Page 3 of Glacial Mountain Man
"Charlotte." I stirred the chili as it warmed, hyperaware of her presence behind me. "I run a trucking operation down there. Multi-state routes, mostly freight."
"Charlotte's a couple of hours from here."
I glanced over my shoulder and found her watching me with those blue eyes that seemed to see too much. "I'm helping a friend set up his Christmas tree lot. Thanksgiving weekend is huge for sales, and this storm is going to cost us."
The words came out sharper than I intended. I’d been stressing about the snow for the past few hours. It had popped up fairly suddenly in the forecast, and that hadn’t given my business partner, Luca, and me any time to prepare.
She stepped into the kitchen, close enough now that I could feel the heat radiating from her body. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to?—”
"Not your fault." I turned back to the stove, but I was intensely aware of every move she made. "Mother Nature doesn't check business schedules."
"Your friend must really need you for you to travel all this way this time of year.”
"Luca's good people. We go back a few years." I ladled the chili into two bowls and set the cheese and crackers on the table. When I turned to hand her a bowl, our fingers brushed. The contact was electric, and she jerked her hand back like she'd been burned.
"What about you?” I asked. “What do you do when you're not getting lost in blizzards?"
"I manage a bookstore. Nothing as exciting as trucking." She set her empty mug on the counter, her movements careful, deliberate. "It's right on the beach, so we get a lot of tourists in the summer."
"Books, huh?" I asked. "Romance novels and beach reads?"
A smile tugged at her lips, and I found myself staring at her mouth. "Among other things."
We sat at my small kitchen table, and she dove into the food like she hadn't eaten in days. Which, based on what she'd told me, wasn't far from the truth. She built herself a cracker with cheese and took a bite, closing her eyes as she chewed. A soft sound of pleasure escaped her, and I had to shift in my chair.
"This is incredible," she said between bites. "Thank you."
I shrugged. "Just chili."
She took another spoonful, then built herself another cracker, this time loading it with more cheese. "What's your secret? There's something I can't identify."
"Cumin. And a bottle of beer."
"Beer in chili?" She looked skeptical.
"Trust me." I watched her take careful bites, like she was trying to solve a puzzle with her taste buds. "My Navy buddy taught me that trick."
“Navy?” Her spoon paused halfway to her mouth. "How long were you in?"
"Eight years. Got out about five years ago." I finished my bowl and got up to ladle myself more. "Want seconds?"
She nodded, pushing her bowl toward me. "What made you leave?"
I hesitated, not used to sharing personal details. But something about the way she asked—genuine curiosity without pushiness—made me answer.
"Ready to be my own boss,” I said. “Build something that was mine."
"Hence the trucking company."
"Started with one truck and a prayer." I set her refilled bowl in front of her, our fingers brushing again. This time, neither of us pulled away immediately. "Now I've got twelve trucks and routes in four states."
"That's incredible." She took another bite, considering. "Do you miss military life?”
"Parts of it. The brotherhood. Having a clear mission." I found myself studying her face as she ate. The way she savored each bite, like she was making the most of it. "What about you? Always wanted to run a bookstore?"
She laughed, building another elaborate cracker. "God, no. I was going to be a teacher like my parents. English literature. But after college, I took a summer job at this little bookstore, and…” She shrugged. "I fell in love with it. The owner was retiring, so when she offered to sell it to me, I couldn't say no."
"Big risk."
