Page 11 of Marked By the Mountain Man
“Okay… wow.” She laughs under her breath as the seatbelt warning dings in her car. “That’s a very descriptive and thought-provoking story you’re telling. So… do you like him or something?”
“No! I hate him. He’s rude, completely out of touch with reality, a total skeptic, and totally emotionally unavailable.”
“You kissed him, though.” Her words come out like a statement of confusion, which I get given the circumstances.
“I kissed him because I was trying to prove something,” I snap, pacing the room, still angry with myself for coming here in the first place. I should’ve left this morning. I mean, we didn’t talk at all after the kiss. We just rode back in silence.
“Maybe he felt awkward. I mean, he lives alone up there. He probably doesn’t get much action. You said you were tryingto prove something, so what is it?” she asks with judgment in her tone. I don’t blame her. I’d be judging me too.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m trying to prove that I can still feel something. I mean, I’ve been so numb lately. Nothing excites me. It’s like I’m going through the motions.”
“So, did you feel something?” There’s gentleness in her voice now.
I stare out the bedroom window at the tree line, desperate for the answer to come riding out on the back of another grizzly.
Did I feel something?
My lips still buzz with the rough memory of his hands on my skin, of his touch. I didn’t expect him to kiss me back.I didn’t expect it to matter, but it did.
“Yeah, I did feel something, but why? He’s a total jerk. I must be sick in the head or something.”
“I don’t know,” she says, her voice rising and falling as though the truth is about to come spilling out. “You’re into all this spiritual stuff. Maybe you guys knew each other in a past life. Maybe your spirit already knows his. Maybe you see something in him that reminds you of a part of yourself you need to connect with.”
Her words hit me hard and heavy like a bell ringing somewhere deep in my chest.
“Did I lose ya?” Lana presses gently.
“No, sorry. Just in my head.” I hesitate, fingers tightening around the phone. “I probably just need a really big piece of cheesecake.”
She laughs softly. “I don’t think sugar’s going to cut through whatever this is.”
I smile, stomach tight, as I watch from the window as Knox treads across the yard with an axe in his hand. He’s aiming for a stump with logs half split near the woodshed.
The mid-morning light catches his jaw, emphasizing the sharp lines and quiet fury. He moves like he’s punishing the wood with each brutal swing. Almost like he’s trying to silence something that won’t stop talking in his head, though I could be projecting on that assessment.
Lana’s voice crackles through the speaker, “You’re watching him, aren’t you?”
I blink, torn between embarrassment and something deeper. “He’s chopping wood.”
She snorts. “Damn. Sounds like one of my books. Tell me everything. Is he carved like granite? Shirtless? Flannel? What’s the deal?”
“Oh my God! Stop! How are things at the bookstore coming along? You guys starting all the Christmas stuff yet? Gets earlier and earlier every year.”
“I don’t know. We’ve got some surprise guest coming in. Apparently, I’m in charge of the hoopla, so I guess I’ll be busy for the foreseeable future, which kind of sucks ‘cause I just got to the good part in the new Hunter Black book.”
“Oh yeah?” I grin, still watching the mountain man chop wood, his flannel unbuttoned, his biceps flexing with each chop. “I’m guessing‘the good part’is the smut?”
“Girl, Hunter Black doesn’t write smut. He writes erotic literature.”
“Oh,” I laugh sarcastically, “so sorry. The two confuse me sometimes.”
“Maybe that’s because you’re always so busy reading books about haunted houses and crystals.”
“You mean books filled with useful knowledge on the world around us?”
“Sure, if that’s what you want to call it.”
I glance out the window again. Knox is stacking the split logs now. It’s methodical and silent, like he’s building a wall between himself and the world.
