Page 6 of The Silent Mountain Man

He rubs his chin, like he's seriously thinking about it. Geez, I know I don't exactly give off welcoming committee vibes, but am I that much of an ogre that this guy is seriously weighing up whether or not I murder people? Or eat them?

Maybe I am.

I moved back to the mountains after my third tour. I needed to get away from people. To try to move on and live a simple life, to forget all the things I saw while serving.Like my best friend bleeding out in my arms…

"I'm Eddie."

The words jolt me out of my head.

"Nice to meet you,Eddie."

That name…

"Yeah. You too, Harrick."

"Come on. Let's go before we both catch a cold."

I turn and make my way back to my pickup. A few seconds later, I hear footsteps behind me. I get into my truck and watch as Eddie ambles over, taking his sweet-ass time. He's probably still unsure if this is the right thing to do, but he's safe with me. I won't hurt him.

I knew an Eddie once. He was my first love. But he left me without saying a word, disappeared in the middle of the night, and I never saw or heard from him ever again.

Another good reason to live up here. The only two men I've ever cared about aside from my brothers—my best friend and my first love—have both left me.

People only bring pain. Living alone is a much better option. Yeah, it's lonely, but it beats getting hurt.

Eddie reaches the passenger-side door. He takes a deep breath before opening it and climbing into the cabin.

I fumble around in the back seat to find a towel. "Here."

"Thanks."

He takes it from me and smiles, then starts drying off his hair.

He looks nothing like my Eddie.

This Eddie has got sandy-blond hair, blue eyes that sparkle like the ocean, and thanks to the white T-shirt that's gone translucent in the rain, I can see he's got a smooth, lean body. Not a piercing in sight.

Unlike my Eddie. He was pierced all over.

I wonder what brings this Eddie to these parts. He's most likely a tourist. Thickehead attracts plenty of those. It's a cute little town with cobblestone streets, filled with restaurants, a buttload of breweries, inns, shops, and good people…if you're into that sort of thing.

It's too much activity for me. I live on the other side of the mountain where it's totally secluded and only make my way into town every few weeks to stock up on supplies.

Eddie finishes drying off and hands the towel back to me. I run it down one arm at a time. He tracks the movement, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth. I'd say he was checking me out, but I bet he's probably still wondering if I go around murdering people for fun. I finish up and throw the towel into the back seat.

"Check the glove compartment," I tell him.

"Okay." He opens it then gasps. "What the fuck is that?"

"It's a gun."

"I know it's a fucking gun. I can see that. What are you going to do with that?"

"Nothing. It's for you. I want you to feel safe."

He slams the glove compartment shut, keeping his hands on it. "Okay. So here's the thing about me. I don't like guns. Or the mountains. I'm a city boy through and through. I mean, I used to come up here for the summers and spend them with my dad…"

I start the truck and head back to my place while Eddie regales me with the story of summers spent in the mountains with his father, which eventually morphs into the reason why he's here now.

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