Page 8 of Running to the Mountain Man

Character, Goldie. He’s just a character on TV.

Still, if he were to crawl out of the TV and into my bed, I wouldn’t kick him out. I’d be the littlest spoon that ever was.

A thrill runs over my skin at the thought.

Sheesh. I really need to meet some actual humans, because I guarantee not one of them out there is as attractive as this guy.

I must be shivering because I’ve been in the bath too long. I add warm water so the temperature stays just right until I finish watching this episode.

I’m not eager to get out of the tub at all, but my stomach is starting to rumble.

Grabbing one of the fluffy towels off the rack on the wall, I get a shock when I realize it’s warm.

My first instinct is to assume the house is on fire, so I touch the wall, preparing to be alarmed at the temperature. Nothing is amiss. Then I see the switch on the wall and realize something. This is a towel warmer.

What in the world? Whoever owns this place must be dripping with money.

Too bad I’ll never meet them because I feel as though I’ve walked into another dimension entirely, and I’d love to ask a million questions about what life on their planet is like.

I am about to die of happiness when I wrap my wet body in a warm bath towel and try out some of the lotions from the cabinet.

Smelling like apricots, lavender, and pine, I pad into the kitchen and begin snooping through the cabinets.

For some reason, I’m craving oatmeal, so I grab a copper pot from the rack above the gas range and get to work. Fifteen minutes later, I have the best bowl of oatmeal I’ve ever had, complete with cinnamon and honey.

My tummy full and happy, I peek around in the bedroom closet for something to put on before I get some rest. I find a big, oversized flannel that hangs down to my knees. Okay, so maybe this place isn’t a vacation rental but a place that some owner keeps stocked as his own private vacation home.

I smile as I smooth my hand down the front of the soft flannel, thinking that this shirt belongs to someone about the shape and size of that action star on TV.

My insides tumble when I think about it. But I’m just being silly. What I need right now is a few quick hours of sleep before I set off again.

I have to keep going because I’m the only person who has figured out where The Prophet is hiding.

I’ve scoured every rental cabin in the area online. And judging by the videos that Prophet Orlyn sends to his flock, I found the one. The curtains and the background match one that’s on this same logging road but set back on a dense trail only accessible by foot.

I’m going to find my brother and together, we’ll find The Prophet. And then, we’ll bring him to justice.

Then again, if this place is as deserted as it seems, maybe I’ll stay until the next renters come and then make a break for it.

That sounds like a much better plan, I think, as I sink under the duvet with a smile on my face.

Chapter Four

Barrett

I wait at the trailhead all damn evening.

You’d think any law enforcement would be in a hurry for a murder investigation.

Nothing could be further from the truth when one solitary deputy’s vehicle finally pulls up.

“You’re the one who reported a gunshot wound?”

It’s the same guy as before, who came up to my cabin to tell me he couldn’t do anything about the thief.

“I sure am. Are you the only one coming?”

“Well, if someone’s already dead, I don’t think I need backup, do I? Unless you’re the shooter, haha!”

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