by Hazel Parker
Mount Me
Hazel Parker
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Preview of Her First, Her Boss
Author Bio
Mount Me © 2018 Hazel Parker
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Mount Me
Who doesn’t love themselves a hot mountain man romance?
Trevor Harrington was never expecting to find an injured stranger in his neck of the woods but as fate would have it... And now he finds himself aiding a gorgeous woman in his cabin while storm stayed.
Chapter 1
Trevor Harrington shuffled through the grocery store aisle, grabbing things on autopilot instead of actually scanning the labeled items. He didn’t need much. He shopped more out of habit than actual need these days. Sure, he lived alone, and he’d chosen to settle in the mountains instead of suburbia, but he was human. Sometimes he just needed human interaction.
He pushed his cart along the back wall of dairy products, debating if he wanted to buy milk this time or not. He didn’t need it. He wasn’t lactose intolerant or anything, but he hated being reliant on something that would go bad so quickly. In the end, he settled for a block of cheddar cheese.
He had eggs from the chickens he kept and a garden for vegetables and herbs, so his store visits mostly consisted of buying meat in bulk and items without nutritional value. There was just something about Doritos on a late night. He didn’t have any other vices. No cable. No phone. On rare occasions, he would take a shot of bourbon, but for the most part, he was upstanding. So he could allow a little unhealthy treats knowing the amount of miles he walked in a day and the number of trees he chopped would compensate.
He grabbed two bags of bread. Yes, he lived alone, but considering he limited his visits to town to once a month, he tried to stockpile his inventory as much as possible. Pounds of meat, staples like rice and beans, cleaning products, and dog food for Chuck.
He walked up the empty aisle back to the front, ready to check out. Chuck was waiting on him and the sooner he got home, the sooner he could let him out.
In the checkout line, he stacked his items without giving into the customary small talk with the woman in front of him. Maybe it was his personality or the fact that he was used to living alone, but he preferred silence. It was one thing to be around other people; it was another to actually talk to them.
Trevor used his time in town to stay up-to-date. Though he lived on the outskirts of the small town, he knew when a big storm was on the way, when someone got married, and when there was an upcoming event, like the circus. Not that he would ever attend such things. He merely liked to be informed. He even knew of all the scandals. He must have one of those faces because women loved telling him the best gossip on the rare times he sat in the café for coffee or lunch.
The line advanced quickly, and by the time all his items were on the belt, it was his turn.
The fresh-faced clerk—also possibly fresh out of high school—smiled at him. “It’s been a long time, Trev.”
“Yeah.”
It really had been. This was the longest stretch he’d gone without coming down from his self-built prison. But if she knew the reason why, she would understand. Not that he planned to tell her. He had no plans of telling anyone ever again.
“I was starting to think you were sick or something,” she said in between the annoying beeps of the scanner.
“Never that. I don’t get sick.”
She scoffed. “Everyone gets sick, Trev, and when you do, who’s going to take care of you? No one will even know since you live all alone up there.”
He suppressed a sigh. He already knew where this was going.
Without taking her eyes off of him, Tara continued scanning the items on the conveyor belt. “I know how to make a mean chicken soup. From scratch.”
She’d said that last bit as if the bonus information would render him unable to resist.
Tara had been working at the supermarket for some time and, since he had the tendency to buy his food all at the same time and usually at the end of the month, they ran into each other. If Trevor thought hard about it, he would have noticed that her shift seemed to mirror the times he came into the store exactly.
“Tara, I ain’t been sick since I was five, when I had the chicken pox.”
She shrugged. “Better safe than sorry, you know.”
With nothing to say to that, Trevor didn’t respond. She didn’t need to hear his thoughts on the matter—that it was better to be on your own than with someone who would leave you or, worse, let you down.
“Prepping for the storm?” she asked, undeterred by his silence. She was used to it.
“Yeah.”
“You think Chuck has enough food?”
He pointed at the extra-large bag of food in his cart to let her know she needed to scan it and to answer her question.
“Well, if you need more, you could take my number. I don’t mind running a few trips out of town.”
“Nah. I’m good. Thanks.”
Her lips puckered into a disappointed pout as she reached for the item, letting her blond hair fall into her face. She flung it over her shoulder with ease and pushed a few buttons on the register. “Well, give him an extra dog treat for me, would you?”
Trevor nodded as he pulled his wallet out. Chuck had accompanied him to town a few times. He was a good dog and had charmed many of the locals. When he wasn’t knocking shit over or having a fit because he couldn’t chase a bird, he was a great dog.
“That’ll be two hundred thirty-three dollars and forty-two cents.”
He didn’t think too much about it as he handed over his card. Considering he didn’t have many other expenses, he didn’t mind spending that kind of money when he came into town.
Tara yanked the receipt from the small printer and handed it over with a smile. “You have a great day, Trev.”
One corner of his mouth lifted as he shuffled forward with his cart through the exit. He glanced at the community announcement board, slowing just enough for his eyes to skim the posters.
Community parade, a barbecue celebrating something, and the word Missing over a woman’s photo. Her eyes took up most her face.
His feet stopped before he acknowledged that he was reading the information. Went missing late yesterday. Her friends were worried and offering a reward for any information on her whereabouts. Twenty-one-year-old Alissa Fontanne.
The crisp morning air invigorated him as he pushed his cart out of the grocery store and towards his car. He noted that th
e parking lot was fuller than it had been when he first came in. Which was good. He’d intentionally missed the morning crowd.
With his supplies in tow, he drove the ten miles back to his house in the mountains. Depending on the weather, the drive could take on an entirely different feel. In the winter, the tree branches loomed over the road with little icicles and clumped snow, like the beginning of a horror movie. In the summer, the street was covered with flower petals blown free and the truck was covered in powdery yellow pollen. In the spring, the view on both sides of the car was a sea of green, and autumn was a blanket of red hues with golden highlights and browns.
He appreciated the shifts of the mountain and never failed to notice it whenever he drove up the incline. Finally, he parked in front of his cabin. The stacked logs were a relief to see as he pulled his key out of the ignition.
The sun was still low in the sky, a little before noon, and he was ready to eat before he and Chuck went out to chop wood. He could hear the dog barking with excitement from inside.
“Chuck!”
The dog pressed his nose against the window and his wagging tail swished the curtain back and forth. He was a Bernese Mountain Dog, a beautiful beast.
“Okay. Okay. Hold your horses. I’m coming,” he said.
The bags crinkled as he looped them over his arms. This way, he only had to come back once for the dog food.
The dog left the window and scratched at the door, ready to pounce as soon as Trevor opened the door.
“Chuck, I swear, you better sit.”
The door opened and, though clearly excited judging by the thumping of his tail, Chuck stayed seated.
“Good boy.”
Chuck waited exactly thirty seconds for Trevor to pull all the bags from his arms before rubbing against his legs. His large body would have knocked Trevor down if he hadn’t been a big man himself. The dog sniffed at the counter and whined.
“It’s in the trunk. Jesus. Settle down.”
Chuck followed Trevor outside to the car, as if wanting to see for sure that the dog food was truly there. Seeing him heft the large bag of food into his arms, the dog jumped into the air.
Trevor chuckled while carrying it into the kitchen. The dog acted like he hadn’t been fed this morning.
“You big fatty. Come on,” he said, sliding the bag of food into the corner.
Chuck whimpered.
“I don’t want to hear you. Let’s go.”
He grabbed his ax and walked out the door. Chuck didn’t hesitate to follow.
The sky had turned into a dark gray on the ride home. A storm meant Trevor would be stuck inside the house longer than he wanted to be. He wanted to collect some extra wood just to be safe.
The dog ran ahead, instinct probably telling him he needed to run as much as he could while he had the chance.
Trevor marched past the shed and the metal gate where he kept chickens. Inside was a chicken coop, protected from the wildlife, and a safe place to lay eggs. He didn’t have to walk too far before he found the thick logs he’d left the last time he’d cut down a tree. There were four long, thick logs, waiting to be cut into short pieces that would go into the fireplace. He lost himself in the swing of his ax and the pull of his muscles in his arms.
Chuck, on the other hand, wandered around the area, sniffing at trees and chasing squirrels before woofing loudly. A moment later, he came back through the trees, barking like he was trying to get Trevor’s attention.
“We’ll go home in a sec, bud.”
The dog rushed towards Trevor, nipping at his ankles before running a little ways away. He looked back at him as if struggling to understand why his human wasn’t following.
“Chuck, I’m not done.”
He growled low in his throat, as if growing frustrated.
Trevor glanced up. The looming darkness made it clear that no matter what the dog wanted, it was best to stop chopping wood now.
Chuck ran forward, glancing back occasionally to make sure Trevor was following before stopping at a small underbrush.
“What the—”
His words died on his tongue as Chuck circled a body.
The girl he’d seen earlier on the flyer lay supine on the ground. Dried blood was crusted on her forehead and, despite the faint tinge of blue on her lips, her chest rose and fell, letting him know she was still alive.
He brushed the bit of leaves from her pale face and looked over her still form. Her dark-brown hair was a little matted and twigs were stuck in the strands.
“Hello? Alissa,” he said, remembering her name. “Can you hear me?
No response.
A loud crack of thunder made him glance up. Beside him, Chuck whined as if rushing him. The dog didn’t like storms. To be quite frank, neither did he, though for very different reasons.
The clouds were getting darker by the second. He didn’t have long before the sky would open up. He didn’t have a cellphone, so calling 911 wasn’t an option.
The small stack of wood in his arms was tossed to the side. He had enough wood in the shed anyway. He’d only come out to chop more because he’d wanted to spend time outside before the storm hit.
He bent over to collect her body. He wasn’t sure what injuries she might have incurred, but he knew enough to know he had to keep her neck and back stabilized.
The blue of her lips was concerning. Even though summer was coming to a close, the nights could be pretty cold and she’d been lost for a full day now. Who knew how far she’d traveled or how she’d managed to even get to this place.
He tightened his hold, pressing her more closely against his chest, and headed back to his cabin. God. He hoped she was okay.
Chapter 2
The rain poured down with a roar, the sound disrupted only by the loud boom of thunder and Trevor’s chattering teeth. He held Alissa close to his chest like a baby, worrying about this woman he didn’t know. Icy rain had already pounded his skin. If he was cold, he knew she had to be too. Eyeing the clothes that clung to her pale body, he made a mental note to get her warm as soon as possible. He was hesitant to run for fear of hurting her, so he walked with long strides until, finally, they were in the safety of his home. He kicked the door closed without looking and sighed.
Even in the comfort of his cabin, he could hear the early tinkering sounds of hail. This storm would be one for the books.
He laid Alissa down on the couch and peeked out the front window. The early signs of the road in front of the house being washed away were clear. Not sure what exactly was kosher at this moment, he threw a blanket over her instead of stripping her down. He went to the kitchen and started boiling water just as the electricity flickered and went out. It only took a few seconds before his generator kicked in and the oven eye was hot again. He didn’t know if Alissa would wake. Worse, he had no idea what to do if she didn’t. Still, he was glad he had found her when he did. Well, technically Chuck had found her.
“Ow,” came a grumble from the living room.
Trevor looked over the couch to see her flinching when she tried to move.
“Ow.” Her hands flew to her temples. “My head hurts.”
He was in front of her in two strides, ready to help. He spoke in clear, confident tones in order to sound like he knew what he was doing. “Hey, Alissa. Can you hear me?”
“Yeah,” she said, squinting out of one eye. “Who are you?”
“I’m Trevor Harrington. My friends call me Trev. I found you a short distance from here.”
She blinked slowly as if to clear her head. “And where is here exactly?”
“Um. We’re in my cabin. In the mountains.”
He knew the moment she found her focus. Her blue eyes locked onto his and the hair on his arms rose like he had been struck by lightning.
What the hell was that?
He chalked it up to physical attraction. The woman was hot, after all.
Two creases appeared between her brows when she scowled and he realized she must
have said something.
“What?” he asked, coming back to himself.
“You’re not the brightest crayon in the box, huh?” she said, trying to pull herself up.
Trevor took offense to that but gave her pass solely because she probably had a concussion, or worse. “Take it easy. I think you hit your head.”
“You think?” She gingerly pressed on the area behind her ear and noticed the crusted blood that stuck to her fingertips. “I’m pretty certain this blood means I did.”
“Do you remember what happened?”
“Only that I went on a hike and lost my way.”
“What were you doing out here by yourself? That’s not safe at all. Especially since there’s no phone service in these parts.”
“Well, now you tell me,” she snapped. “Do you think if I’d known that I would have gone gallivanting into the woods by myself?”
Trevor wisely kept his mouth shut. She seemed exactly the type to do just that.
“How far are we from civilization anyway? Please don’t tell me you’ve kidnapped me and plan to keep me here because, let me tell you, I’ve had a rough...” she froze, her face flashing with uncertainty as she visibly struggled to piece her memories together, “…day?”
“Try 2 days.”
Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve been gone since yesterday.”
She gasped and then winced to hold her head. “Jesus. My head.”
From his crouched position, Trevor straightened to his full height. He went to the bathroom and grabbed a cup of water and a clean washcloth. His arm held the bottle of peroxide against his side, leaving one hand free to pick up the tiny first aid kit kept.
Alissa pouted upon seeing all his supplies. “Are you a medic?”
“No. Just a man who’s prepared.”
She seemed to have lost her sass and sat quietly while he tended to her wounds. A hiss escaped her lips when he dabbed the cut on her head with peroxide.
“Sorry,” he mumbled but kept working.
She had superficial scrapes on her face and hands, as if she slid down face first into a pile of rocks.
