LOST

by Lane Parker

  Table of Contents

  LOST

  Copyright© 2019 by Lane Parker

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Dearest Stalker Teaser

  About the Author

  Books by Lane Parker

  LOST

  A Mountain Man Rescue Romance

  By

  J.S. Scott

  writing as Lane Parker

  Copyright© 2019 by Lane Parker

  All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Stacey Chappell

  ISBN 978-1-946660-99-2

  Please visit me at:

  https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLaneParker

  Sign up for my newsletter http://eepurl.com/dF90NH

  Chapter One

  James

  People say you can judge a man by the company he keeps. His friends, his family, his lovers.

  Hell, maybe that old saying was true.

  If it was, I guess that made me a prick because I didn’t keep any company at all.

  And I liked it that way.

  Not that I really cared what people thought of me. There was nobody who meant enough to me that I gave a damn what they thought.

  Not anymore.

  I’d been in the backwoods for eight years now, and I’d become accustomed to caring only about myself. It was simpler, easier.

  I was an artist, a sculptor of wood, and that was the only thing that truly consumed me. I didn’t give a fuck about much else.

  I stepped outside my secluded, rustic cabin, ready to get back to work after having a sandwich and a beer. As I stretched to loosen up, I noticed that the flat gray clouds were settled on the mountain peaks this afternoon. They edged the snow line like watercolor bleeding on a canvas, while the snow down at my altitude melted a lot quicker in the spring than it did on those soaring mountain peaks. There were rivulets running along the pine-strewn forest floor. It was wet and calm, warm for early spring, but there was a chill just behind that warmth.

  Perfect day for carving.

  Nothing else mattered when I was absorbed with creating something new, and then perfecting it until I was satisfied.

  Wood carving had always had a reputation of being a calm, sedate, relaxing craft. But that relaxing shit had never worked for me.

  I made wood sculptures; wide, heavy, and solidly there. I liked my pieces to impose on the spaces they inhabited. I liked them tall, curvaceous, and intimidating.

  I put everything I had into my pieces, and I put my whole body into the art. I worked fast and furiously, totally consumed by my projects, working on them like a frenzied madman.

  There was no other way to do it. Not for me.

  Once I started carving, and the shape and meaning came to me inside the wood, I’d chase that shape like a wolf after an elk. I’d lose all thoughts of the real world, time, and place.

  At one time, I’d been what I’d considered a mediocre painter. But not anymore. I’d found what I was meant to do. After years of painting flat, one-dimensional pieces, of making the materials into art, I now found the art in the materials. Creating my sculptures that way made me forget everything.

  How I’d gotten here.

  Why I’d come.

  Why it was necessary for me to be completely alone in the wilderness.

  “Shit!” I grumbled, realizing that I’d been contemplating my circumstances way more than usual.

  Time to get back to work!

  I shook myself out of my morose state of mind, walked out back, and concentrated on my half-finished carving.

  I was lost in the steady scrape and scratch of the chisel against the wood when I heard a shuffle in the forest behind me.

  Probably a deer that thinks I’m no threat. The herds liked to snack on the red clover that had just come up after a long winter.

  I paused to wipe the sweat from my brow. It wasn’t unusual for me to get overheated when I worked for any length of time, so I peeled off the flannel shirt I was wearing.

  The shuffling started again behind me, growing louder, closer, and then it abruptly…stopped.

  Definitely not a deer.

  Bambi didn’t have that heavy of a step.

  It sounded more like a lumbering bear.

  I didn’t turn around. If it was a bear, we had an unspoken agreement already. I didn’t mess with them, and they didn’t bother me. They were black bears and didn’t want to be around humans any more than I wanted to be around them. I usually just ignored them, rather than pissing them off.

  Could be a hiker.

  It was rare for any hiker to get up my way, so damn far from Aspen. A few times, I’d spotted backcountry hikers, but those people were on their own spiritual journey. They didn’t want to be around people any more than I wanted to be around them.

  The intruder finally gained my attention when I heard a very feminine voice curse. “Fuck this.”

  Yep. Definitely not a bear.

  It was something worse. A fucking tourist. A very lost tourist if she’s gotten this far off the beaten path.

  What in the hell is she doing here?

  I knew I still shouldn’t turn around. That would make it look like I had some kind of interest in her—which I didn’t. The woman could just use her damn cell phone to contact the rangers. They could sort her out. It wasn’t my job to help stranded tourists who were idiotic enough not to bring a good map.

  What kind of tourist veers off their path this far?

  Finally, I did reluctantly turn around because the curiosity was killing me. I had to know what type of woman got herself lost in this wilderness.

  Whatever the reason for not just minding my own business, I found myself looking right at her after I’d spun around.

  Holy hell! She was nothing like any tourist I expected to see.

  She was still thirty or so feet from the cabin, holding up a creased map in front of her face. All I could really see, other than her bright blue fingernails, was her body and…it was a sight that got me hard almost instantly.

  Shit! I really need to get laid.

  Even in a thick, down bomber jacket, her curves were very visible—the arc of her hips, the slope of her thighs. I used my imagination for the rest. Being alone, I’d gotten pretty good at being creative with fantasies.

  I watched as she folded the map shut, and warm brown eyes suddenly stared back at me.

  Holy fuck!

  She was…beautiful. A hell of a lot more attractive than my imagination could have conjured up. The woman was obviously from a warmer climate because she had sun-kissed, tanned skin like honey, cocoa colored hair that curled just under her chin, and sweet, full lips that pouted so decadently that I wanted to groan in frustration.

  The woman made me think of all the rich desserts I hadn’t indulged in for a
very long time.

  Sweet, but dangerous if a guy were to overindulge.

  She blinked a couple of times, making herself look like a spooked deer.

  I shook my head a little, wondering if all of my solitude was making me start to fucking hallucinate.

  Beautiful women just did not walk up to my cabin. They didn’t come here at all.

  Yeah, there were some female art dealers I connected with when I went to Aspen, and I’d taken advantage of their curiosity about the wildness man who preferred to create his art far from civilization. A guy had to get laid occasionally instead of getting himself off—which I did most of the time. I’d taken some of those female acquaintances to bed, but that only happened in town. Usually in a decent hotel. Whatever I did with those women, with my body, it was really nothing except a brief physical release.

  None of them had ever wanted anything beyond one night, and neither had I.

  What woman would want to hang out for very long with a freak who lives in this kind of isolation?

  I was surprised when the woman who had invaded my privacy kept staring at me. We were kind of like two wild animals sizing each other up, trying to decide who eats whom. I’d happily play the predator if it meant running her off, sending her to wherever she was going.

  I don’t want her here.

  She might be one of the sexiest females I’d seen in a very long time, maybe ever. But that didn’t mean I wanted her to hang around.

  “You lost?” I called loudly. My voice echoed, bouncing off the trees, and I put down the chisel I was holding.

  Her eyes narrowed, looking at me like I was some kind of idiot. Granted, asking her if she was lost was probably a dumb question. Of course she was lost, but I wasn’t really asking to know, just to confirm.

  She looked at the woods around us and she sighed so loudly that I could hear it, even from a distance. “Nope. I’m not lost, actually.”

  I glanced at the crumpled map in her fists and then back to her face. “You sure?” I asked with a frown.

  As she moved a little closer, I could see her nostrils flare in agitation as she answered, “Just out for a hike,” she said casually. Too casually.

  I found myself getting annoyed and impatient, which didn’t happen very often.

  “This isn’t even a trail. This is backcountry.” I had no clue why I was even talking —she had given me an out and I should have taken it. I could have very easily just shrugged and turned my back on her. I could have been back to work by now. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

  She bit at that full bottom lip. I was pretty sure that the twinge I felt while I watched her nibble at that plump, sensual lip had been instinctual, something deep and carnal. I was almost tempted to guide her back to wherever she was staying, find the cabin she’d strayed from and… fucking stay for a while. At least long enough to find out if she tasted as good as she looked.

  Almost tempted.

  But not quite.

  Women like her are nothing but trouble, and no matter how badly I want to fuck her, I avoid trouble in any form. Even a form as sexy as hers.

  She didn’t respond to me. She just reopened her map and scanned it, her eyes worried, even if her comments hadn’t revealed a thing.

  I released a beleaguered sigh. I supposed that I could at least point out where she should be. Then she’d be on her way. Far away from me. I didn’t exactly have neighbors, so she had to be pretty far off-track.

  “You don’t have a cell phone?” I asked in a disgruntled tone.

  “Have one. No signal,” she answered without looking up from her map.

  Shit! Cell phone coverage was spotty in this area, which was one of the reasons I didn’t bother having one myself.

  I pointed toward a downward slope. “There’s a trail down there, and a ranger outpost two miles on. You’ll run right into it.” I motioned across the valley where it lowered in elevation and was thick with dark trees and boulders. “If no one’s there, and they’re probably not, there’s a call box you can use. You can keep checking your cell phone signal along the way. It might start working as you get down to a lower altitude and that will save you the hike.”

  She took a deep breath and nodded. Her brow furrowed, and her mouth was tightly set—resolute now that she had a direction to follow.

  Stubborn, just like I thought. Which added up to…trouble. Also… just like I thought.

  She started toward the slant of the hill before I could say anything else.

  Hell, she has all the information she needs, really.

  It wouldn’t take her long to get farther down the incline, and over a ridge of short, sharp hills. Then she’d hit the path that would lead her to a trailhead and ranger station. It was a hike, but she had already gotten this far. Although I had no idea how she’d wandered so far off the path, she was certainly capable of finding a ranger station if she’d made it to my cabin.

  I went back to my carving. I knew I’d be thinking about her later, when I was alone. But for now, I’d let the lascivious images I had about her fade away. I had no other choice.

  “Thank you!” she called from a distance.

  I glanced back over my shoulder. She was walking backward toward the trail, her map stuffed under her arm.

  She waved and smiled. And something inside me twisted just a little.

  Don’t thank me. I’m an asshole.

  Hell, I hadn’t even offered her a ride. But if she was a smart woman, she wouldn’t have gotten into a truck with a guy she didn’t know out in the middle of nowhere, anyway.

  I turned around again, slightly disgusted with myself. A good person—hell, a normal person—would go after her. Follow her. Help her. These trails weren’t easy once a person went off the main path, and she was lost as it was.

  But then, I wasn’t a good person, and I hadn’t been for a long time.

  I turned my head to look back at her again, rethinking the way I’d handled the whole encounter, wondering if I should have done something different. I had no goddamn idea why I felt some kind of weird compulsion to make sure the woman was safe.

  “Fuck!” I cursed as I craned my neck harder to look behind me.

  The woman was already gone.

  Chapter Two

  Keeley

  I’d been camping exactly one time in my entire life.

  I’d been in college, and I’d made a trip to the California desert with some friends.

  I’d been cold, bored, and unable to sleep the whole time.

  Rocks under my back.

  Creepy noises everywhere.

  Freezing, even though I was in a sleeping bag.

  I’d hated it.

  But this trip wasn’t supposed to be about normal camping. It was supposed to be about a stunning, Instagram-worthy cabin, all clean lines and glass and comfort, nestled in nature outside Aspen. Surrounded by tall pines and…silence. Complete and utter…silence.

  I’d just gotten here last night, and I had been so restless this morning, so not enjoying the peace and quiet, that I’d gone for a walk.

  Just a walk.

  A short stroll.

  Not a hike.

  But I’d gotten so completely distracted that I’d ended up miles from my rental. Maybe I had known that I should have been paying attention, but I’d been too busy thinking about my life. Which was something I normally didn’t do because I was far too busy to think about it.

  Yasmin did this to me. She talked me into this.

  Granted, my friend and co-worker had chosen Central America for her “finding herself” retreat. But were the mountains that different from a retreat in the jungle?

  Yep. I was pretty sure that they were…now.

  Becoming one with nature. This trip was supposed to be that. However, I was starting to think it was far more therapeutic to try to find myself in a flatter, warmer atmosphere.

  “Instead, I’m miserable and lost. I knew this was a bad idea,” I grumbled as I kept tramping through the mountains. />
  I shouldn’t have let myself lose sight of my rental place.

  To be honest, the place I’d rented, although beautiful, had scared the hell out of me. I was a city girl. I worked in Hollywood for God’s sake. I could find my way around in a concrete jungle, but apparently I sucked in the backwoods.

  Plus, I definitely wasn’t good with silence.

  I wasn’t okay with being still when all I ever did was chase my own tail in Los Angeles.

  I was a production manager in films, and my duties were endless. I made sure things went off without a hitch. Smoothly, and without any drama so we could stay on schedule and on budget.

  I was always in motion.

  I had no idea how to be still and quiet.

  Actually, just the thought of being alone with all that silence scared the hell out of me.

  Which was exactly why I was in this predicament in the first place.

  I took a deep breath and let it out. No time for whining. I need to find my way out of here.

  And then, I needed to hightail it back to the city where I belonged.

  While I’d been lost in the woods, I’d had to contemplate what kind of desperation I’d felt to be out here at all.

  At this point, I was afraid I’d be worse off here than I’d been on that miserable college trip.

  At least I hadn’t been completely alone when I’d had a highly uncomfortable night desert camping years ago.

  I had a compass, and a map, and could use both reasonably well—at least I’d thought that I could. Not that I had much experience, but it had seemed easy enough at home.

  I slapped aside a tree branch in frustration. Dammit! I was an intelligent woman.

  So how had I ended up with no clue where I was going? The tall pine trees all kind of looked the same. The rocks and boulders, too.

  If that jerk at the cabin gave me bad directions, I swear I’m going to kick his ass.

  Well, I would kick his ass…as long as I can find my way back to his place to do it.

  “Damn!” My sore feet stepped on loose rocks and sent me skidding. “This place sucks.”