Her Mountain Man

by Cindi Myers

  “In one week.” Jennifer laughed, a sloppy chuckle. “Your grandfather was furious. But I was too much in love to care.”

  “What was it about Dad that attracted you so much?” Sierra asked.

  “He had a great sense of humor. He made me laugh. And he was confident. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with his life. That kind of confidence is incredibly sexy.”

  Paul had that kind of confidence. Her mom was right—it was very sexy.

  “And he was really strong,” Jennifer said. “Not just physically, but mentally. Strong enough to stand up to my father, which no one ever did. I thought he was strong enough to protect me forever.”

  Protect you from what? Sierra wanted to ask, but Jennifer was crying now and Sierra felt bad about upsetting her. “It’s okay, Mom,” she said. “You should take it easy. Watch a little TV and go to bed.” Don’t drink so much. But mentioning the drinking only made her mother angry and inclined to drink that much more. “Good night, Mom,” she said.

  “Good night, darling. Come home soon. Stay away from that man. Mountain climbers are no good. He’ll only leave you to climb some damn mountain. It’s a sickness, and you can’t cure it, no matter how hard you try.”

  “I know, Mom. I’ll be okay, I promise.” She hung up and tucked the phone away once more. She hadn’t gotten around to asking her mother for the information for her article; she’d look later on the Internet. This meant that whatever she wrote, it would only be external facts, not the emotions behind the events. She’d never be able to show how in dying on that mountain, her father had not only destroyed himself, but the once vivacious young woman who had married him so impulsively and followed him for years. Jennifer had found the strength to leave Victor, but she’d never stopped loving him; even now, she wasn’t able to let go.

  The thought of losing herself to another person that way terrified Sierra, and made her angry. Paul was not her father, though he shared many of his better qualities—strength and humor and the ability to make others care about his own passions. But he also suffered from an obsession with mountains—that sickness, as her mother called it.

  That sickness was why Sierra was here in Ouray, she reminded herself. And it was surely enough to keep her immune to Paul’s charms.

  She shut down the laptop and checked the clock—barely eight. She could turn on the television and watch a bad sitcom, or try to focus on the novel she’d brought with her.

  Or she could find The Outlaw Saloon and face Paul—and her fears.

  THE OUTLAW WAS PACKED with people of all ages—mostly locals, with a few tourists mixed in. As Paul worked his way through the crush, he was greeted by many familiar faces. “Hey, Paul, great to see you!” “Paul! Glad you could make it.” “You owe me a dance, Paul.” This last from a cute blonde named Charla who worked the front desk of the Beaumont Hotel.

  Paul nodded and waved and kept working his way toward the edge of the dance floor, where Josh had staked out a table. “I knew you’d be here,” Josh said as Paul pulled out a chair. Two other climbing buddies and their girlfriends shared the table. Paul greeted them all and ordered a beer from a passing waitress.

  “You didn’t bring Sierra with you?” Josh asked.

  “She said she had too much work to do.”

  “Work?” Josh looked disgusted. “That’s a pretty lame excuse.”

  “She takes her job seriously.” He felt the need to defend Sierra. Yes, she could be a little standoffish, but underneath that big-city aloofness was a sensitive, caring woman. One he wished was with him tonight.

  The band took the stage and people poured onto the dance floor. Charla made her way over to Paul and grabbed his hand. “Let’s dance,” she said.

  “Sure.” He led Charla onto the dance floor and into a quick two-step. She was cute and fun, the music was good and there was no reason he shouldn’t have a good time tonight and forget all about Sierra Winston.

  The song ended and he started to lead Charla back to his table when he glimpsed a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye and froze.

  Sierra stood on the edge of the room, scanning the crowd. Was she looking for him?

  He spotted Josh with two other men near the edge of the stage. He led Charla to them. “Josh, you know Charla, don’t you?” he said.

  Josh grinned at the petite blonde. “I’ve seen you around,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

  “I have to, uh, see someone about something,” Paul said, giving Josh a significant look. Bail me out here, buddy, the look said.

  “Charla and I will be just fine,” Josh said. He put a hand on Charla’s shoulder. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  She glanced at Paul, who was already backing away, then turned the full force of her smile on Josh. “I’d love one,” she said, and settled into the chair beside him.

  Paul found Sierra in the same spot, still searching the crowd. She wore jeans and a sapphire-blue top made of a silky fabric that clung to her curves, sleeveless to show off her slender arms. “I’m glad you changed your mind about coming here,” he said, slipping up beside her.

  She flushed. “I decided it would round out my article to show you doing something besides climbing and hiking.” Would it also help her to see him as more than just an assignment?

  He suddenly wished they were anywhere but this crowded club. The loud music made extended conversation impossible, and the crush of people around them erased any possibility of time alone. The best he could hope for was to hold her in his arms on the dance floor. “Would you like to dance?” he asked.

  “I would.”

  They threaded their way to the dance floor, her hand in his, and joined the shuffling, twirling, swaying couples. He spotted Josh and Charla and breathed a sigh of relief. She was laughing at something Josh had said, too engaged to notice Paul and Sierra.

  They had been dancing only a few seconds when the lively rocker segued into a slower number. Paul pulled Sierra closer. She didn’t protest, merely settled against him. “You’re a good dancer,” she said.

  “Thanks. I took lessons when I was in high school.”

  “Really? I didn’t think dance was very popular with teenage boys.”

  “After I finished the treatments for cancer, I was pretty skinny and weak. My mom thought dancing would be a good way to build up my strength, while improving my social skills at the same time.”

  “And did it?”

  “It’s a decent way to get in shape. But Mom didn’t realize that teenage boys in dance classes are as rare as hen’s teeth. My only partners were women old enough to be my mother—or grandmother.”

  She laughed. “Then why did you stick with it?”

  “I didn’t want to hurt my mom’s feelings.” She’d aged ten years during his illness and still seemed so fragile. “Besides, I like to dance.” To emphasize the point, he led her in a twirl, followed by a dip.

  She faltered only a little, then was back in his arms, eyes shining. “Did you take lessons, too?” he asked.

  “No. Which explains why I’m not very good.”

  “You’re doing great.” He settled his hand more firmly on her hip and pressed even closer. He wanted to know everything about her—what she did and what she felt and what she hoped for. “Where did you live growing up?” he asked. “I know Victor started in California—did you spend most of your childhood there?”

  She nodded. “Until my parents split up when I was ten. Then my mother and I went to live with her parents in New Jersey.”

  “That must have been a culture shock.”

  “It was. I’d grown up in relatively small towns in the mountains and suddenly we were in a suburb of Princeton. Everything looked different, sounded different, tasted different.”

  “I was twelve when we moved from Dallas to Houston,” he said. “It wasn’t as big a change, but it was hard being the new kid, leaving all my friends behind.” In and out of the hospital for treatments, he hadn’t had much opportunity to make new friends, which was
maybe one more reason he’d fixated on Victor Winston and mountain climbing.

  “Did you miss your father?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Terribly. For a while, I blamed my mother for leaving him, but she kept insisting that he was the one who’d left us—that he’d chosen his precious mountains over us. After a while—when he called and visited less and less—I saw that was true.”

  Paul sensed the anguish behind those words. Anger at Victor made him clench his jaw. It was one thing not to answer a letter from a boy he didn’t know, but how could the man have treated his own daughter this way?

  “My grandparents didn’t help matters,” Sierra continued. “They’d never wanted my mother to marry my father in the first place. Now they were angry that he’d hurt her, and they didn’t censor their feelings around me.”

  “Maybe that was why your father didn’t visit much—because he wasn’t welcome.”

  “I was still his daughter. Their attitude shouldn’t have made a difference if he wanted to see me.”

  “You’re right. It shouldn’t have.” Paul wouldn’t have let others’ disappointment keep him away from the people he loved, but maybe Victor was a weaker man than Paul thought.

  The song ended and she moved out of his arms. “Let’s sit down for a minute,” she said.

  PAUL DIDN’T FEEL comfortable returning to the table where Charla now sat with Josh, so he looked for a vacant seat. He spotted two empty chairs at a table with Kelly and her boyfriend, Keith.

  “Are these seats taken?” he asked.

  “Hey, Paul! Sierra!” Kelly jumped up. “Keith, you remember Paul, don’t you? And this is Sierra Winston. She’s the reporter from New York I was telling you about. This is Keith MacIntyre, from Telluride.”

  Keith stood and shook hands. Tall and angular, he was older than the others at the table, maybe late thirties. With his neatly trimmed goatee, manicured hands and crisply pressed shirt, he looked like someone who would be right at home with Telluride’s moneyed celebrities, yet there was nothing snobby about him. He had a salesman’s firm handshake and warm smile, but didn’t come across as phony. “Nice to meet you,” he said, and nodded to Sierra.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” she said. Paul held a chair for her, and she turned to him. “I need to excuse myself to visit the ladies’ room,” she said.

  “I’ll come with you,” Kelly said.

  Paul watched the two women until they were swallowed up by the crowd.

  Love. Was that what Paul was feeling for Sierra—this dreamlike sensation that had him feeling so uncertain and off-kilter lately?

  “SO, WHAT DO YOU THINK of Keith?” Kelly asked as she and Sierra touched up their makeup before the mirror in the ladies’ room.

  “Oh, um, he seems very nice.” What could she say about a man she’d seen all of thirty seconds?

  “He’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever met.” Kelly smiled at her reflection.

  Sierra stared at her younger friend. Kelly seemed different tonight—softer. Her black tank top, tight black jeans and stiletto heels were on the cutting edge of fashion, as were her bright red lips and nails. She looked like the same ambitious, driven woman Sierra had connected with her first night in town. But the edgy restlessness Sierra had recognized before was missing tonight, replaced by a dreamy-eyed wistfulness. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Did something special happen tonight?”

  “Is it that obvious?” Kelly turned to her, smiling. “Keith told me he loved me. He said it right out loud, without me saying it first. Can you believe it?”

  “That’s wonderful.” Everyone wanted to be loved, right? But could such a simple declaration account for Kelly’s transformation? “Did anything else happen?” Sierra asked.

  “Isn’t that enough? I never had a guy say he loved me before—well, not when he really meant it. Not when I hadn’t said it first.”

  Sierra wouldn’t have thought Kelly was the kind of woman who gave her heart away easily, but then, how well did she really know the girl? Maybe Sierra was only projecting her own personality onto Kelly because of the supposed connection she’d felt between them.

  She realized Kelly was still looking at her, as if expecting a reply. “Congratulations,” Sierra said. “I’m really happy for you.” Maybe even a little envious. After years of dating, Sierra was beginning to think she was impervious to love. Would she even recognize the feeling when it came along? “Does this change your plans to move to New York?” she asked.

  “Change my plans?” Kelly’s eyes widened. “I’ve wanted to move to New York for years. Why would I change my mind now?”

  “I thought you might have decided to stay here with Keith.”

  Kelly shook her head, her hair swinging from side to side with the force of the movement. “He would never ask me to do that. I can’t give up my dream for a man. You wouldn’t do something like that, would you?”

  “Of course not.” No man was worth changing her whole life for. But what did she really know? She’d never been in the position to have to choose.

  “Keith understands why I need to leave,” Kelly said. “He’d never try to hold me back.” Her expression grew dreamy once more. “Yet he loves me anyway, even though he knows I’m leaving. Isn’t that the most romantic thing you ever heard of?”

  Romantic—or foolish? Sierra doubted the strength of Keith’s love if he was so willing to let Kelly abandon him for the sake of untested ambition.

  Then again, maybe the answer wasn’t that Keith’s love wasn’t strong enough, but that Kelly’s dreams were stronger. That kind of drive had taken Sierra’s father away from his family, but it had also taken Sierra to New York and the top of her profession.

  “I’m sure I’ll miss him when I leave,” Kelly said. “But he can come visit me. Maybe we’ll have a long-distance romance. That could be exciting.”

  More frustrating than exciting, Sierra thought. “Do you think you’ll miss Ouray?” she asked.

  Kelly shrugged. “Do you miss where you grew up?”

  “No. Manhattan is my home now.” She had a job she loved, a nice apartment and good friends. Maybe that wasn’t enough for some people—for them, home meant family, but Sierra told herself she couldn’t miss what she didn’t really have.

  Her father had cut his ties with his family. Had he done so to free himself to conquer whichever mountain next claimed his attention, without having to consider the feelings of those left behind?

  Did Paul feel that way? He didn’t have a girlfriend, and her research had turned up no hint that he’d ever come close to marrying or even living with someone. Did he avoid such entanglements in order to remain free to pursue the kind of fame her father had achieved?

  In the end, fame hadn’t saved her father from dying alone, and had only added to Sierra and her mother’s suffering. Maybe Paul was smart to avoid dragging other people along with him on his journey. Maybe he was, as he’d said, “content in his own skin.”

  But it sounded terribly lonely to Sierra. As lonely as her own life was beginning to feel.

  “I’m telling myself to just enjoy the moment and not worry too much about the future,” Kelly said. “I’m going to move to New York to be an actress and Keith knows and accepts that. We’ll enjoy each other while we can and not think about the rest.”

  “I guess that’s a good way to handle it,” Sierra said. Her father had once sworn in an interview that the best way to survive a grueling high-altitude climb was to avoid thinking past the next step. Maybe the same approach applied to relationships.

  “Speaking of romance, you and Paul looked pretty cozy on the dance floor,” Kelly said.

  Cozy was a good word for it. Safe in his arms. Not that she needed to be protected from anything, but the idea of having someone there for her if she needed him was comforting. “He’s a good dancer.”

  “He is that.” Kelly stashed her makeup bag in her purse. “Come on. They’re going to think we fell in.”

  They returned to th
eir table, and Sierra studied Keith. He didn’t look like her idea of a sugar daddy. And he was obviously besotted with Kelly. Besotted enough to let her leave? Or did he think that if he let her go, she’d come back? It was a nice sentiment, but Sierra doubted it worked in real life. Her mother had let her father go and he stayed gone. Then she left him and he never tried to get her back.

  In spite of all this, Sierra was sure her parents had loved each other. Love was supposed to be such a positive emotion, but it also had the power to make people so sad. As difficult as it was to be alone sometimes, Sierra thought loneliness was preferable to heartbreak. She’d avoided that hazard so far by always choosing men she could be friends with, like Mark. No fiery breakups for her, no agonizing heartaches.

  She glanced at Paul, who was laughing at something Kelly had said. Their eyes met, and she felt a sharp pull deep in her chest. It wasn’t a painful feeling exactly, but she sensed it had the potential to hurt, if she let him get any closer.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  PAUL MOVED HIS CHAIR closer to Sierra. He’d noticed that she’d been staring at him. At first, he’d thought he had something in his hair, or that she wanted to ask him something. But this look had been different, almost…tender. The same way he often felt about her—he wanted to make up for the hurt she’d suffered and to protect her from further injury. And if he couldn’t stand between her and all the injuries the world could wreak, he at least wanted to stand beside her. It was a crazy idea, considering how hard he’d worked to remain independent, but the more time he spent with Sierra, the more he liked the thought of the two of them as a couple.

  The band began a lively number and Kelly jumped up and tugged at Keith’s hand. “I love this song,” she said. “We have to dance.”

  “Do you want to dance?” Paul asked Sierra.

  She shook her head. “Let’s just talk.”

  “All right. What would you like to talk about?”