Page 1 of Romancing the Mountain Man
Chapter 1
Quinn
“Why does your location show nothing but woods?” I laugh as Mariella’s voice, my best friend since we were five years old, comes across the speakers in my car and increases in volume with each word. “Like, seriously. Trees and more trees. Mountains? Girl! Where are you?”
“I needed a break. Jared and I broke up.”
Without missing a beat, she says, “Well, good. He was an asshole anyway.”
I bark a laugh and reply dryly, “Tell me what you really think of him.”
“Oh, I will. He couldn’t hold a job, had no social skills, and he was a two. Quinn, you’re a fucking ten, and you deserve better.”
I grin as I take the left onto the dirt road that begins to climb higher into the mountains. The Guadalupe Mountains National Park has the highest peak in Texas. I figured if I’m going to do this, I might as well go all in. The sky is gray as the sun forces its way through the clouds. The deeper into the forest I drive, though, the darker it gets.
“We can’t all have gorgeous husbands who are football scouts now, can we? You won the Super Bowl of men, and I keep striking out.”
“That's a baseball reference.”
“I know that!” I huff. “It’s just for one week. All I need is a little peace and quiet. Maybe I'll get my writing mojo back. Can’t write romance when you haven’t a clue what love looks like.”
I wish I had a love like Mariella and Dane. They fell in love over football games and a horse-drawn carriage ride. It wasn’t always sugar and spice, though; she hated Dane’s smug attitude at first. Turns out, he’s not smug at all. He’s just confident in what he knows and wants. And he wanted her and wouldn’t quit until she knew it.
“Okay, take a break, but don’t fall in love with a mountain man and never come back home to me.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Call…you get…when…home?”
“Mariella, you’re breaking up.”
Some static comes across my speakers. “Can you hear me?” There’s a buzzing noise, and then my phone disconnects. “Well, guess I’ll catch you on the flip side, bestie.”
I keep driving until I see a small log cabin with a welcome sign that readsPeak Performance. My lips roll in, and I vow to use that name in my next book. I pull up front and park my car, get out, and look around. The leaves are a gorgeous shade of oranges and yellows. And the smell! I inhale deeply. It's clean, unlike the city air that always smells of bus exhaust and garbage on the streets. But it’s too quiet, and all I can hear is the buzzing in my ears. Like when you're at a rock show all night long, and the next morning, everything is dull. I’m not used to this at all, but I have a feeling it will be really good for me.
I make my way inside and am greeted by an older woman behind the counter.
“Well, hello and welcome to Peak Performance. I’m Audrey. How can I help you?”
I smile at her. She reminds me of my grandma—gray hair, glasses with a chain, and a flower blouse. “I’m Quinn Murphy, and I’m checking in.”
“Oh, that's great. How was your ride up the mountain?” She begins flipping through a notebook with a pencil in hand. I’m definitely not in the city.
“It was fine. My car struggled a bit to get up the hill, but I made it.” I laugh nervously.
“That’s good. And just in time, too. We’re supposed to get a storm tonight.”
I crinkle my brows. “What kind of storm?”
“Just some rain and wind.” She waves her hand, dismissing the comment. She turns the notebook towards me and hands me the pencil. “Sign your name and leave your phone number. You’re in cabin twelve, the last in the row. I'll grab your key.” She disappears to the back, and I glance around as the wind lets out a howl. Before I can worry about it, she reappears, handing me the key. “Drive straight down the main road, and you’ll see the numbers out front. Enjoy your stay!”
I thank her and head out to my car, wondering if this was a good idea after all.
This was a great idea. Cabin twelve is perfect. I walked into a large living room with wood beams, wood floors, and wood paneling. Everything smells so fresh and like the forest. There is a galley way kitchen along the side. Opposite that, there are glass windows that overlook the mountains, where a small bistro table sits. I walk to the back which opens into the bedroom. Inside isa king-size bed, two small dressers, and an end table. It’s homey despite being minimal. There is a master bathroom which holds a claw tub and a small stand-up shower. I can already see myself soaking in this tub, a candle lit while I dream of my next story.
Though I've been freelancing as a writer for years, I’ve only just published my own works recently. I’d like to break into working for a publishing house. The city is the best chance for that, but the subjects I’ve been getting aren't exactly what I need to make it. After finding out my boyfriend was cheating on me, I booked this place. The time alone to regroup and hopefully come home to new work is promising.
I brought some snacks, and, of course, a few of my favorite bottles of wine, but the brochure said the fridge would be stocked with basics. I check it and see milk, eggs, and bread. There’s a wine bottle already chilling with a note tied around it that saysWelcome,though, and I think it'sperfect.I change into sweats and a tank, light a candle, and decide I’m going to pour a glass and sit with my laptop and see what happens. Maybe a storyline will pop up, or maybe a character will start speaking. I just need some creativity to flow to prove to myself I’m not a loveless person trying to live a romantic life.
