The Mountain Man's Kitten - Thickwood CO

But Miller has ruined more of my panties in the three years I’ve been obsessing over him than I can count. We’ve run into each other over the years at little town events, or the grocery, or the diner where Curtis is a line cook.

I’ve given up even attempting to say hello, because the humiliation of his silence when I gather my courage to even eep out the smallest greeting is too much. He hates me. I don’t blame him either.

My father has been suing him for two years over an easement he needs straight through Miller’s property for a utility line, so he can develop a couple of properties on land he bought just after we moved here.

Miller is also a builder of some sort, and my father has bought out land from under him a few times, causing him to lose contracts and a large amount of cash.

My dad can be a grade A asshole when it comes to business. But with me? He’s an amazing father, and I’ve always known he would be there for me through anything.

To everyone else, however, he’s a complete prick.

I’m sure Miller hates my father in equal measure. And I suppose it doesn’t matter much, since the few times we’ve been around each other he can’t get away fast enough, so there’s no use worrying they’ll get into a fist-to-cuffs at the rehearsal dinner or anything.

Even with my unnatural, and unrequited, obsession with the mountain man of Thickwood, I’ve been happy since we moved here.

My phone rings and I see it’s the owner of the veterinary practice, which makes her my boss when I’m here with the shelter. Not that this is my main job. I’m now proudly a registered nurse after graduating college. Landed my dream job at the NICU in the local hospital, too.

I’ve always loved babies. And animals so in the grand scope of things, my life is damn good.

“Hi.” I answer, and Dr. Shirley Temple—yes, her parents had a sense of humor—is on the other end.

“Hey. Everything going okay?”

“Yep. Nothing out of the ordinary. Things are getting ready to start here, and we’re all set up.”

“Great.” She’s super kind and started the rescue shelter with her own funds, converting an old barn on part of her property for the purpose. “Thanks for taking point this weekend.”

“Of course.” I smile, watching as Curtis comes around the table and under the canopy, grabbing a bottle of water and swigging it down. “Getting married is a fairly good reason to take a weekend off.”

“Yes, just hate to put it all on you.”

“Never mind. Will you just go have some fun? Lake Tahoe is a fun place and you’re on your honeymoon. Why are you even calling me?”

She laughs. “I just worry.”

“Well stop. We’ve got it all under control. We’ve got a heap more volunteers coming later, and the twins are going to spend the night in the shelter after we get everyone that isn’t adopted settled back in later this afternoon.”

“Thank you so much. Okay, guess I’ll go do some honeymoon stuff.” She snorts and I laugh.

“Sounds good. Not too much information though, okay?”

“No problem. Talk to you Monday.”

With that, we sign off and for the next few hours, Curtis, myself, the twins—and a few more volunteers—play with the animals, talk and interview potential adoptive families and I try to keep my focus on the work.

Not on the huge open field where burly men from around the country are engaged in all sorts of lumberjacky, highlander sort of competitions.

It’s not the games I’m so interested in.

It’s Miller. And whenever I’ve caught a glimpse of him, way off in the distance, I can barely breathe. He’s not just huge. He’s sturdy in just the right way. There are bigger guys at the competition, like The Mountain from GoT big.

Miller’s not small by any stretch, but he’s just the right mix of hard muscle and thickness, without being grotesque. Whenever I’ve been close to him, I feel small. I’ve battled eating disorders since I was little and although I no longer obsess about my weight, I still have to be careful to keep that side of me in check. I run a couple of times a week, and it helps to balance my calorie intake by forcing me to get some nutrition. I know if I didn’t focus on fitness, rather than food, there’s a danger it would get out of hand again.

There’s a huge cheer and applause that comes from the field, and I see what must be most of the competitors gathering around one of them. It’s Miller.

They are swatting him on the back, high fives and fist bumps, which tells me he’s won.

Again.

He’s holding up a trophy as the cheering ebbs.

At my size, I’m sure he could hold me against the wall, kiss me…fuck me…do whatever he wants with me like a little doll. I let the thoughts take me away for a moment as my face gets hot and the tension between my legs has me drawing a shaking breathe.