Page 2 of Savage Mountain Man

Slowly, the corners of his mouth lifted on either side. It was barely perceptible, but I saw it. I had a feeling this was a guy who didn’t normally smile.

“Take a picture,” I shouted, repeating a line I’d heard many times in childhood. “It’ll last longer.”

I didn’t know if he could hear me through this plexiglass or not, but it wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d pulled out his phone and done exactly what I commanded. He was getting so close now, though, he’d be past me by the time he could open his camera and hold the phone in front of him to snap the picture.

This was exciting, thrilling. I felt alive for the first time in my life. Who knew that getting naked in front of a gorgeous stranger was all I needed to pull myself out of the slump I’d been in lately?

In five seconds, he’d be passing me, and then I could get dressed and go back and tell my friends about what had happened. It would be an interesting text to add to the video I’d be sending.

But as I counted down—five, four, three—the gondola began making a strange sound. It trembled, then shuddered, and myarms reflexively covered my chest. This thing was going to fall off the cable. I would topple to my death wearing absolutely nothing. Could there be anything more humiliating?

As if in answer to that question, the gondola came to an abrupt stop catty-corner to the hot guy, whose chair had also stopped. He was staring directly at me—or at least I assumed he was. The sunglasses still concealed his eyes.

Yes, this was definitely more mortifying than if I’d fallen to my death naked. This was by farthemost embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me. And it was far from over.

2

BRANDON

Anaked woman was on the gondola in front of me, just a few feet from where I sat. She was curvy. I could only see her from the knees up, but that was everything I needed to see.

Large, full breasts with light pink nipples. Hips that would be perfect for grabbing onto and thighs she had clamped together, probably in some bizarre attempt at modesty.

“You okay?” I yelled out.

She could hear me. I knew that because just milliseconds before the entire operation ground to a halt, she’d yelled at me to take a picture. The statement had confused me at first, since she’d said it without a hint of annoyance, but then she added the words, “It’ll last longer.” That was something I’d heard as a kid, although I couldn’t remember where—maybe on a TV show or in a movie?

My question seemed to push her into action, and I cursed myself for it. Why’d I have to go and speak? She disappeared, and I assumed it was to hunker down and hide her body.

I reached into my pocket and retrieved my cell phone. Whether I’d get reception up here was anyone’s guess, but I had to do something. And that somethingwasn’ttaking a picture.

I only took my eyes off the gondola long enough to dial the front desk. I returned to my hometown last summer with plans to buy the ski lodge and turn it into a profit-making machine. But the owner, a classmate and former coworker, talked me into letting him keep it and expand.

While I was here, I fell back in love with the town that had been too small for me as a child. Now, I owned a cabin about three miles up the main road while I oversaw construction on what would become the town’s first shopping destination.

“Seduction Summit Lodge,” the friendly voice of Georgia, the desk clerk, blasted through my phone.

“Hey Georgia, this is Brandon. It appears the lift is stuck again.”

This happened at least a couple of times a week, which was why I wasn’t panicking. I’d never been stuck on it before, but I knew they just needed the guy at the bottom to press a button to start it back up again.

“Oh no,” Georgia said. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Fine. I’m on the chair, and there’s someone in the gondola. A woman.”

I was staring at her right now. She’d risen back to her feet and now wore a bright pink ski jacket and matching ski pants. She was pulling her hair into a ponytail for some reason. Maybe she planned to actually ski once this thing got unstuck and she needed her hair out of her face.

“Is her name Kacie?” Georgia asked.

“Who?”

I’d veered from the conversation a little because my full attention was on the woman in front of me. Her arms were nowcrossed over her chest and her head was tilted with a questioning expression.

“The person in the gondola,” she said.

“I don’t know her name. Hold on. Are you Kacie?”

She pointed at herself with her thumb, as if to ask if I was referring to her, then nodded. I assumed that meant, yes, she was Kacie.

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