Page 2 of Her Mountain Man Neighbor
I never used to be a big walker, but I try to get out when I can to give the lovebirds some alone time. Judging by the way they’re looking at each other right now, this is a good time to make myself scarce.
“Okay.” Mila tears her gaze from Holden’s to look at me. “Make sure you’re warm enough. It’s chilly out there.”
“And watch out for the river,” Holden adds. “It’s flowing fast today.”
“And don’t go too far,” Mila says.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” I smile at them. It’s nice to know they care. “I’ll be back in about an hour.”
They wave me off as I pull on my boots and stride out into the crisp October air. I look back over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of Holden and Mila through the living room window. They’re already kissing like their lives depend on it, and I shake my head, smiling as I turn away. Love isn’t exactly my area of expertise, but I never knew it could make people so crazy.
I leave Holden’s cabin behind me, striding through the golden woods. Something smoky and warm hangs in the air, the smell of fall, and my feet crunch against the fiery leaves as I follow the sound of Sugar Creek. Holden was right about the flow; I can already hear the water crashing through the trees from here.
After a few minutes of walking, I reach the river. It splits the earth like a scar, the water frothy and churning. I’ve walked thisway several times before, always leaping across the river to reach the other side of the bank. There’s a path over there leading to a gorgeous vista of the surrounding mountains. But today, I feel a knot of apprehension in my gut. The riverbank is wetter than usual, my feet sinking into the mud. The water is rushing so fiercely that the sound almost hurts my ears as I seek out the narrowest part of the river.
Screw it, I think to myself.I can make it.
It’s an easy jump. I’ve never missed it before. Steeling myself, I bend my knees, preparing to leap across the river. But as I shift my weight, my boots slip against the muddy bank. The world lurches as my legs slide out from beneath me, my heart lurching with them.
Crap!
I land in the mud with a squelch, my back slamming against the ground. The air is sucked from my lungs, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. I begin to slip down the riverbank, my feet almost touching the bubbling water below. With a flash of panic, I reach behind me, clawing uselessly at the mud as gravity draws me down. There’s nothing to grip, nothing I can use to pull myself up.
“Help!”
Suddenly, someone grabs me. Two powerful arms wrap around my torso, dragging me back up the steep riverbank and onto flat ground. I catch a fleeting glimpse of a bearded face hovering above mine before I’m suddenly pulled to my feet. I wobble, my legs still shaking, but a pair of strong hands grip my shoulders firmly from behind, steadying me. My back throbs, a deep ache forming between my shoulder blades.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
The deep voice sends a jolt of surprise through me, and I whip around to face my rescuer.
Oh God.
A giant of a man is scowling down at me. He looks like he’s been carved out of the mountain itself—all hard lines and rough edges. A flannel shirt clings to his broad chest, the green fabric barely visible beneath a thick layer of mud. His sleeves are rolled up to reveal his muscular arms, which he crosses as he surveys me. Those gray eyes, dark and stormy, pin me to the spot, his mouth down-turned beneath his thick beard.
He’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen…
And right now, he looks seriously pissed off.
2
LUCIAN
I scorea line in the tree trunk with the blade of my axe, so I know where to aim. The old pine is too diseased to save, but it will provide plenty of firewood once it’s been felled and cut. I swing my axe back over my shoulder, slamming it against the gnarled bark until the withered tree topples to the ground with a half-hearted creak. Once it’s down, I strip it bare and start to chop.
A cool breeze whistles through the trees as I work, but I barely feel the cold. That’s what growing up in Alaska will do to you. Fall on Cherry Mountain seems tame by comparison—but it’s not an easy time of year for me. Nothing to do with the weather. Fall always reminds me of my brother. Dominic. He’s on my mind as soon as the leaves begin to turn, the memories weighing heavier than ever.
I push away the thought, concentrating on dragging the wood back to my cabin. Midnight is waiting by the door, purring when I step inside, and I bend down to run a hand over her sleek black fur. My cat is the only company I have out here, and that’s just how I like it. Dominic was always the social one. He’d drag me out to parties when we were younger, trying to bring me outof my shell. But he’s gone now, and I’ve been a recluse ever since, retreating to the quiet of the forest.
After refilling Midnight’s bowl with kibble, I walk outside to the woodshed, storing the chopped-up pine tree inside. Then I head for the river. There’s been a lot of heavy rain lately, and Sugar Creek is in full flow, crashing through the woods like a storm. The roar of water fills my ears, stirring up memories I have to force back as I search along the bank for another tree to fell, finally setting my sights on a thick fir. I angle my axe toward the trunk and score a line, but as I swing my arm back, something catches my eye. Movement in the trees nearby. A figure drifting toward me.
Dammit.
I feel a flicker of annoyance. I never see people up here—it’s too remote. Hikers usually stick to other parts of the mountain, following the well-maintained trails and signposts. But up here, there’s nothing but wilderness. I set my axe down. It’s too dangerous to chop trees when there are people around, especially dumb tourists who have managed to wander this far from the hiking trails.
I watch the figure impatiently, catching brief glimpses of them between the tree trunks. Finally, a young woman emerges into the clearing. She doesn’t see me. Her eyes are fixed on the river…and my eyes are fixed on her.
Holy shit.
