Page 1 of Trick or Treat with the Mountain Man
Chapter 1
Tyler
When I moved to Red Oak Mountain, I thought I was buying trees, trees, and more trees.
That and a quiet, secluded life in the woods where no one would bother me.
The real estate agent hadn’t mentioned the house out of sight and just over the hill, where they had frequent, loud parties.
I never would have bought this rickety cabin on a remote plot of land at the tippy-top of the mountain if I’d realized there were neighbors so close.
Tonight’s party was louder than usual.
My shoulders reflexively tightened as another volley of fireworks shot off into the sky.
Who the fuck sets off fireworks for Halloween, anyway?
I rolled my shoulders, trying to relax them.
This was going to be a bad night. I knew it already.
Which is why I headed to the kitchen to get a refill for my whiskey tumbler.
It wasn’t common for me to drink these days. But when I got like this, it was the only thing that took the edge off.
I gritted my jaw as another volley of fireworks exploded nearby. There was a light sheen of sweat on my brow and an almost imperceptible tremble in my hands. I tried to ignore my racing heart, while every cell in my body screamed that I needed to get away.
Against my will, I was transported back to the night everything changed in my life. Enemy fire directed right at us. The helicopter crashing down. The aftermath of that experience. Everything I’ddone. Everything I’dseen.
My throat tightened as I started to descend straight into the familiar rhythm of a PTSD panic attack.
But then I heard a different sound. Tread on gravel.
Someone was coming…here.
And that was a problem, because Ineverhad company. And I preferred it that way.
I turned off all the lights in the house, grabbed my shotgun, and looked out the peephole. A small sedan had pulled into the driveway.
In the dark, I couldn’t make out the color, but it looked shiny, like it was silver or gold or one of the hundred permutations of those two colors that car manufacturers liked to come up with.
As I watched, a shadowed figure emerged from the car and started walking with determination straight to my front door.
What are they holding?
I tightened my grip on the gun.
Then I saw the outline of rounded hips and realized it was a woman.
Sometimes it was hard to trust again. The military can do that to you.
But why would I trust a person—no, scratch that—awomanwho was walking up my porch steps after dark holding a suspicious package late on Halloween night?
My panic attack started to fade as I took her in, distracted by the curvy diva who didn’t appear to have much clothing on.
What the hell is she wearing?
The cat ears were obvious, even in the dark. But was that… a leotard?
