Page 1 of Wishing for the Mountain Man

1

TESS

Every single one of my friends had betrayed me today.

I’d put on a brave face, determined to be a good sport about it all, but by the time dinner was over and they separated to go find their mountain men, I was fuming.

Nobody cared when I snuck away from the retreat center and headed to the gardens behind the property. Once I started walking, I couldn’t stop.

And that was how I ended up in ballet flats, dress pants, and a blouse, walking across the campground and toward a hiking trail that led no telling where.

Finally, I ran out of steam and plopped down on a rock near a downed tree. I stared at that tree, deciding it was a metaphor for my life right now. I had it together, so why did it feel like someone had knocked me down and left me there?

I was a practical person. I was in veterinary school and on track to fulfill my dream of someday working with animals. Maybe I’d even open my own clinic in a small town like this one.

So why had I let my friends talk me into this joke of a trip? We were chasing after some guy known as the CycloneStud. He’d gone viral online helping with tornado recovery while looking hot as hell.

I arrived in town to see not a single sign of that particular hottie. But throughout the day, I’d worked side by side with some of the most incredible people I’d ever met. Mountain men like the Cyclone Stud? Not so much. Mostly they were women who’d originally come here to meet him just as we had but found something more valuable along the way.

“Ahh!” I called out, liking the way my voice bounced off the trees. Feeling empowered, I closed my eyes, threw back my head, and shouted as loud as I could. “Ahh!”

I smiled to myself and pulled out my phone, checking for messages from my so-called friends. Not a single one. They were all off with their boy toys while I was in the middle of the forest in my dress flats. What was wrong with this picture?

“Hello? You okay?”

My eyes widened and I set my phone on my lap and looked around. I heard a male voice, but I didn’t see one. It sounded like it was coming from the fallen tree, which made no sense.

I stood and walked over to investigate. “Hello?” I called back. “Is someone in there?”

Silence. I felt silly. Luckily, no one was around to see me make a complete fool of myself. I’d just imagined I heard a guy’s voice…inside the branches of a fallen tree.

I shook my head and turned, ready to walk back down the mountain. Maybe I’d return to the retreat center and have another glass of wine. They called that a nightcap, didn’t they? I didn’t even drink. But it hadn’t been easy, watching my friends gush about their guys—none of whom were the Cyclone Stud, by the way. Yes, my friends had driven me to drink.

“Do you need help?” the male voice called out again.

This time, it sounded like it was coming from behind me. Not behind me in the direction of the fallen tree, but straightbehind me. My footsteps froze, and I turned, squinting to see something, anything, in the rapidly fading daylight.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Don’t come any closer. I’m armed.”

That was a lie. The closest thing I had to being armed was a bottle of pepper spray, but it was back at my apartment in Chattanooga. The same apartment I shared with my best friend, Ashton, who’d fallen for some mountain man named Mac.

I heard the crunch, crunch of feet on the dirt path and braced myself. I remembered that meme asking women if they’d rather run into a man or a bear in the woods. It seemed especially relevant right now. I was facing the possibility that I might be encountering a human as dangerous as a bear.

“You must be from the retreat center,” the male voice said.

A hulking form was coming into view up ahead. Not as big as a bear but bigger than any human I’d seen recently. He was extremely tall, whoever he was, and his arms were muscular.

And then he got closer, and my jaw dropped.

Holy hell, I’d just stumbled upon the Cyclone Stud. “You’re…”

I stopped myself. I’d started to let him know I knew who he was. His name was Jax. He lived in Rosewood Ridge. He was former military of some kind. That much we’d figured out from someone who claimed to know him in comments on the viral video.

But something told me not to admit I knew his identity. Not just yet.

“I live up here.”

He hitched his thumb backward and stopped a sizable distance from me. And there he stood, those muscular legs looking sexy in those cargo shorts.

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