Hungry Mountain Man

by Charlize Starr

  I don’t think Calvin ever called her again after we broke up. I heard from mutual friends she was devastated, but I couldn’t bring myself to care all that much. I thought about reaching out to her a few times over the years, but I knew I’d never been able to look at her the same way.

  The last thing I want is for Calvin to ruin my relationship with Mia. He’s not even here, and yet the shadow of him is still hanging over everything. I want this to work, somehow, in spite of Calvin and everything about this whole situation. I want Mia, and I want her all to myself for once.

  I call her early, even though I know she might still be at work. She answers right away.

  “Hello there, handsome,” she says. “Couldn’t wait until later to talk to me?”

  “Maybe not,” I say, grinning. One of the best things about Mia, I think, is how bold and flirtatious she is, how direct and honest. I’ve had enough secrets and lies and resentment in my life. It’s refreshing to talk to someone who doesn’t hold anything back.

  “Good,” she says, “because I’ve been thinking a lot about last night.”

  “Me too,” I admit. That little sound she’d made while she was touching herself playing in my head again and making me shift in my seat. “Are you at home?”

  “I just got home,” Mia says. “Martin actually sent me home early. I’ve already worked way over my scheduled time this week.”

  “You’re quite dedicated,” I say.

  “I can be,” she says, laughing.

  We settle into a comfortable conversation, maybe a little less intense than last night, but still great. She tells me a story about a dog she’d had growing up, and I talk about the dog I had right after college – the one I’d gotten after Fiona left so I wasn’t all alone in the apartment. I don’t mention the Fiona part or the Calvin part, but I tell her to rest. We talk until she falls asleep over the phone and I can hear the soft sound of her breathing, making me wish she was here next to me so I could wrap a blanket around her and hold her while she slept. I hope that’s something I can figure out a way to make real, and soon.

  Chapter Eleven - Mia

  I can’t get Jacob’s voice out of my head. He’d sounded so passionate, so commanding over the phone, telling me all the things he’d want to do if he had his hands on me. It had somehow been one of the sexiest things I’d ever done, even though we hadn’t even been in the same room when it had happened. I keep replaying it in my head: the things had he said, the way his voice had sounded when he said them, the low growl of confidence in his voice that was so different from his usual awkward charm.

  Ever since Jacob and I cleared up our initial misunderstanding, all of our conversations have been flirtatious and fun and just the right amount of romantic. He seems to be having fun too, enjoying this just as much as I am… which is why I can’t figure out why he doesn’t want it to move any farther. I’ve suggested we meet up, but he always changes the subject. I’d certainly think that after the other night he’d be eager to see me, but he won’t plan for it.

  I can’t figure out why. All sorts of ideas have danced around in my head about it – everything from he’s lying and really is secretly married to he has some sort of physical deformity and he doesn’t want me to see under his clothes. Maybe he’s a conman, on the run from the law. Maybe he’s worried I’m an undercover cop, ready to bust him. Maybe he’s got an embarrassing secret, like that behind his rugged mountain-man exterior, he’s actually a virgin.

  Maybe that’s it, I tell myself to get my mind off the other thoughts. Maybe he’s too shy to tell me this is the most he’s ever done with a woman, that he’s spent so much time alone in his cabin up on the mountain, chopping firewood and making whiskey, because he’s afraid he won’t have the right romantic touch when the right girl comes along. Maybe I’m corrupting him. I actually don’t mind the sound of that – of bringing a reclusive man out of the shadows and teaching him about love. It sounds so exciting, like something out of one of those romance novels my mom used to read, that I stick with it as my theory, even though I don’t actually think it’s true.

  I don’t actually think any of them are very likely, but it must be something. I worry, when I’m not imagining scenarios where Jacob is an outlaw, that it’s not him at all. That’s it’s me. That he’s somehow embarrassed by me, or just not that attracted to me beyond considering me something to pass the time up in his cabin. He doesn’t act like that’s the case, but I suppose I can’t rule it out.

  I frown, spraying down the glass counters at work while I to figure out both Jacob and where this relationship is going. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, surprised to see I’ve missed a call from Jacob. I hit play on the voicemail and –

  And I immediately flush red, glad there are no customers in the store.

  “I keep thinking about those sounds you made when you came for me. I can’t wait to hear them again. Maybe this time you could make them under my tongue. I could lick you until you came over and over until you were shaking for me.”

  I put Jenny, one of our high school part-timers, in charge for a minute, telling her I need to step out back to make a personal call and listen to Jacob’s voicemail again, hardly believing he’d left me such a filthy message while knowing I was at work. I call him back, whispering even though I’m alone out behind the shop.

  “Jacob,” I say, a little breathless.

  “So, you got my message, then?” Jacob asks, sounding absurdly pleased with himself. “I thought it might make your afternoon more exciting.”

  “I’m at work!” I say, but I’m pleased and more than a little turned on by it all. By the message and by Jacob taking time out of his day for me, wanting to say those things to me.

  “That was the idea,” he says. “Are you on a break?”

  “Just for a minute,” I tell him, pouting a little about it. “I stepped out back.”

  “So, could you still be overheard?” Jacob asks as he’s prompting. “You’re still on the clock?”

  “Yes, why?” I ask.

  “Really,” he muses, and I flush at how low and dark his tone is. “So, if I were to tell you all about how I can’t get you off my mind today, how I keep thinking about running my hands up your thighs and spreading your legs, you’d have to just listen?” Jacob asks.

  I gasp a little and try to swallow it down. “I guess I would,” I say, feeling heat pool through me.

  “Good. What if I kept going?” Jacob asks, still so dark.

  “With your hands, or telling me about it?” I ask, trying to keep my voice low and my words ambiguous.

  “Telling you,” Jacob says, laughing. “For now, anyway.”

  “I’ve only got a few more minutes,” I say. It’s driving me absolutely crazy, not being able to tell Jacob how much I’d like that, how good that sounds. But someone could walk back here at any minute, so I have to pretend this is just a normal call.

  “I’ll work fast then,” Jacob says.

  “Please do,” I say, biting my lip.

  By the time I go back inside a few minutes later, I’m feeling wrecked and desperate, and I briefly consider calling off my shift early with the excuse of a personal emergency so I can run right home and do something about it and touch myself, or call him back and pick up where we left off. But I can’t do that to Martin and the shop, and besides, the more this goes on, the more I need to see Jacob in person if it’s going to continue. To know if we’re as good together in real life as we are over the phone.

  I’m distracted the rest of the day at my shift. I have so much trouble thinking about anything but Jacob’s words, even when Martin pulls me aside to talk to me about important things. He asks for my help designing the new shop fliers because of my advertising background, and I’m glad to accept. He also tells me he’s thinking about stepping back a little in the coming months and promoting me to management.

  It’s a lot of good news for one day, but somehow Jacob still feels like the best part.

  Ch
apter Twelve - Jacob

  Mia keeps asking to see me, and I don’t know what to do about it.

  She keeps mentioning that we should meet up, that she’d love to see me. I’d love to see her, too. Of course, I would. I’d love to be able to take her out. I’d love for her to stay in with me, in my bed. I want nothing more than to actually touch her. But I haven’t known how to want all those things and get them, considering the circumstances.

  In the past few days, we’ve taken our phone relationship to a new level, and it’s been the most fun I’ve had in a long time. It hasn’t been enough. I want more of Mia. I know she won’t wait forever to see me – she can’t and that it’s not fair of me to expect her to.

  I don’t want her to wait. I don’t want to wait. I don’t know how to have her here or go out anywhere with her, but I’m starting to think Mia is worth a little risk. I have an idea, and I’ve already been into town to pick up something to go with it.

  I call Mia. I’m sure she’s expecting me.

  “Hi!” she says brightly, sounding happy to hear from me.

  “Hey, Mia,” I say, smiling to myself. I’m not sure this is a good idea, but I’m certain I want to do it anyway. “How was your day?”

  “Pretty good, but, you know, I had the strangest calls at work today,” Mia says, her laughter followed by what sounds like the noise of a door shutting.

  “Did you?” I ask, laughing too. “Strange how?”

  “The good kind of strange,” Mia says, “definitely the good kind.”

  “Well that’s good,” I say, smirking. “I’d hate for you to have been bothered during your shift.”

  “Oh, but I was bothered,” Mia says, her voice low in a light, whispered sort of way that can’t help but make me think about her breath hot on my neck, about her spreading herself out on my bed. “But that was the good kind, too.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” I say. Every time I talk to Mia, I feel a little bit more comfortable but also a little bit more restless because I’m not physically with her.

  “You should be,” Mia says.

  “I was wondering,” I say, deciding to dive in.

  “Yes?” Mia asks.

  “The other night on the phone, it sounded like that radiator of yours was making some hissing sounds,” I say. It’s a line, and a terrible one, but there is no good way I can think of to just spontaneously invite myself to someone else’s house.

  “It does that sometimes,” Mia says, a cautious, questioning note in her voice.

  “I thought you might want me to come take a look at it?” I ask. Mia’s breath catches on the other end of the phone. “Maybe tomorrow?”

  “Oh! Yes. Yes, I’d like that.” She sounds pleased, and I’m relieved to hear that.

  “Good,” I say. I’m feeling pretty pleased with things too, honestly.

  “I can make dinner!” Mia says, “I get off at five-thirty, so you could come around seven?”

  “Sounds great,” I say. “I’ll bring tools.”

  “Right. For the radiator,” Mia says, laughing.

  “Of course,” I say. Truthfully, Mia’s radiator sounds like every other radiator I’ve ever heard in my life, and we both know it.

  “It’s a good thing you’re so handy,” Mia says. I can tell she’s still grinning.

  “It can have its uses,” I agree.

  I can’t get over the idea that I’m really going to see her tomorrow. That I’ll be at her house, kissing her and touching her. I want so much with Mia. I want this conversation. I want the date we have set for tomorrow. I want hundreds of more dates after that. I want to kiss her. I want to not just talk about it but do it. I want to have sex with her and to hold her in my arms afterward.

  I know meeting Mia might not be the safest plan. I know I shouldn’t be doing this right now – shouldn’t be falling for someone, but I don’t care. I want this thing with Mia to work. She’s absolutely worth the risk.

  Chapter Thirteen - Mia

  I clean my house from top to bottom before Jacob comes over. It’s not that it was ever messy or dirty. I’m a really clean person in general. Too much of a mess makes me feel stressed out, and I hate germs. But I want it to be extra sparkling when Jacob arrives. I put a casserole in the oven as soon as I get home from work. It’s an old recipe of my grandmother’s, and I’d put it together last night so I could just throw it in the oven today. The recipe said it was best left to sit overnight anyway, so I hope it turns out incredible. I’m hoping this whole night does.

  I put some chocolate from the shop in a bowl on my coffee table, a few flavors I know Jacob has said he likes and few of my favorites. I’m so glad he’s coming over. I’ve got this nervous sort of bubble in my chest about it, but mostly I’m just thrilled to see him again. I hope this means that from now on we can see each other for real. That we can date properly rather than doing our dance over the phone.

  Jacob shows up two minutes before seven, and the knock on my door sets my pulse racing. I open it and I almost gasp.

  Jacob is even more handsome than I’d remembered. His eyes are sparkling and his hair is thick around his handsome, sharp, face. His plaid shirt clings to his broad shoulders and strong arms. He looks like he stepped out of a magazine for the mountains, or maybe right out of my own fantasies.

  “Mia,” he says, pulling me into a tight hug. His arms around me feel wonderful. I could just stay in them forever. I can’t wait to kiss him, to be close to him.

  “So good to see you, Jacob,” I say, into his neck. He lets me go and smiles at me, bright across his striking features.

  “It smells amazing in here,” he says.

  “Thank you,” I say. I hope it tastes as good as it smells. Jacob steps back, looking around, and I notice a brown paper bag in his hand. “What’s that?” I ask. “Your tools?”

  “I brought you something,” Jacob says, eyes back on me, and then traveling over me like he’s taking me in. Like he can’t quite believe he’s here either.

  “A present?” I ask.

  “An apology,” Jacob says, handing the bag to me. I open it curiously and my eyes widen when I see what it is. It’s a pound bag of the coffee they make at the diner. The exact kind I was drinking when we met.

  “Coffee?” I ask, biting my lip.

  “I’ve been wanting to buy you a coffee to make up for that one that ended up on my shirt for weeks now. I thought, since it had been so long, I owed you a whole bag of them, not just a cup. It’s an apology with interest attached,” Jacob says. It’s maybe the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me – the most thoughtful gesture I could imagine right now.

  “You really didn’t have to do that,” I say, amazed that not only is he still thinking about that morning but that he’d paid enough attention to me, even then, to notice where my coffee was from.

  “I really did because I was an ass,” Jacob says, grinning at me. “No one should get yelled at their first day in town.”

  “Thank you,” I say, pulling him in for another quick hug. I don’t really want to let him go, but the oven timer goes off and we sit down to eat. I pull the casserole out and dish it out. It’s a little burnt on the bottom, but Jacob doesn’t seem to mind.

  “Thank you for dinner,” Jacob says, pulling apart his roll and taking a bite of the casserole.

  “I hope it’s okay. I’ve never been much of a cook,” I confess, “but it was my grandma’s recipe, so I thought it was worth a try.”

  “It’s the best thing I’ve eaten in a very long time,” Jacob says, holding my eyes and making my stomach catch a little. “Take that for whatever it’s worth, though, because I don’t get out to eat a lot these days.” I take a bite myself, and while I’m not sure I’d go as far as Jacob, it’s pretty okay, the burnt taste mostly covered in cheese. I’m proud of myself.

  “Grandma did know what she was doing,” I say, smiling.

  “Definitely,” he agrees. “I’m glad this family recipe isn’t a secret.”

  “
Tell me about your day?” I ask. “It seems strange to not talk to you until this late in the day.”

  “It does,” Jacob agrees.

  “But I’m glad you’re here,” I say.

  “Me too,” Jacob says, giving me another one those looks that make me feel liquid all over.

  We talk about our days over dinner, and I’m pleased when Jacob has a second helping, even if that feels silly. He tells me about some repairs he’s done, and I tell him it’s officially hot chocolate season at work. It’s strange I feel like I talk about work all the time and Jacob never does. I mean, he’s told me all about the family legend and lore, but never anything about the day-to-day of his work. I can tell it’s stressful for him, though, which is probably why he doesn’t go there, but I hope that soon he can trust me enough to open up to me about whatever’s causing him headaches there.

  After dinner, Jacob offers to do the dishes, catching me by surprise.

  “You cooked, so I can do these,” Jacob says, then he laughs at my expression. “I live alone, remember? I do my own dishes every day. I think I can handle it.”

  He’s right, of course. I just hadn’t been expecting it. Jacob is so different from most men I’ve known. He’s so independent, and he makes me feel like he wants to take care of me. It’s a nice feeling.

  “If you insist,” I say, bringing the plates and cups to Jacob. I wrap what’s left of the casserole in foil and set it in the fridge before sitting to watch Jacob work.

  “I thought you were here to fix my radiator, not do my dishes,” I say, teasing.