Page 7 of Chiseled Mountain Man

I took off my work gloves and shoved them into my back pocket, then started up the trail with her. Snow had started coming down a couple of hours ago, but it hadn’t become unmanageable yet. It was starting to pick up, though. I’d definitely be driving her back to the lodge at some point. I just hoped the roads didn’t get so treacherous that my truck couldn’t make it.

But maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. She’d be snowed in with me. If she wanted that to happen as much as I did, I was all for it.

“This was my last chance to be a baker,” Bronte said.

Her words jerked me out of my thoughts. I looked over at her. She’d uncrossed her arms and was walking at a brisk pace, easily keeping up with my much longer strides.

“Why is that?” I asked.

“My parents want me to go to law school,” she said. “The prize money, plus help with starting a bakery, was going to get me out of that. My plan was to go home and tell them I’m moving to Seduction Summit to start my own bakery.”

That was good news. “You’re opening your bakery here?”

She sighed. “I was going to, but, well…obviously, I can’t even make finals in the competition. I’m sure whoever wins this sucker will start up a bakery here.”

“Or wherever she’s from,” I said. “Do all the people who are in the competition live nearby?”

Bronte shook her head. “They came from all over. One’s from Montana, two are from Texas. Of course, there are several from this region, but I figure since the competition is in this town, someone who couldn’t even make the finals won’t be wanted.”

That was ridiculous. “You don’t have to win a competition to start a business, last time I checked. You just need money, a business plan, and a whole hell of a lot of hustle.”

That was simplifying things. I didn’t mean to do that. I wanted to cheer her on.

“My entire family is made up of lawyers,” she said. “I got a four-year degree and was supposed to transfer to law school, but I worked at a bakery throughout college and fell in love with it. Everyone tells me it’s my calling. I’m really good at it. Even after what happened today, I’m confident of that.”

We walked in silence for another minute or so as I racked my brain for some words of wisdom. I’d never started my own business, but I had led missions during my time downrange, making split-second calls with limited intel and no room for error.

“Is there a bank here in town?” she asked, suddenly coming to a stop.

I skidded to a stop too and looked around. Of course, there wasn’t one out here in the middle of nowhere, but it was a delaying tactic while I thought through my answer.

“That would be in Adairsville,” I said. “The next town over. About a fifteen-minute drive down the mountain, past the sign. A few minutes later, you’ll start seeing businesses.”

I had no idea where the banks were in Adairsville. My banking was through a military credit union, and there wasn’t one located within a decent drive of this location, so I did everything online.

“If I could get a business loan lined up before I go home, that would make things easier,” she said.

Sure. Or she could stand up to her parents, tell them what she was going to do. But I didn’t know her family dynamics, so I kept my mouth shut. Besides, visiting a bank might require her to stay in town longer, and I was all for that. In fact, if I had my way, she’d stay in Seduction Summit for good.

5

BRONTE

I’d never had a sidecar before. I honestly thought brandy was nasty after tasting it in college. But now, sipping the drink Sean made for me while seated on his couch, I decided a sidecar just might be my new favorite drink.

“You sure I can’t help you with anything?” I called out.

Sean was making me dinner. He’d pulled some pork chops out of the freezer, thawed them, and was now frying them.

“Nope,” he said. “It’s ready.”

I widened my eyes in surprise, but I was even more surprised as I approached the table and saw four fried pork chops on a plate, a bowl of white gravy, and a separate bowl of mashed potatoes. My mouth watered at the sight.

“I was the only child of a single mom who worked all the time,” Sean said. “My grandma pretty much raised me. She was one of those old-school cooks. She even fried in shortening. Don’t worry, I use vegetable oil.”

“I wouldn’t know what food fried in shortening tastes like,” I said. “My mom was a health nut. Still is. We’d be lucky if we had chicken or turkey. Usually, it was some sort of vegetable or soy substitute.”

Sean stared at me with his usual neutral expression, but I’d swear I saw a hint of sympathy in his eyes. I’d take that sympathy.

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