Page 4 of Rugged Mountain Man
“Are you running from someone?” I prompted.
“None of your business,” she muttered, sullen.
Fair enough. Couldn’t argue with that. I didn’t like people butting into my personal affairs either. That’s why I built this cabin. To get away, to disappear. I gestured at the fire poker in her hands.
“Are you going to take a swing at me or not?”
Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. She shifted in place, skittish as a wild animal. I fished a candy bar out of my rucksack and tossed it to her. She caught it with a hungry gleam in her gaze.
I studied her as she peeled back the wrapper and bit off a corner of the chocolate.
She was probably somewhere in her twenties, significantly younger than my forty-two years of life. Her cheeks were rosy, from the cold or the fire’s warmth, I couldn’t tell. Maybe both.
Hidden beneath all those layers she wore seemed to be a plump, pear-shaped figure. And those observant, solemn brown eyes of hers never stopped watching every move I made.
“Do you have a name?” I asked. “Or are you going to lie about that too?”
“I’m not here to make friends,” she said.
“Obviously.” I pointedly glanced down at her sneakers. “You’re not here for hiking in snowy mountain terrain either.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“I don’t think your wife would appreciate that you’re in this cabin alone with another woman.”
I winced at the mention of my wife. Moving slowly and deliberately across the cabin so I didn’t startle her, I set my rucksack on the counter and began unloading the contents—food, extra clothes, a first aid kit, toiletries. Everything I would need for a week of solitude.
“I don’t have a wife,” I replied. “She divorced me ten years ago.”
“Oh,” came the quiet reply.
I rubbed at my sternum, feeling the familiar hollow ache in my chest all over again. When I found out Jaida had been cheating on me, my world had gone careening off its axis, tilting wildly until everything was topsy-turvy. A decade later, I still couldn’t quite catch my breath.
I heard through the grapevine that Jaida was married now, with two kids, and a husband who brought home a six-figure salary. Meanwhile, I was…here. A hermit who had given up on being a proper, functioning member of society. I did odd jobs when I needed cash. Otherwise, I kept to myself.
I wasn’t entirely alone though. I had a brother and a handful of friends in town, but I didn’t stay in touch as often as I should.
“Look, KitKat, it’s late, I’m tired and hungry and I wasn’t planning on entertaining guests,” I said. “So I’ll make you a deal.”
“KitKat?”
I gestured to the candy bar in her hand.
“I need to call you something.”
The woman eyed me, skeptical, but she didn’t argue against it.
“What kind of deal did you have in mind?”
“Promise you won’t whack me on the head as soon as I turn my back,” I said. “And I’ll toast some bread and cheese over the fire.”
She faltered, torn between the offer of food and the urge to protect herself.
“No.”
“Why not?”
KitKat brandished the fire poker at me.
