Page 15 of Brooding Mountain Man

“Did he leave town or just the lodge?” Skye asked.

“That’s the question of the hour. I was going to use my lunch break to search for him. How hard can it be to find a flatbed truck pulling a logging trailer up in these mountains?”

Skye shook her head. “Not easy. Look for lots of trees.”

I nodded. “Thanks. Wish me luck.”

“Wait!” Skye’s shout stopped me as I rounded the desk and started toward the door. “Alex did mention something about a patch of mountain all the way toward the top. The point of view lookout?”

I nodded. “That may be where he went.”

“I heard him talking about it the other day.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

But I didn’t have much hope as I climbed into my sedan and started the engine. Alex could suggest all he wanted, but if there was one thing I’d learned about Lucky, it was that he did things his own way.

8

LUCKY

Being alone in the mountains had always been like a balm to a wound when it came to my heart. Just a few hours of fresh mountain air and I forgot all my troubles.

Not this time, though. This time, the emptiness seemed to only get deeper with every second I spent away from Georgia.

I’d have to go back to the lodge eventually, even if I wasn’t staying there. I’d need to report in to Alex. But for today, I’d do my job, then head to town and try to find a place to stay in one of the two hotels near the square.

I was sitting on a rock, eating the peanut butter and jelly sandwich that had been in my truck since yesterday, when I heard a vehicle approaching. This lookout was well off the main road, although signs pointed to it. Point of View, it was called.

Frowning, I tossed my half-eaten sandwich on top of the paper bag next to me and stood. I had half a mind to snatch up my belongings, hop in my truck, and get the hell out of here. I’d move on to the next location, maybe eat my sandwich there.

But something stopped me. I didn’t want to be like that anymore. I wanted to join the land of the living. And damn it, I wanted Georgia in my life. Every day for the rest of my life.

Yes, she’d gotten up in the middle of the night and left, but maybe I’d overreacted. I’d rushed to pack up and check out before she showed up for work, afraid that if I saw her, the rejection might kill me. Rejection was what I was sure would happen because people always left. Getting close to people meant they could leave me. Theywouldleave me. They always did.

But my one night with Georgia had taught me something important. Shutting myself off from everyone out of fear of being hurt was no way to live. Was it worth the risk to open my heart up to someone like Georgia? Absolutely. And that was exactly what I’d do.

I shoved the sandwich back in my bag, grabbed my thermos full of coffee that I’d gotten at the diner, and stood. I was hopping in that truck, all right, but not to go to the next location. No, I’d head straight for the lodge. I had a woman to win back.

I was already in the truck, engine humming, ready to push the gas pedal, when I saw the small black sedan that had joined me up here. It was a small dirt lot meant for parking and to enjoy the view. I had a feeling this was a makeout spot for teens, though.

Something about that black sedan stopped me. There was nothing all that unusual about it, but my heart skipped a beat anyway. Then I got a look through the front windshield. The driver was a blonde with a ponytail.

There was one blonde with a ponytail I knew, and her image was imprinted on my brain. On my heart.

“Georgia.”

I said her name out loud, loving the way it sounded crossing my lips. Yes, I was definitely well on my way to falling in love with this woman.

Frowning, I cut the engine and stepped out, walking with determined strides toward her car. She’d come to a stop just infront of my truck, our headlights bouncing off each other’s. I didn’t want her to get out of the car, though. I didn’t mind the thirty-degree temperatures. They actually invigorated me. But I’d want my lady to stay warm.

My lady. I just hoped she was on board for making me her man.

Georgia didn’t make a move to get out of her car, so I pulled open the passenger door and peeked in. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I had to come find you,” she said. “Get in.”

She didn’t sound happy. I saw that as a good sign. I climbed in and spent a few beautiful seconds enjoying the warmth inside her small car. Maybe sitting out in the cold had been a way of punishing myself for getting too involved too fast. Right now, it seemed crazy that I’d sat out in the cold when I could have blasted the heater and enjoyed my sandwich in my truck.

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