Page 25 of Mountain Challenge

Roland and Isla. Ex-husband. Ex-wife.

Sadness struck her. The last time she’d seen their names together like this had been on their marriage certificate. And now it was over. She wasn’t married anymore. She forced another deep breath and reminded her she’d needed this. She could have forgiven Roland many things, but cheating wasn’t one of them. He’d broken her trust, and there was no way back from that.

Isla sighed. One way or the other, it was good news. She found a blue pen in her bag and signed the papers herself, placing them back in the envelope her lawyer had provided for that purpose. She’d mail it out tomorrow.

So. She was divorced. Surely this called for a celebration. Instead of the yogurt she’d been planning on having for dinner, Isla picked out a bottle of Austrian Merlot she’d been saving for a special occasion. It seemed like this qualified.

Before she could second-guess herself, she poured herself a generous glass and took a sip. It needed to breathe. But she didn’t feel like waiting, so she took a sip. Then another. A couple glasses of this, some cheese and crackers, and then she was going straight to bed to take care of her newly rediscovered engine.

11

Ry

Ry was nervous.Fucking nervous. And he wasnevernervous when it came to meeting women.

Except this wasn’t any woman. This was Isla—the woman who’d rocked his world the night before. He wanted—no, he needed—to see her again. To see if her voice was as velvety as he remembered, her skin as soft, her hair as?—

You’re a moron. She’s going to kick your ass to the curb. If she’s even home.

It was closing in on eight p.m. Her store was closed. And she didn’t have her car yet. He knew that for a fact, because that was his excuse. He’d picked up her car from the shop after getting discharged from the hospital, driving slower than his grandma, because Beau would rip him a new one if he knew he’d been driving with only one arm.

Ry ran his left hand through his dirty blond hair. His right arm was still in a sling. He would not be doing anything much with that arm for a few days.

Apparently, he’d been lucky to walk away with only a mild rotator cuff strain. Every doctor who’d come in to see him, and there’d been a few, had expressed surprise at the fact that his tendon hadn’t ruptured. But shit, his shoulder was killing him. He should be on his way home to sleep. And instead, he was out here in the cold, hanging outside Isla’s tattoo studio, trying to muster the courage to go up the stairs and knock on her door.

Come on. Just knock. The worst thing that can happen, she doesn’t invite you in. You leave her the car keys and head home.

To be fair, that sounded pretty bad. But he’d man up and take it if it meant seeing her again, even for just a few seconds. He walked up the wooden stairs, trying to keep the thumping of his boots to a minimum. If she was sleeping, he was going to feel like the biggest fool.

Knock. Knock. Before he could change his mind. He wasn’t going to give himself the chance to back away.

He heard her soft footsteps on the other side of the door. His heart rate increased, and he felt dizzy. Maybe he should have stopped for some dinner before coming. He had the sudden urge to run but forced himself to stand his ground. He expected her to open the door a sliver, but she opened the door fully.

“Ry?” Her expression went from surprised to concerned in an instant. Either she’d noticed the sling, or else he looked as bad as he felt. “Are you okay?” Her eyes were the softest brown caramel.

As she moved aside to let him in, Ry’s breath just about left his body. She was wearing a black tank top that enveloped her high, pert breasts. If he concentrated—and he he knew he shouldn’t—he could just about make out the little bar piercing her nipples. He dragged his eyes back up to her face, but not before noticing how her nipples puckered under his attention.

A small smile crossed her lips. “I guess you’re not at death’s door quite yet,” she said.

“Sorry. You’re just …”

“Come in. What happened?”

It was warm inside her apartment, and tonight he was glad for that. He’d spent most of the day dressed in nothing but a hospital gown. He felt his shoulders sag, releasing the tension that he’d been holding on to all day.

“Just a hard day,” he said, aiming for stoic and knowing he was missing it by a mile.

“Were the hikers okay?”

He wasn’t sure she’d remember much of what he’d told her at four a.m., but apparently she’d been more awake than he’d given her credit for.

Ry ran his hand through his hair and let out a careful breath. “We got them out. They’re going to be okay,” Ry said. He was still unsettled by the raw fury in the man’s eyes as he’d accused Ry of trying to kill him.

“That’s good news,” Isla said carefully. “But you don’t look so good.”

“I came to give you back your car.”

Her expression lit up. “My car? How did you get it so quickly? I’d expected it to take all week! And how much do I?—“

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