Stranded with the Mountain Man Read online

  Howie cleared his throat. “Actually, more like a few days, maybe a week.”

  Ray stared at him. “A week?”

  Howie shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the building fury in Ray’s voice. Good. Let the man sweat. A week was completely unacceptable.

  “No one knows exactly where the crash site is, but their best guess is two or three days hike from here. And they probably won’t find it right off, so they’ll circle around searching for it.”

  Rage tumbled through Ray. He clenched his fist and breathed deep, pushing past the fury so he could think again. But it obliterated all rational thought.

  “Can’t we hire someone to go for us?” he asked.

  “Uh, Boss? You want to send someone up alone to retrieve that much money?”

  That returned Ray’s calm. No. No, of course he didn’t. If he paid some backwater guide to go up the mountain, he’d never see the man—or his money—ever again. No way someone could resist that cash, particularly not someone poor enough to live in a town like this.

  “Fine,” he spat. “We’ll go. You better find me the best guide there is, though. If we get lost on that mountain I will kill you myself.”

  Howie swallowed and nodded, but showed no other reaction to his threat. Clearly, the man had become immune. Later, when they were back to civilization, he would have to prove he meant his threats. But for now, he needed the man. It wasn’t like he’d talk to these locals himself.

  The waitress came over, a plate with a burger in each hand.

  “Here you gents go,” she said with a friendly smile. “Anything else you need?”

  Howie smiled at her. “Actually, we need a guide to take us up the mountain.”

  She laughed lightly. “This time of year you won’t find many foolish enough to take you. Weather might turn any day.”

  Howie glanced at Ray, who made a face telling him to press.

  “There must be someone,” Howie said, charming her with a smile.

  She scrunched up her face. Pretty cute for a mountain girl. Freckles. Curly dark hair. And she appeared clean and put together. If he wasn’t in such a hurry, he’d take her to bed. But his priority had to be that money. He’d work his frustrations out on his wife when he finally caught up to her, instead. She deserved it for disobeying him.

  “What’s up the mountain? It’s not hiking season. The snow is pretty, but it’s dangerous for amateurs.” She gave them a once-over that made Ray bristle. But what could he say? He’d live his whole life in a hot city by the sea. He’d never climbed a goddamn mountain before. And he’d hoped he’d never have to. This was all fucking Gia’s fault.

  “My wife’s up there,” he growled. Unfortunately, some of his anger at Gia leaked out. The waitress’ eyes went wide with alarm as she stepped back. Even the guy at the table across the room shifted as if he’d been listening in. Gossipy fucking town.

  Howie put a placating hand on Ray’s arm. His anger sharpened at the patronizing gesture, but Ray understood the message. He clamped his jaw shut.

  “Did you hear about the plane crash?” Howie asked.

  “Oh, yes, I think the radio mentioned something about that. So sad.”

  “The passenger, Gia Angelo, is Ray’s wife.”

  Her eyes went wide, this time in shock, not alarm. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you,” Ray mumbled, and then let Howie do the talking.

  “We’re hoping she’s still alive,” Howie continued. Ray held back a snort. He’d love nothing more than to find Gia dead in a twisted wreckage. But that wouldn’t help his case with the waitress.

  “Of course,” she said. “But it’s so dangerous up there this time of year. Don’t you think it’s best to let the professionals find and rescue her?”

  Ray leaned forward. “I can’t sit here while my wife might still be out there. Cold, alone, scared. I need to find her.” He was laying it on thick, but the woman ate it right up.

  “Of course. I completely understand.” She hesitated. “I might be able to recommend someone, but they don’t come cheap. Particularly not at this time of year, and with two, um, inexperienced climbers.”

  “I have money,” Ray bit off. “As long as they can get me up and down that mountain alive.”

  She nodded, then turned towards the man at the other table. He didn’t move from where he sat, leaning against the wall. He’d been expecting her attention.

  “What do you say, Aaron? You up for a hike?”

  Aaron’s gaze went from her, to Ray. “Your wife, you say?”

  “Right. I want…I need her to come home.” Sincerity leaked through, since that much was the truth. This Aaron guy didn’t need to know the real reason Ray was determined to bring Gia back.

  “You ever hiked before?”

  “No,” Ray admitted.

  “I have,” Howie said. Ray glanced at him in surprise. He never would have guessed.

  “When?” he asked, before he could think better of it.

  Howie turned to him. “I grew up near one. Used to go all the time with my Ma and Pa.”

  Huh. Had Ray known that? Probably. But he found he didn’t care enough to remember so he turned back to Aaron.

  “Will you take us?”

  “How much do you love your wife?”

  It was an odd question. Too personal. And Aaron’s piercing gaze made Ray want to squirm. But he held still and blew out a breath. “Enough to climb up a damn mountain for her,” he said, since he knew that was the kind of answer this man wanted to hear.

  Aaron eyed him. “How much?”

  “Two thousand dollars,” Ray said. It was a risk. He didn’t have money to burn like he once had. Not since Gia had stolen half his fortune of ready cash. Bitch.

  Aaron narrowed his eyes. “Five thousand. More if you need to rent my gear.”

  Ray was about to tell this backward hick where he could stick his five thousand dollars, when Howie squeezed his arm in warning.

  “Fine,” Howie said. “If we leave today.”

  Chapter 6

  They ate the soup again for lunch. She was curled up on the bed—his bed—with his socks on her feet, and his sweater wrapped around her. A bone-deep satisfaction he’d never experienced before settled over him. Something about caring for this woman, providing for her, felt so right.

  When Gia asked for more salt, Elijah reluctantly handed her a pinch from his stash.

  “Is it worth its weight in gold?” she teased at the tiny amount.

  He grunted. “I cure a lot of meat in winter with it. If the weather gets bad and I can’t get to town for a few months, I need some handy. Can’t hunt in bad weather, either.”

  Her face fell. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to waste it.” She stared sadly at the soup.

  “It’s okay,” he reassured her, not liking to see her unhappy.

  “It’s so different out here,” she murmured. “Tell me about how you live out here. What’s your day like?”

  “I don’t know. I get up, do my chores, sleep.”

  She laughed, and the sound sunk into him, warming him from the inside out better than soup ever could. It also affected him lower, but he shifted to ignore the tightening in his groin.

  She continued with her questions. “Okay, but more specifically. Like, you said the water came from a nearby river. Did you build the plumbing?”

  He nodded. “With my Pa. At first we lived out of buckets but our first winter that was too difficult because it kept freezing. It still does, sometimes, in the pipes.”

  Gia nodded. “And did you and your dad build the cabin, too? Or did you buy it as is?”

  “We built it. Camped out for a while in the summer, putting it together. Took too long to haul supplies up the mountain so we used what we could find around here.” That first summer had been filled with happiness, despite his mother’s recent death. He’d spent time with his father, bonded with him, for the first time in years. Looking back, the initial signs of the strange behavio
r which characterized his later years had already taken root. But that summer, Elijah had enjoyed the labor and the bonding.

  “I don’t see electricity,” she commented. “Why’s that?”

  He shrugged. “Too difficult. Not enough sun for solar. And the trees block the wind for wind power. My friend, Aaron, says I should try hydroelectric, from the nearest river. Apparently you can get these devices that do it. But it’s expensive. I don’t think I could make my own version.”

  “Wait, so you don’t have visitors, and you don’t have a phone, but you do have a friend. I was beginning to wonder,” she teased.

  Elijah couldn’t help a smile. He didn’t get teased often. Only Aaron was brave enough. Though since Elijah only ever talked to three or four people, it was a small sample of possibilities.

  “When I go in for supplies, he’s usually in the diner,” Elijah explained. “Sara, who runs it, gives me a free meal and a drink. She’s nice. So I talk to Aaron then. He’s good at this living off the grid thing. He’s read all the books, has all the latest technology.”

  Elijah expected her to ask about the technology, since she seemed fascinated by his lack. But the next words were not what he’d expected.

  “Sara? Is she another…friend of yours?”

  Elijah blinked. Was there some meaning he was missing? “She talks to me. She’s nice. I don’t know if we’re friends, not like me and Aaron.”

  “So she’s something more than a friend?”

  Elijah choked on his soup. “No,” he managed, finally understanding what she was asking. His face was hot as he stared into his soup.

  “Oh,” she replied, hiding a pleased smile.

  “I think she likes Aaron like that.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Ooooh, town gossip. How does Aaron feel?”

  Elijah shrugged. “I’ve never asked. But he’s in her diner all the time.”

  She grinned. “Excellent. I don’t know these people and I’m already invested in their romance. I hope they get it together.”

  Elijah considered telling her Aaron and Sara had known each other for five years and hadn’t managed to make a move on each other yet. At this rate, he didn’t think it would happen anytime soon. But he didn’t want to dim the pleasure in her eyes.

  “Maybe you’ll meet them when we get to town.”

  Then, her eyes did dim, and Elijah’s heart went with it. What had he said?

  “Yes, I’d like to meet your friends.”

  Elijah studied her face for a long moment, but couldn’t understand her sudden shift in mood. Instead, he changed the subject.

  “I might need to go hunting this afternoon, or we won’t have meat for dinner. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. Do what you need to do. I don’t want to be a bother.”

  He frowned at her. “You’re not a bother, you’re injured.”

  “Maybe I’m a bit of both.”

  He shook his head. “I…I like having you here,” he mumbled into his soup. And though he’d said it to comfort her, he found it was true. He liked having someone here with him, if only for a while. Someone to talk to, to share his things with.

  It didn’t hurt she was beautiful. Especially sitting there in his bed, with his sweater hanging off her small frame. He wished he could join her. Touch her. Strip that sweater from her body along with everything else.

  But he shouldn’t think that. Not when they tightened his skin and made his pulse pound. Later, when she was gone, he’d allow himself time to imagine her, to think of the what-ifs. Then, he could take care of his throbbing cock.

  Now, he had to ignore those feelings she inspired in him until she was gone or he might be stupid enough to act on them. He couldn’t imagine anything more embarrassing than clumsily touching her, attempting to please her.

  “I like being here,” she whispered, dragging his thoughts back to the present. “I feel safe.”

  Elijah scowled, his erection immediately disappearing. “You weren’t safe where you came from?”

  She hesitated. “No.” Her gaze darted to the bag of money by the wall.

  What did that mean? Had she made herself unsafe by earning or stealing that money? Or was it something else?

  “So,” she said, a little too loudly. “Tell me what else there is to this place.”

  Elijah smiled. “How about I show you?”

  Ten minutes later she was in a borrowed pair of boots with multiple pairs of socks to keep them from slipping off her tiny feet. She was back in the pilot’s ski pants and jacket as she stepped outside. He wrapped one of her arms around his so she could use him for balance on her bad ankle. Her bare hand brushed his skin. He’d need to make her some gloves. His spares would be too big for her.

  He gestured to the garden with its raised beds. “It’s winter, so there aren’t many vegetables left. I’ll plant them again when the soil isn’t as hard.” If only she could see it in spring and summer, when everything bloomed. It was a beautiful riot of color, instead of this straggly patch that didn’t look like much. He’d always been proud of his garden. But would it impress Gia?

  “And what are those?” she asked, pointing to the covered plants.

  “Root vegetables. They survive quite well in the frozen ground.”

  She nodded. “I don’t know anything about gardening. I’ve always lived in cities and bought my vegetables from a supermarket. But out here I suppose it’s life or death, isn’t it? Getting it right, I mean.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t you ever get afraid?” she asked.

  He hummed, considering. Did he get afraid? “Sometimes. When an accident happens, or something doesn’t go as planned, and I know I’ll have a lean few months. Or something essential breaks and I can’t get to town to fix it. But it’s exhilarating in a way, too. I live or die by my own hard work. Everything is down to me, and I don’t have to rely on anyone. It’s freeing.”

  She considered the plot of potatoes, along with his words. “Free. That sounds nice.”

  He eyed her. What was her story? Should he pry?

  “Does it ever get lonely?” she asked quietly.

  The question was a kick to the guts. He studied the familiar garden beds, the chicken roost, the stump where he chopped his wood, the structure where he tanned his leather. All so loved, so familiar. He couldn’t imagine living any other way. But through it all was the quiet he tried so hard to ignore.

  “Yeah,” he said eventually, admitting aloud a truth he hadn’t let himself fathom. His gaze met hers, locked there, and all the breath left him in a rush.

  She stumbled in her oversized shoes. Elijah caught her, pulling her against his chest to steady her. She was so soft, felt so right in his arms. He tilted his hips back so his hard erection wouldn’t press into her, giving him away.

  Her lips parted, and Elijah had the mad idea she wanted him to kiss her.

  He was tempted, so tempted, to press his lips against hers. But it wouldn’t be right. She would leave soon, and then he’d have to go back to his solitary existence without her. And he didn’t think he could do that and stay sane if he’d had a taste of her.

  That was even if he’d read her signals correctly. There was no way he could be sure. It’s not like he had a world of experience to compare it to.

  Instead of doing what his body, mind, and heart begged him to, he stepped away from her.

  He cleared his throat. “So, over here we have the chicken hutch. You can see the walls have two layers with air between. That helps it stay warm in winter and cool in summer.” He was rambling, an unusual occurrence for him. But it gave him time to pull himself together.

  “I’ve been thinking of getting a sheep,” he blurted out.

  Gia blinked. “A sheep?”

  “For the milk. And the wool. More versatile than a cow or a goat.”

  “Right. So what’s stopping you?” Was she humoring him by asking the question? He decided to take it at face value. Since his father had passed, he hadn’t had a
nyone to discuss issues with, or bounce ideas off, and he realized he missed it.

  “Well, it’s another mouth to feed. And I’d have to milk it often and I don’t think I need that much milk. I’d have to learn to make cheese and stuff maybe. Pasteurize the milk. And I’ve never sheared a sheep. I don’t know how much wool they produced. Then I’d need to turn it into yarn. It’s probably easier for me to trade to get ready-made wool and milk.”

  He shrugged trailing off.

  “Maybe you should get one once you have more mouths to feed. A wife. Kids.”

  Her words tugged at things best left untouched. If she unraveled those knots, his life would forever be altered. Not for the better, either.

  But the longer she stayed, the more those thoughts burrowed into his mind, made him think things could be different. He reminded himself of his father’s words, that imagining things which could never happen would only lead to sadness. But Gia’s presence was stronger than his long-dead father’s, and the words were a faint echo of what they’d once been.

  He led her around the yard, explaining more about what he did every day. Turning the compost, feeding the chickens, hunting in the forest beyond. He showed her some of the traps he’d set inside the tree line. He explained about chopping wood—not only for the fire, but to make his garden structures, his tanning frames, repair broken parts of the cabin, or anything else.

  His days had always been full. Now he felt a strange mix of self-consciousness and pride at what he did with them. He’d built this place, first with his father, and then made some improvements after his father’s death. He’d worked hard to make it what it was. But Gia was the first person other than him to see it, to know how he spent his days, and he worried she’d judge him. She’d come from such a different world, one which made his appear pathetically simple by comparison. He reminded himself a simple life was the point of being out here, but he found Gia’s opinion mattered.

  She didn’t act like she hated it. In fact, she asked many curious questions, and seemed fascinated by everything he told her. The more they talked, the more he relaxed.