Page 1 of Loyal to the Mountain Man

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KELSEY

Holy hell. This was the most boring hour of my life.

Until now, the Glamour Diva conference had been great. We had dinner last night and an inspiring welcome message from the president of our direct sales company to start the day. But currently, I was sitting in a session about hot, warm, and cold leads and it had me rethinking this business venture.

At the half-hour mark, the presenter pulled up a slide about conversion rates, and I was eyeing the aisle. I’d purposely sat on the end near the back of the room. I always wanted an escape route. I was that person at a party who excused herself to go to the bathroom and found a back exit, disappearing and hoping nobody would notice.

In one graceful move, I snatched up the complimentary tote bag we’d gotten at registration and hauled ass out of the room. The gigantic metal doors at the back made a loud click as I pushed my way out. You’d think by now they would’ve found a way to make these hotel meeting room doors quieter.

But this wasn’t a hotel, technically. It was the Rosewood Retreat Center in East Tennessee, just a couple of hours from my hometown.

The lobby was empty, so I felt like I was getting away with something as I made a beeline for the campground, where I’d find my tent with my e-reader and snacks. Maybe I’d take a quick hike up the mountain and look for a nice, quiet place to read.

I actually breathed a sigh of relief as I stepped out the back door and past the pool area. There was a lone swimmer in the pool, but I could barely make out the outline of the person. I wondered if it was someone who’d escaped the morning sessions like I had.

I smiled at the thought. Maybe I’d grab my bathing suit and join whoever it was.

Still smiling to myself, I exited the flower-lined pathway onto the campground. I was so caught up in my thoughts, it took my mind a second to register that something was off about the scene in front of me.

There were two rows of tents like before, with a large open green space in between. But lying in the middle of all that, taking a nap, was a dog.

As I came to a stop, the dog’s head lifted slowly. Then, as if he’d suddenly registered that he wasn’t alone, the dog pushed his little body to a standing position and started rushing toward me.

A wiener dog. I wasn’t sure of the exact name of that type of dog, but people called them wiener dogs. They had short legs and long, slim bodies. This one wore a collar, and a tag flopped around as he ran. I was already in a squatting position, ready to take a look at that tag, by the time he got to me.

“Hi, Maggie,” I read, petting her with my left hand as I held the tag with my right.

That was all the tag read. Maggie. No phone number or address. How was I supposed to track down the owner without some basic information?

Sighing, I scooped her up. “You’re coming with me.”

I started to turn back and head toward the retreat center, but that didn’t make sense. This dog very likely belonged to someone staying on this campground, and that person could be playing hooky in her tent just like I was planning to do.

“Hello!” I called out.

The noise excited the puppy in my arms, who started wagging her tail and wiggling around. I managed to keep hold of her as I approached the tents to my left.

“Hello?” I said. “Is anybody here?”

The dog finally wiggled so much I had to set her down. She did part of the work for me, rushing from one tent to the next, poking her nose in where she could. Most of the flaps were closed, but she managed to stick her nose in a couple that had been left open. Then she finally went all the way into one. It was two tents down from mine.

I racked my brain but couldn’t remember which of my fellow direct salespeople was staying in that one. I also couldn’t remember anyone having a dog.

Maggie and I headed over to the other row of tents and had similar bad luck. Finally, it became clear her owner wasn’t out here.

“Come on, girl,” I said, tapping my hip.

I was prepared to scoop her up if she started running off, but that wasn’t necessary. She fell into step beside me, even going ahead of me on the path.

I was watching the dog closely to make sure she didn’t beeline for the pool when the back door to the retreat center burst open. Out strode a man who got both our attention in completely different ways.

Maggie rushed toward him, her little legs moving as fast as they could go. I, meanwhile, froze in my tracks, gaping at the sight in front of me.

The guy came to a stop too, and that was saying a lot, considering the way he’d barreled through that door. It slammed shut behind him, and still, he stood there, seemingly unaware of the dog at his feet, begging for attention.

The man was tall—incredibly tall. And big, with broad shoulders and muscular arms and legs. He wore a T-shirt and cargo shorts, and both looked out of place on him. I couldn’t say what I’d expected him to be wearing—maybe a plaid shirt and jeans like a lumberjack.

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