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Marrying the Mountain Man Spring s Mountain Men 1st Edition Khloe Summers
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Cover design by: Bookin' It Designs
Editor: Link Phoenix
www.authorkhloesummers.com
Chapter One
Aspen
Eighteen Years Ago
Emptiness echoes through me like water in a hollow tin can. It shouldn’t. I have a fiancé who loves me and a beautiful baby girl. She’s six months old today and I’ve never been happier. There’s a beauty in the house that hasn’t been there before. A purpose. A missing link that we didn’t know we needed, but maybe it’s just me.
My fiancé, Steve, stays focused on work. Early mornings, late nights. It’s the life of a scientist.Who’dhaveguessedit?His work ethic is part of the reason I fell in love with him. He has a passion for knowledge like no other person on Earth and watching him think through a problem is like watching an artist paint. It’s mesmerizing.
“She’s growing up fast. I’m going to miss you guys around here.” Sergei, a giant of a man I’ve run into around town, stands in the doorway of the trading post. His tone is deep and rugged. He wears a baseball cap backward, sports a short salt and pepper beard, and he’s covered in ink. When we got to Alaska three months ago, I was alone with a baby. Sergei was the first to make me feel like I had a place here.
“Yeah, we’ll miss seeing you, too. Too bad we didn’t get to meet your boys. Any idea when they’ll be home?”
Sergei leans against the inside frame of the door. He’s broad and thick, towering up above the top rim of the frame. “Ah, not ‘til next month, probably. Wish I could’ve gone with ‘em, but I have enough work to do here, and that job down in Washington only called for a few men. You must be excited to get back to your life, though.”
I drag in a deep breath and nod. “Yeah, I mean… it’ll be good.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“It’s…” I sigh. “I am. I love home, but I don’t know… sorry. I’m not thinking straight this morning.”
He glances down at the ground, then back up toward me. “Sounds like you need to talk.”
“Talk about what?” Steve’s hands grip me from behind. “What am I missing?”
Sergei stares at me, his eyes on mine with an unspoken empathy I can’t define. It’s been like this since we met. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but when he looks at me, I feel seen. Like he has the key that opens every door I’d ever locked. There’s warmth in that. A comfort.
Maybethereshouldn’tbe.
I turn back toward Steve and smile. “We were just talking about heading home.”
“Can’t wait. I’m ready to pay five dollars less for everything again. I don’t know how you folks do it. Ten bucks for a gallon of milk is just too much.” He laughs and scoops Everleigh up in his arms. “Plus, I’ve got to get this one back to the gym.” He pokes at my stomach and laughs.
My face heats with embarrassment and I lower my head. “What are you doing?”
He pokes me again then holds up one hand in an ear to ear grin. “Joking, babe. It’s a joke.”
Sergei stands taller, crosses his arms over his chest, and groans. His stare lies heavy on Steve. Sergei’s not the kind of guy to engage. I watched him have an argument with the postal clerk last week and the whole thing was done with a series of sighs, groans, and direct eye contact. I’m guessing she solved his problem because he offered her a half smile before he walked away.
There’s power in that. A man who doesn’t need to argue his point because he figures you should know the answer.
Steve isn’t like that. Steve will debate his stance on anything given the opportunity. Rightorwrong.
“Oh, come on…” Steve smiles wider before pulling me into his orbit and kissing my cheek. “It was a joke, seriously. Sorry to offend.
She knows I love her. I’m overly excited to have finished this project. I’m talking like a crazy man.”
Neither Sergei nor I respond, but Sergei’s gaze is back on mine with empathy again.
I don’t doubt that Steve is excited. For the last three months, he’s been studying the effect that pollution is having on the soil up here. Apparently, particle matter and ozone pollution pose threats to plants and can even stunt the growth of wildlife. The group of scientists he works with have been eager to find a solution and they’ve come up with a top-secret plan that’ll curb the effects of said pollution. That said, excitement doesn’t really excuse shitty comments.
Finally, I glance away from Sergei, attempting to shake off the heat that’s emanating toward me. But before I gather my senses, my eyes are back on his like a fiend.
“I’ll let you two say your goodbyes.” Steve’s voice is underwater in the background. I know he has Everleigh, and I feel the warmth of his body move away from mine, but I’m not sure I’m in the room anymore. I mean, I’m here. I’m in the quiet little trading post, but I’m not really here. I’m in space, floating around, wondering where the ground is.
“You know you can write,” Sergei finally says, bringing me back to Earth. “Call too, but I don’t get great reception up here.”
“For sure. Yeah, I’ll write. You, ugh…”
“I don’t want to disrespect your husband, but—”
“Fiancé.” I’m not sure why the correction seems important, but it does.
“Fiancé. Right. I don’t want to disrespect him, but he shouldn’t talk to you like that. You need to speak up.”
My cheeks heat. “Yeah, well, I have put on some weight, so… it’s not a big deal.” This is a lie. I’m crushed by Steve’s comment. I only had a baby six months ago. My body is still repairing. Besides that, why would he call me out publicly about something I’m
insecure about? That said, apparently, I’m the girl who makes excuses now.
Sergei’s giant hand reaches out toward my shoulder, his dark brown gaze on mine with steady heat as the scent of cedar and pine surrounds me. “You’re perfect the way you are, and anyone who tells you otherwise is full of shit. Tell me you hear me.”
My mouth has dropped open, and though I don’t mean to wet my lips, I do.
His gaze drops to my mouth before meeting mine again. “Tell me you hear me, little one.”
I swallow hard.
Littleone.
He’s called me littleonesince we met three months ago. I always assumed it had something to do with the age gap, or it was his way of telling me that the connection we share is platonic. I’m twenty-two and I’d bet he’s in his mid-forties. Whatever it means, I’m going to miss the subtle way those words sound rolling off his tongue.
“I hear you,” I finally manage. “And you, ugh, you make sure and eat the rest of that banana bread I made, okay? I even put the walnuts in like you like.”
He scrubs his hand over his beard and opens his arms. “Get over here, girl.”
Being that Sergei was the first and only person to welcome me into this small community, I’ve gained a trust with him that I wasn’t expecting. A few times when Steve was in the field, Sergei picked up the slack and did a run to the trading post for me. He even showed me how to make homemade rash cream out of beeswax and olive oil during a storm when Everleigh was out of the store brand stuff. That same night, he listened to me cry for hours because I missed my family. I’m talking belly ache crying. That night, the man should’ve gotten a plaque.
He didn’t impose his opinion, he didn’t tell me it would be okay, and he didn’t try to fix it. He just listened. A few times he held out his hand and once he offered me a tissue. He asked questions here and there to let me know he cared, but that’s all. I’ve never
had anyone do that for me before. Maybe that’s pathetic. Either way, I’ve been lucky to know him, and without a shadow of a doubt, my world back in Colorado will be different without him there.
I lean into his solid chest, dragging in the scent of the woods that’s embedded on his skin. I try to commit it to memory, though I don’t fully know why. Maybe because he’s become a comfort to me. A friend. A port in the storm. Someday, I’ll be walking through a forest and this moment will come back to me. I’ll remember a man who was patient and kind. A man whose heart spoke to mine without a word between us. I’ll remember the way he held me in his arms when we said goodbye.
My heart flutters as our bodies press against one another and that feeling of emptiness I’d been having is gone. Right now, at this moment, I’m full. In fact, I’m overflowing, and I don’t want to let go.
Chapter Two
Sergei Present Day
This bear hunt has been one big pain in the ass. I brought four sons with me from Alaska to take this menace beast out, and I’m down all four of them. Not for valiant reasons of warrior strength, though. No, they found love.
Love.
They abandoned the mission for love.
“You’re looking better today.” Rowan laughs as he walks through the front door. He brought with him a cool air humidifier and a bag full of cough drops. “You’re not going to use this shit, but here it is anyway.”
“Why bring it if you know I won’t use it?”
“Because that’s what families do, Dad. They do nice things for the people they love.” He sighs and pulls open the fridge, yanking out the orange juice that he brought by earlier this week. “This shit might be actually helping you.”
“Vitamin C is doing its job, like I planned. Where are your brothers? You heard from ‘em lately?”
“Um… I know Peyton and Atlas are coming over tonight for a hunt, but I haven’t heard back from Hud yet. Not sure what’s up with him. I think he was taking his girl up to the lake.”
“It’s subzero. It’s not lake weather.”
“They were going ice fishing.”
“She don’t like fishing.”
“She likes peace. He puts his pole in the water, and she reads a book. It’s their thing.” He drags in a heavy breath. “You okay up here, quiet house and all? You haven’t been to town since you got sick. We’re worried about you.”
I’ve had the flu or some shit for over a month. Attempts have been made to put me on meds, but I’ve gotten better with good oldfashioned vitamins and fresh air… as predicted. “I’m good. People in town don’t want me there, anyway. Finish this hunt up tonight and we can get back to Alaska by the end of the week,” he groans. “Or at least I will. You fools sound like you’re staying here.”
“Ya know, not that I’d wish you on my worst enemy, but… wouldn’t it be nice to have someone around? A lady maybe? You gotta be lonely.”
I laugh and scrub my hand over my beard. “I’m not lonely. I’m tired and ready to go home. Not lonely.”
Rowan leans against the back counter, blocking most of the sunlight from the kitchen window. “You’re full of shit. You used to talk about this woman all the time. You remember her? I can’t think of her name, but I remember she left you banana bread or something. You’d make the recipe every once in a while and tell us stories about the conversations you’d have with her at the trading post. You very clearly have the capacity to be into someone. Why didn’t you ever look herup?”
I stare at my son and gather my thoughts carefully. Their mother left when they were young, too young to remember. For years, my focus was on them. To some extent, it probably still is. That’s what happens when four kids are left with a twenty-four-yearold father. We grew up together, we learned together, and we struggled together. I’m not sure if that makes me a good father or a relatable one.
“Not much time for dating with you boys around.”
“Bullshit,” Rowan laughs. “You had plenty of time. Lots of women up at post were looking to settle down and call you home. You pushed everyone away.”
“No one at post was lookin’ at me.” I chug down the last few sips of orange juice from the container. “You stop by cause you needed something?”
“Yeah, I was sent to talk some sense into ya, and see what the hell was going on in that head of yours. The guys and I want to see you happy.”
“What makes you think I’m not happy alone? I’ve got a case of beer in the fridge, a big hunt on the horizon, and nothing to hold me down. What else do I need?”
Rowan sighs. “You’d be surprised what the love of a good woman can do for ya. Just think about it.”
I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it a lot over the years. Eighteen, to be exact. God, it’s sick when I do the math. The length of time I’ve been hung up on one woman. One woman who’s probably married with half a dozen kids by now. I’m sure she hasn’t thought another second about me since the day she walked away.
She shouldn’t.
She’s not meant to.
I’m old enough to be her father.
If she’d wanted to write, she would’ve.
One envelope, one stamp, one single sheet of paper. If her life had taken a turn, she’d have come across these things in the span of eighteen years.
Rowan picks up on my silence and turns toward the door. “I’ll be back tonight with the guys, and I mean it. Think about what I said.”
“It’s our last chance to get this bear. Henry and Maddox are talking about calling in experts from Canada. Apparently, they think someone might be more equipped than us.”
“I heard.” Rowan shakes his head. “They aren’t. We’ll take the bear down tonight. No doubt about it. We know his path now. We can cut him off on the west end of the property as he passes through. Easy.”
Ifitweresoeasy,whyhaven’twedoneityet?I keep those words tucked inside.
See,I’mlearning.
“Well, he was causing shit on Main Street again last night. He was in the bakery again, messing with that temporary door they put up. People are losin’ patience.”
Rowan shakes his head. “If they want us off their property, it’s going to take longer to hunt. That’s how it goes.” He opens the door. “I’ll be back tonight. We’ll bring dinner.”
I grab a beer out of the fridge, pop the cap, and settle onto the couch with a heavy sigh.
I’ve never been one to hold on to feelings. Instead, I pluck them like thorns from my side and move on without much more thought to any of them. People have called me cold, but I don’t see the point in holding onto something so abstract as emotions. They come, go, change, grow, and die. What’s it all for?
Aspen is the exception to that rule, and not by choice.
My brain, or my heart, or whatever, won’t let her go. She’s there on my mind, like a lesion that can’t be removed. And believe me, I’ve tried.
I compiled a list of all the reasons we’d never work. I tried looking for other women. I tried looking her up before. I even tried settling on jerking off to the one photo I have of her. That last one went on for a long while. Hell, it happened again last week. I guess I thought it was exposure therapy or something. Granted, I know nothing about exposure therapy, other than the term. Maybe there’s more to it than masturbating.
For a while, I figured it was the loneliness. That maybe I’d clung to the idea of her as a way to get me through the cold nights. Then, I figured it was obsession. That isolation had led me to a mental illness I had no control over. It wasn’t until I spoke to a buddy down at the post that I realized it was probably a little of all those things. Hell, the version of her I have left probably isn’t even accurate anymore. Even if it were, I had no right feeling the way I did. She had a fiancé, even if he was all wrong for her.
Drawing in a deep breath, I stare out at the mountain range in the distance. This cabin may be run down, but the view is incredible. Jagged white caps, tall pine and balsam, a valley in the distance below.
For a second, I picture Aspen next to me, her hand in mine, a blanket on her lap. Everything is better… until it’s not, as reality sets in and I realize she’s never going to be next to me. In all likelihood, I’ll never see her again. I’ll never know what she smells like after a shower, or what it’s like to hold her under the stars, or what she sounds like crying out for pleasure.
The realization forces panic into my chest until I stand up and begin to pace. Maybe it’s time to get her out of my head for good.
Chapter Three
Aspen
“Can’t a girl be thankful for her best friend?”
Lark admires the bracelet I made for her last week. It’s made with turquoise beads that are supposed to bring good fortune. I found all the beads at estate sales.
She gushes. “You can, but this is so sweet!” Her lips pout. “I love you!”
“I love you, too!” I hug her and we settle at the small round table inside the small café off Main Street. They opened up last week and it’s the first time I’ve been inside. So far, so good. The décor reminds me of an old train car with rows of boldly colored booths lined up against windows with chrome finishes. This is the secondbest hobby I’ve found lately. I love keeping a little journal to rate all the restaurants in Colorado. I even bought little stars to make the pages look pretty. My main hobby right now is jewelry making. Last month, it was line dancing. The month before that, candle making. I can’t remember what came before that one, but I think it was watercolor.
Lark’s brows narrow as she stares at me. “So, how are you doing?” There’s empathy in her tone as she plunks a cube of sugar in her tea. “You weren’t great the last time we talked. Things getting any better?”
I never know what to say to people. Am I supposed to be sad that my marriage failed miserably? Am I supposed to be torn apart and grieving? I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I should be, but it’s mostly when I think about my daughter. Sure, she’s grown, but I know the thought of us divorcing rattles her core. How couldn’t it? I love going home to see my parents for Christmas. Knowing they’re
together makes everything so much better. I couldn’t give that to my daughter, and it’s eating me alive.
“I’m okay,” I finally say. “What about you?”
Lark drags in a deep breath as she shoots me a knowing look. “You’re not okay. What’s wrong?”
I shrug, biting back tears. “Really, I’m good. I’m just… figuring things out.”
Lark bites her bottom lip and stares out the window before glancing back again. Sometimes, I’m jealous of her. In her midtwenties, she’s younger than me, has her whole life to make mistakes with, and her eyes still sparkle with excitement for what’s ahead. “You’re not fine. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t know,” I sigh. “It’s nothing. If I start, I’ll cause a scene. Trust me, I’m good.”
“No way! Cause a scene! Be about it! If friends can’t help you through your bullshit, what good are they?” She stirs her tea, watching the sugar dissolve before snapping her gaze back up toward me. “I’m serious. Tell me everything right now.” She grins. “I order you.”
I stare toward her and exhale, metering how much I should say. Do I tell her about the late-night fantasies I have about a man from twenty years ago, or do I keep those to myself, because I’m pretty sure hanging onto anything that long without action is the definition of insanity, right?
Finally, I say, “I’m lost. I mean, maybe it was too much to file for divorce the year Everleigh left for college.”
“Okay, so you’re lost. What do you think would help?”
I smile. “A map would be nice. You have one of those?”
“I do.” She leans in. “First stop is the land of fuckery. You need to get laid.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah. That would be nice, but I think you need a man for that, and well…”
“There’s no one? No one from work you’ve had your eye on, or maybe a guy from the past you can look up?”
When she says the last part, I’m brought back to my crazy thoughts of the big, rough Alaskan I never stopped thinking about
flooding in all at once.
“You’re thinking of someone,” she probes. “Spill it.”
“Okay,” I sigh, “there was this one guy, but he lives out in Alaska, and he’s like twenty-five years older than me. So by now, he’d be in his mid-sixties. That’s weird, right?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Is it a hotmid-sixties or an oldmidsixties? There’s a difference.”
“Yeah,” I grin, “wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him in eighteen years. I think he had kids my age, so… I probably misread the connection.”
Her brows narrow. “Tell me about him.”
I sigh. “He’s tall, rough, covered in black ink, and he’s kind of a grump, but I can’t stop thinking about how easily he saw me, ya know? I shouldn’t have, but I know deep down I compared every interaction Steve and I had to that standard.”
“I don’t think that’s wrong. I think you’re human. People inherently search for what feels right. Sounds like you found it with Mr. Big, Rough, and Inked. Maybe you should reach out.”
I smile and shake my head. “Yeah, no. That’s long gone. I wouldn’t even know how at this point. He told me to write years ago, and I never did. I’m sure he’s found some cute little Alaskan to fall in love with and bake him banana bread.”
“Banana bread?”
“Yeah, he liked my banana bread.” I stare down at the teacup and circle my finger around the rim. Why do I miss him, still,after all these years? WhydoIthinkabouthim?
“Besides, I’m sure my brain has created a version of him that doesn’t exist, anyway. I mean, it’s been so long. I was young, and in a terrible relationship. I’m sure I saw him a lot differently than he was.” I resituate in my chair. “Let’s talk about something else. You’re doing the mail order thing, right?”
She grins. “I can’t. I see that website and I’m so tempted, but it’s probably unnatural. I’ll meet someone at some point.”
“What about Clive? You’ve talked about him a lot lately.”
She twists her hair to the side of her shoulder and leans in. “Now, if you want to talk about something with no shot in hell, talk
about Clive. I mean, who develops a thing for their ex’s dad? I can’t stress to you enough how that’s our secret. I’m serious. You know that, right?”
I laugh. “I know. We’re alone here. No one can hear us. Besides, you’re lecturing me about following my heart. Maybe you should, too.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m going to get all hippy on you right now, so hear me out.”
This should be good.
“I believe your body knows when you’ve met your soulmate.”
“So, do you know with,” I lower my voice, “Clive?”
She bites back a smile. “We’re not talking about that. Anyway… alarms go off, you know? You remember him for a reason. Think about it. How many people in your life have you met? Surely, you’ve run into other men in the grocery store. Do you remember any of them?”
“No.”
“But you remember this one. Why?”
“Well, because I’ve created an idealized version of him that meets all my needs, when in reality he can’t.”
“Right. No one can, but he came the closest, right? Him, on his own. Sure, your brain might be filling in holes, but you’re doing that for a reason. What if he’s out there doing the same thing with you? Besides,” she shrugs and bites back a grin, “I bet he knows all kind of tricks.”
I roll my eyes at her comment, but my clit throbs at the thought alone. I’ve never been touched by a man the way Sergei touched me. We only shared a hug, but my body memorized the way he moved against me.
I lift the cold glass of water from the table and sip it down slowly. The tea is too warm for my overheated body. I need something refreshing. When I’ve successfully gulped down half the liquid, I glance up at my friend, whose eyes have gone wide.
“You’ve thought about it, haven’t you? You dirty girl!”
“Look, I had to beg Steve to have sex with me. Of course, I wondered what it would be like to have a man want me.”
“Well, you could’ve imagined anyone. Instead, you imagined this Alaskan. Let’s unpack that.” She smiles and rests her chin on her folded hand.
“Now you’re a counselor?”
“You didn’t know that?” She smiles. “So, when you think about this big, rough, Alaskan man sexually, what do you imagine?”
“Stop.” I pinch my lips together to keep a smile from forming. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“No way. This is good. When did you find yourself thinking about him most? In the shower, when you’re having breakfast, when you touch yourself?”
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Lark is always dirty like this. It’s her thing. I need to just roll with it. Besides, if I’m being honest with myself, I’ve thought about Sergei hundreds, if not thousands of times over the years. When a song plays, when someone says the word ‘Alaska,’ when I feel lonely, when I’m desperate to be touched. Hell, when I’m sad I think about how he’d react, and how his heart would mend mine. I think about him when I’m horny and I need to get off. I imagine his big frame pressing me against a wall. I imagine his rough hands like a necklace on my throat. I imagine his deep voice in my ear, telling me to bend over.
My clit throbs as I get lost in thought.
God, I’m sick. I was married for eighteen years. I don’t want it to sound like I was lusting after another man the entire time, because I wasn’t. I wanted things to work with Steve. I loved him. And truthfully, if anyone has been idealized, it’s him. Time after time I let him put me down and make me feel like nothing, only so I could convince myself later that he wasn’t a bad guy, and that I was the problem. I lived for eighteen years on an idealized version of a man I thought I loved.
Sometimes, I think about how unhappy I was, and I wish I’d have told Sergei what I was feeling. Maybe by now we’d have a little place of our own. Everleigh would have siblings and she’d think of Sergei as a second father. We’d have eighteen years of a life to look back on. I’d have a story. I’d have a person. I’d have a home.
Instead, Everleigh has moved on and I’m sure she feels she has nothing to come back to. Me, I’m left here with a billion hobbies that all add up to nothing.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I’m thankful for the reprieve. I’m not sure how to answer Lark’s question. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this. I’m on call this weekend.”
“Maybe. Not now, though. I need to figure out what I want to do with my life.” Lark smiles before nodding and redirecting her attention toward her own cell as the waitress brings us a fresh pot of tea.
“Nurse Aspen here. What can I help you with?”
“Hey there.” The man’s voice on the other end of the line is dark and rough. “I’m looking for someone to do a wellness check with my dad. I think he had pneumonia.”
“Had?”
“Yeah. He’s doing better for the most part, but I think he’d benefit from a good listen to his lungs. Can I have someone come up to the cabin and check?”
“I’m confused. So, this isn’t an emergency?”
The man hesitates. “No. I think he’s doing better. I’d just like to check before we travel. Is this the emergency line?”
“Yeah. I’m only taking emergency calls today. It’s Saturday. I’d be happy to see your father in my office on Monday. What time works for you?”
“I’ll never get him to come down off the mountain. Hell, it’s been a struggle getting him to see a doctor at all.”
A lot of men up here are the rough and tough kind. The too good for medical care kind. The live off tree sap and prayers kind. “If he doesn’t want help, I can’t do much for him. I’m sorry.”
The man on the phone groans. “I’ll make it worth your time. Double pay.”
“I appreciate that, but I can’t force a patient to receive care.”
“He doesn’t know what’s good for him.”
“None of us do, sir. Can I make the appointment for you on Monday?”
The man drags in a deep breath. “Sure. Can I get you to come up to the house, though?”
“No, sir. I’ve played this game with many tough men like your father. They all refuse care. I need to be available to clients who want to be seen.”
He huffs. “I understand. Let me make an appointment then. I’ll call you if we can’t make it.”
I pull my phone away from my ear and check my calendar. “Looks like I have ten a.m. on Monday morning. Does that work for you?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, name?”
“Laskin. Rowan Laskin. You might have heard of us. Everyone in town has something to say about how we’re…”
The man goes on but the name sticks. Laskin.
My heart stops and my mouth goes dry.
“What’s your father’s name?”
“Sergei.”
I suck in a deep breath, one after another until the room spins, and I nearly pass out. There’snowayinhellthisisthesame man.
“Is everything okay?” Rowan finally says. “I know we have a bad name around town, but whatever we did, I’m sure we didn’t mean it.”
One by one the dominos fall into place, and I wonder why they hadn’t before. Four boys and their father here from Alaska to hunt a bear. Whydidn’tIthinkthatcouldbeSergei?
“I’m sorry. I can’t help.” I hang up the line and suck down the rest of the cool water gulp after unsatisfying gulp.
“What’s wrong?” Lark sips her tea. “You need to leave? I can have the waitress get our drinks to go.”
“No. I…” Words form in my throat, but they won’t come out.
“What’s wrong?” She leans in and reaches for my hand. “Is Everleigh okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s not that. I, ugh,” I swallow hard, “that was a med call. There’s a guy up on the mountain that needs some help.”
“Oh, so you’ve gotta go. I’ll have her put our tea in to go cups.”
“No. No. No.” I’m still like a statue.
“Okay…” She narrows her brows and sits back in the chair. “You’re acting funny. Tell me what’s wrong.”
I drag in air, filtering it out slowly. My hands are shaking, my thighs too. “That was Rowan Laskin.”
“Oh, one of the asshole Alaskans up here pissing everyone off? What did they do now?”
“No, it’s not that. He wants me to go take care of his father.”
“Okay,” her brows narrow, “why aren’t you going?”
My jaw drops open, and I lean toward Lark as though I’m about to drop a bomb. “His father is Sergei. Sergei is the guy. The guy, the guy. The one. The one I’ve been talking about.”
She gasps and wraps her hand over her face. “It’s fate! I’ve bumped into that guy in town. He’d just gotten here with his boys. They were at the general store getting supplies. He’s hot. Like rugged hot. You’ve got to go see him!”
“What was he like? Did you talk to him?” There’s anxiety in my voice as I talk.
“No way. He was real intimidating. He’s huge and didn’t say a word.” Her brows go downturned. “Why aren’t you packing things up to go see him? This is your chance. I mean, coincidences like this don’t happen.”
While I agree this is a crazy coincidence, I can’t dismiss the fact that seeing Sergei after nearly twenty years will be awkward as hell. I look different. A lot different. I’m more jaded than I used to be, too.
“What if he doesn’t remember me or doesn’t feel the same? I don’t think my heart can take it right now.”
“That’s valid,” Lark nods, “but what if you don’t go? Will you regret it? Five years from now when you’re still fantasizing about this guy, will you regret not trying? And if he’s still thinking about you,
the consequences surely outweigh the possibility of a negative, right?”
She has a point. “What if he’s married?”
“He’s up here alone. He’s not married.”
“How do you know, though? I mean, maybe his wife has a life in Alaska that she can’t drop on a dime for a bear hunt.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s not married. I can ask around town, but seriously, go with your gut. At the very least, you’ll get closure.”
Closure is such an interesting concept. What does it do for anyone? Why do people need neat little circles around everything? It doesn’t help. Truly, I don’t want to stop thinking about the version of him I’ve created. I need that fantasy. It’s hope that something good exists and might be waiting for me.
Then again, maybe this is my chance. Maybe the universe did bring him here for a reason. Maybe everything I’ve ever needed is right here, on top of Rugged Mountain.
Chapter Four
Sergei
I finish off a carton of orange juice and settle it onto the counter. This hunt tonight has to go off without a problem and I’m going to need to be as healthy as I can get. Granted, these antibiotics have been staring me in the face for a week and I’ve not touched one. Don’t need that shit either.
I pull out the map and sprawl it out on the table, following the trail through the woods to where I believe the bear travels each night. He comes down into town at dusk and travels back up through the balsam forest at around four. If we can cut him off at the river passing, then we have a chance. If not, we’re fucked. This storm rolling in his huge. It’s possibly the biggest the mountain has seen all season. If we don’t get the bear now, it’ll be weeks before conditions warrant a good hunt again, and the Canadians will be called.
Bottom line, the bear needs to be removed. He’s causing trouble in town and poses a threat to the public. That said, we also have a reputation to maintain. I’ve eliminated menacing cougars out in California, taken out troublesome moose in Montana, and stopped invasive coyotes everywhere in between. Prestige is what keeps big hunts coming. Losing one is like saying we can’t handle it. Wecan, Goddamnit!
As I drag my hand across the paper, a light knock hits at the front door. I’m not expecting anyone, and my stomach tightens. I’m sure this is someone from town come to tell me what a pain in the ass we’ve been, or it could be Henry and Maddox again. They own most of the land up here and gave us the go on this hunt. At this point, we could be getting the axe today.
I don’t want to deal with this shit right now. One more day. One more fucking day and we’ll have this damn bear, and we can all move on with our lives.
I storm toward the door and swing it open, shielding my face from the intense sun that filters in with it. Fucking hell, it’s bright. It’s probably the last of it we’ll see until after the storm blows through. I should be out enjoying it, chopping some wood, getting shit ready for the haul home, but studying maps is all I can focus on.
“What do ya want?” I growl out the words and stand in the doorway, holding my arm up to block the light.
“Hello.” A woman’s voice isn’t what I expected. I move my arm down and squint into the sunlight to see a short, curved frame with light blonde hair staring back at me.
My heart stalls and my throat goes dry. “Yes?” I’ve heard this voice before, and though my brain can’t place a name with it, something inside of me begins to smile.
The woman steps forward and reaches out a hand. “I, ugh, I heard you were in town, and I… I don’t know if you remember me. My name is Aspen. We met in Alaska about twenty years ago.”
JesusChrist!
I’m not a man that’s easily shaken, but right here and now, an earthquake is happening.
“Fuck. Yeah, I remember you. God damn! Come in.”
She lowers her hand and I feel like an ass for not shaking it. What I really want to do is pull her into my arms and squeeze her, but that might be inappropriate, especially considering the exposure therapy I’ve been doing half the morning.
“How the hell have you been?”
Her gaze lifts to meet mine and we’re back in the same spot we were eighteen years ago, moment for moment, like no time has passed. How’sthatpossible?Howcouldthatmuchtimebegone, butIstillfeelthesameexactway?It’s like we’re still in that trading post, saying goodbye. Like I never let her go.
I question for a moment if any of this real. Maybe the boys drugged me with those ‘antibiotics.’Maybe I’ve passed out and this
is all some fantasy my brain has attached to in order to make sense of the drugs coursing through my bloodstream.
“I’ve been good,” she finally says. “Well, not good. Well… good. Some stuff is good. Everleigh is all grown, and off to college this year. She’s a science major, like her father.”
Herfather .
I glance down at Aspen’s hand in search of a ring, but the space is bare.
“How’s Shawn… Stewart? I forget his name.”
She grins. “Steve. Yeah, we, ugh, we divorced late last year. He’s good, though. He’s out in Wyoming now doing field research. What about you? How are things? It’s crazy you’re up here.”
“You have no idea.” Words by the dozens filter through my head but none of them stick.
Her divorce is the permission my body has been waiting eighteen years to hear.
It was the good in me that let her walk away all those years ago. It was the good in me that valued her marriage and sat in the shadows waiting. It was the good in me that didn’t overcomplicate her life with my feelings.
Now, all of that is gone, and all that’s left is the bad, bad man staring at this angel in front of me.
I cup her face in my hand and stare down at her, looking for some kind of sign. Her blue eyes glitter up toward me and she sighs gently, leaning into my palm.
There it is. The single best sound in the world… surrender. Her eyes close as my hand wanders to the back of her neck. I pull her in close.
Fuck, it’s been too long. Her frame lands against mine with heavy intent, just like we’re in sync. This is where she belongs. Where I belong. Where we belong together.
She backs against the wall, and I drag my hand over her shoulder and wrap around her throat. Her eyes meet mine.
That sigh. It’s there again.
Fuck!
My cock is hard, threatening the zipper on my jeans. One hand on the wall, I lean in and lift her chin with my thumb. Her bottom lip quivers and I angle in slowly, giving her a chance to push me away or tell me I’ve read the signals all wrong. She doesn’t. She tips up onto her toes and meets me in the middle. The kiss is soft and sweet, slow and meaningful, but then her tongue slips past my lips and the sweetness is gone.
Herbal tea and vanilla. It becomes its own flavor when melded with her scent of wildflowers and honey. Howdoesawomanstayso perfectforsomanyyears?It pains me to think of all that I’ve missed. The smiles, the heartache, the beauty in her day to day. I’ve thought about that a lot over the years. I wondered if he complained when she reached for him, or if he loved her like she should be loved. I wondered if she felt beautiful with him, or if she needed me to remind her. I wondered if she was satisfied with him, or he left her wanting more.
I kiss her harder to make up for the yearning, but it’s not enough. I need more.
My hands move over her frame, onto her shoulder, over her breasts. I’m not polite, soft, or careful. There’s a neediness built up from years of waiting that’s uncontrollable.
“Did you come here hoping I’d touch you, little one?”
She sighs again. “I’ve wanted you to touch me again since the day you let go.”
I can’t help but smile. “You’ve been thinking of me?”
“Only every other day.” She swallows hard and rubs her hand against my hard cock. “I couldn’t figure it out. I didn’t know if you felt the same way. I mean, you’re older, and I’m… and when you called me little one, I figured you thought of me as—”
“Did you like that?”
“I do. I think about it all the time. The way your voice sounded when you said it. The way you looked at me.” She pants. “I love it. I missed it. It made me feel… taken care of. Like I was yours.” A tear falls down her cheek and I thumb it away.
I’m overwhelmed. There’s so much I need right now. I need to hold her, I need to kiss her, I need to hear every detail of her life for the last eighteen years. That said, something more animalistic takes over as I lean into her ear and growl, “Take off that pretty dress, little one. We have catching up to do.”
Chapter Five
Aspen
I drag in a deep breath as Sergei’s rough beard brushes over my bare skin. His big, demanding hands are on my shoulders, my chest, my hips. He moves with hunger and purpose. His hands are strong and sure, moving with need.
In eighteen years, Steve never touched me like this. Hell, he never looked at me like this. Never once did that man conjure up a genuine growl or stare at me like a fever had taken over his body. At times, he pretended by copying a movie or a book he’d seen me reading. I guess that’s effort, but it wasn’t like this. This is genuine. I feel it. Sergei needs me and I feel his intention.
I feel his body wanting to rush, but he slows himself down. I feel him taking in every inch of my skin. His lips land on my shoulders, my neck, my chest. He isn’t there for me. He’s there for himself, and it shows.
With each breath, he groans as though he’s memorizing the lines on my skin, my scent, my curves, savoring each second that his hands are on mine.
I close my eyes and sigh as his rough beard scrubs over my stomach. I’ve always been insecure about my stomach. My ex would avoid it. Sergei worships it. He kisses my soft belly and squeezes it with a growl.
“Fuck, little one. I’ve missed this body.”
It’s alarming for a second to be bare and touched in the places that hold so much insecurity. But the longer he admires me, the more I relax.
Moving up from my stomach, he sucks each nipple hard before clamping down with his teeth and scraping them off.
I jump against his huge frame and lean against the cold wall again.
“My little girl likes that,” he growls, palming over my pussy. My eyes close and my head leans back against the wall as he slides a finger inside of me.
“You’re soaking wet,” he whispers.
I sigh and lean into him, one arm wrapped around his shoulder, as the other unbuttons his flannel and weaves my fingers into the hair on his chest. I’m there for a moment until I travel back to the bulge in his jeans to tug them down.
Hand still in my pussy, he steps out of his jeans, and kicks them back. “You sure you’re okay with all this? I don’t have protection. I sure as hell wasn’t expecting you to show up.”
An avalanche of questions invades my mind. I want to know everything, but one question replays. Hashebeenwithanyoneelse? I’m sure he has. It’s been eighteen years. He didn’t think I was coming back. Of course, he’s been with other women. That only makes sense.
Whydoesthethoughtmakemesojealous?
Suddenly riddled with insecurity, I open my mouth to ask, but his finger hits a spot at the back of my pussy, and I lose focus. Besides, even if there were others, I know by looking at him they didn’t mean anything. I’m where his heart has been.
“Oh, little one, you like that?” He thrusts harder, moving his fingers with focus.
I pant and grip his biceps tight as he works me over. “Yeah, I love it. I’m going to come. Don’t stop!”
“Good,” he groans. “Come for me. Be a good little girl and come on my hand.”
My heart pounds and my thighs shake. I’m so close now.
I grip his giant cock in my hand and stroke, desperate for him to spread me wide. I’ve never felt need like this in all my life.
He grins and pulls his fingers from my pussy, licking them off like a wild bear who’s stuck his paw in a honeypot. “I’m doing this all wrong. You need punishment.”
“Punishment?” I pant. “Why?”
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