Page 9 of Merciless Mountain Man

I stepped off the sidewalk and onto the grass that led to the ski lifts. They were both gondolas now, but at one time, they had been chairs. As teenagers, my friends and I had come up and ridden them in the late winter—right before the place shut down for the season—just for something fun to do.

“Not at all,” I said. “I tried when I was a kid. Turns out, I’m not all that coordinated. Plus, I don’t really like the cold.”

“Yeah, I’m more of a warm-weather person myself,” he said.

“Working outside, I could see that.”

He shook his head. “Actually, for work, chillier weather than this is best. The weather a couple of weeks ago was perfect.”

I tried to remember back a couple of weeks. It had been cold as heck, as far as I was concerned. I was still rushing from my car to buildings and back in my coat.

I pictured Dane hauling lumber and chopping down trees with a big ax and nearly tripped over my feet. Just the thought sent warmth through me, starting from my head and going all the way to my toes.

Dane didn’t head toward the chairlifts or the lift ticket building. Instead, he took a sharp left. I followed, wondering what would happen if I reached over and grabbed his hand.

Considering what we were planning to do, it was ridiculous to be shy over something like that. But I was. He definitely had to take the lead when it came to the physical stuff.

He came to a stop at the back of the building. Ahead of us was the upward climb that the lift took, carrying skiers to the top.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve stopped to appreciate this view,” I said. “Even when I’m in the restaurant, I don’t look out the windows.”

“Yeah, I see it every day,” he said. “It never gets old.”

The appreciation was clear in his voice. Standing there, he told me about all the work he and his crew had done, clearing away trees to build the chalets that now covered the area behind the lodge. I definitely remembered when all of this had been woods and nothing else. It gave me an all-new appreciation for the hard work Dane and the other guys did every day.

“Come on,” he said.

Before I could shift gears in my mind, he grabbed my hand and tugged me along. We were holding hands. I had to hold back a giddy smile at the realization.

I clutched the cup in my right hand as we walked toward the chalets. For a second, I was sure he was going to break into one of them. They were rentals, so they’d have furniture, but they’d no doubt be locked.

That wasn’t his destination, though. His destination was the wooded area just beyond it—the long strip of land still packed with trees because the logging crew hadn’t cleared that far over.

“You’re wearing heels,” he said, slowing his step and looking down at my feet.

I suddenly felt guilty for my footwear choice. But how could I possibly have known the day would lead me here?

“I can carry you,” he said.

As much as I liked the idea of this muscular guy holding me close to his chest, I shook my head. “I’m pretty good at walking in heels. Luckily, it hasn’t rained recently, so the ground isn’t soft.”

“Yeah, that would suck. Sinking into mud with every step.” He shook his head. “But if this is too much, we could go?—”

“No way,” I said. “We’re doing this.”

Let’s do this. Those were the words he’d said. No backing out now. No getting in his car and going back to his place. No, this was happening here. Tonight. Somewhere on this property.

He released my hand to lead me through the trees, and I immediately saw what he had in mind—the creek. But he didn’t stop there. Instead, he continued up the stream, leaving me to wonder where he could possibly be taking me.

Finally, he stopped and gestured to a rock. “Have a seat.”

I was more than happy to. I’d prefer a big cushy chair right now, but my feet were tired from walking around in these torture devices all day. In fact, as soon as I plopped down on the rock, I kicked my shoes off and had to resist the urge to massage my feet.

Instead, I took a big sip of my drink and savored the tangy flavors as they crossed my taste buds. The bartender might be a tool, but he could make a damn good margarita.

“Look up,” Dane said.

I lifted my head and realized I’d missed everything right in front of me. Then he moved off to the side, giving me a front seat to the most breathtaking view of the ski slope I’d ever seen. Even though we were at the bottom of the slope, the wires for the ski lift made it tough to really focus on the mountain itself. But not here. Here, a big clearing in the trees revealed green as far as the eye could see.

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