Page 2 of Shared By the Mountain Men

But it was early afternoon; I hadn’t eaten a real meal since breaking camp that morning. I needed to put something in my stomach before I took a pill. Digging deeper in my pack, I found a Clif Bar to munch on.

I was biting into that when the trees rustled behind me, and one of the biggest men I had ever seen in my life stepped onto the trail.

2

Melissa

Okay, so he wasn’t the biggest man I had ever seen. But he was over six feet tall, bearded, with broad shoulders and biceps that fuckingbulgedwhen he raised his ax. That probably should have been the first thing I mentioned: he was holding an ax. The kind that chop people up into pieces. And I was a small woman without any sort of protection.

Mom was right: I should have bought a gun.

The stranger’s intense eyes scanned the section of the path, taking in the scene in a few heartbeats. Then his gaze settled on me.

“I heard a scream,” he said in a deep, commanding voice.

“I’m fine!” I blurted out.

He blinked passively. “Then why did you scream?”

“I didn’t scream.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“Oh fuck off,” I blurted out before realizing I shouldn’t poke the ax-wielding bear. “Everything is fine.”

He rested his ax against his shoulder. “Is it your ankle?”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Your ankle is already the size of a softball, which is a bad sign if you only hurt it a few minutes ago.”

“How do you know when I hurt my ankle?”

“Because,” he said bluntly, “you screamed.”

“I didn’t scream!”

“Sure you didn’t.”

He never smiled. This wasn’t friendly banter. And I was stillextremelyaware that I was alone on the top of a mountain trail, and hadn’t seen any other humans for the past two days.

The strange man stared at me for a few more seconds. I stared right back, hoping that I projected confidence rather than panty-wetting fear.

“Tell you what,” he finally said. “I’ll fuck off if you can walk five feet. From here to that tree.”

“It sounds like you’re refusing to leave me alone,” I said slowly. “This is why women would rather come across a bear in the woods than a man.”

He shrugged casually. “Have it your way. But if that ankle is as bad as I suspect, you’re in trouble.”

His eyes bore into me, emphasizing the point. Then he started walking down the trail in the direction I was originally going, leaving me alone.

All alone.

“Wait!”

He stopped, but didn’t turn around.

“I rolled my ankle. Imighthave cried out in pain, but I didn’t scream.”

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