willing.

A smile starts to spread across my face, tugging at the scar on my chin. It doesn’t hurt, not after so many years, but I can feel the difference in the tension of skin. Normally, I’d pull the expression back in. Today, I can’t quite seem to do it.

I listen for signs of Lennon. Nothing coming from the kitchen or the bathroom. Hell, not even my bedroom. There’s just the sound of the woodstove ticking with heat expansion. Clumps of heavy snow falling out of the trees and onto the roof. The neighborhood owl.

But then I hear it. A sound from outside, rhythmic and soft. Footsteps.

I push myself up to peer over the back of the couch. I squint out of the big picture window of the living room. But the sun has only just begun to rise, barely visible between the trees, and I can’t see much detail, except for the snow continuing to fall and clot on the windowsill.

The stomping grows nearer until it’s right out front. Then the door swings open, and Lennon steps back inside.

I grin at him, giddy at seeing him again. But when I look up to meet his eyes, he looks stricken. I frown.

“You all right?” I ask him.

He opens his mouth to answer. Closes it again. Looks sick. He’s fully dressed in all of his winter gear, and he’s cloaked in snow up to his knees.

And that’s when I put it together.

“Oh,” I say, shoving a hand through my hair, suddenly filled with awkward anxiety inside my own home. “Um. You probably couldn’t get your car out, huh?”

Lennon swallows. “Snowed in.”

I force a pleasant nod. “County plows don’t come out this way, but my brother’s got a plow on his truck. I’ll let him know we need one when he can get out this way.”

Lennon watches me, his pretty eyes worried under a creased brow. “Josiah, I’m sorry—”

“Coffee?” I ask.

Lennon blinks at me. The front door is still open, his hand still on the knob. Cold air billows in and, behind him, the sky is slowly filling with the soft light of a snowy morning.

We’re going to be in this cabin together for the next few hours at least. It’s Christmas morning, and people in town will want to get on the road, so Sam’s going to have his hands full with paying plow jobs. We’ll be a last priority for him. The least I can do is not make this awkward.

Even if we’re going to have to do the most awkward thing possible: we’re going to have to talk to each other.

So I don’t wait for an answer. I just start a pot of water. Scoop coffee into the French press.

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