Mountain Manhattan_Mountain Man in the Big City

by Frankie Love

  I scoff, irritated. Here I am, giving her pieces of myself I never give anyone, and she pushes me away. I should never have come to this damn city.

  “Don’t be mad,” she says as I roll her onto the couch and stand.

  “Are you serious?” I shake my head, heading for the door. “I fucking want you, Mia.”

  “For what? Another few weeks? To make you feel better when you want to avoid confrontation? I don’t have time for—”

  “Dammit, woman.” I go back and pull her up from the couch and into my arms. Then I kiss her. Hard. Like she needs to be kissed. Biting her bottom lip, I want her to remember me, exactly as I am. An untamed man willing to give her everything.

  I drag her hips against my body, letting her feel my hard cock against her belly. “You know you want me,” I growl in her ear. “You know you want this.”

  She gasps, her nipples poking unabashedly through her thin t-shirt, her body like melting butter against my own solid frame. “I can’t.” The words manage to escape her lips even though it’s fucking clear she doesn’t mean them.

  “Fine.” I step away, leaving her body humming with desire. I won’t push her if she wants to pull away.

  21

  Ford

  It’s torture, the goddamn sculpture. I need Mia in my life to make this piece of metal into something special. I see her in the lobby over the next few days, behind a desk, helping guests, and every time I catch her eye, she looks away.

  Like she can’t fucking meet my gaze. Like she’s scared of what she might see.

  I told her too much. I told her about Cedric and she pulled back.

  She’s been through enough and my baggage is a weight she can’t carry right now.

  But damn, I don’t need her to carry a thing. I just want her under me. On top of me.

  I want to disappear into her.

  Yes, I am the epitome of emotionally unavailable but is that such a bad thing? Is the idea of us making love until I have to go home the worst thing in the world? God knows she could use some more fun in her life.

  And damn, the city is getting to me. Everywhere I turn, there are catcalls and demands. Women asking me out and not to mention the fucking parties I am obligated to attend as a guest of the mayor.

  I pull on a suit coat and run a hand over my beard. When I look in the mirror, I hardly recognize myself. My chest aches for the clear skies and green trees of Colorado, but instead, I straighten my tie and head out of my hotel room to hail a cab.

  “Wow,” Mia says as she catches sight of me in the hallway, where I’m dressed to the nines. She’s off the clock, in sweats and a messy ponytail, carrying a laundry basket. Seeing her slays me. I told her something I never tell anyone and she walked away.

  Yet, all I want right now is to pull her close, take her here and now. It’s like she alone can take away my pain.

  And she doesn’t seem to have a clue what she does to me.

  “Where are you headed?” she asks.

  “An art exhibition. In Soho.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes widen, and I see her swallow the lump in her throat. “Well, I won’t keep you.”

  “I’m in no hurry.”

  She bites her bottom lip and adjusts the oversized basket in her arms. “I should go put this up.”

  “Right,” I smirk, offense rising in my chest. “Folding laundry seems pretty pressing.”

  She shakes her head. “Whatever. I mean, you just… You look really nice, Ford.”

  I lift an eyebrow. “You look pretty good yourself.”

  She gives me a wary look. “I’m in pajamas.”

  “Exactly. I’m picturing you in your bed, stretched out.”

  She shakes her head, looking so damn tired. “There’s more to me than sex, you know.”

  I shrug. Truth is, over the last month together, sex was the number one thing we shared. We joked, we laughed, we fucked. But we never got deep; got personal. I don’t fucking do personal.

  Then I did. Once. And she pushed me away. Ended things then and there.

  Maybe that’s what Mia needs, but it’s sure as hell not what I want.

  “You could come, you know?” I lean in closer. “Be my date?”

  “I’m halfway through a job application online. I have to finish it.”

  “Sounds fun.”

  “Sounds like I’m trying to be an adult.” She rolls her eyes. “Remember? Paying bills. Working nine to five. Taking care of two kids—”

  “Hey, I get it,” I say.

  “Yeah, right.” Then she must remember what I told her, about losing my son. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean that. It wasn’t fair to say.”

  “It’s fine,” I tell her, walking away from the only thing in this city that reminded me of home.

  After days of fighting to break new ground with the piece in the park, I know I need to clear my head. Once again, I’m stalled. My muse walked out on me and this sculpture ground to a fucking halt.

  “I’m headed out of town,” I tell the crew who has been with me every day, bringing me tools and assisting me as I solder pieces of sheet metal together. The sculpture is taking form, but only because Mia opened my heart over the last month.

  But now she’s walked away and I’m not sure I have the will to finish the goddamn thing.

  “For how long?” the foreman of the crew asks.

  “Three, four days tops.”

  “Where you headed?”

  “Home.”

  Mr. Roller and Mia are in a heated conversation when I enter the lobby of the Mid-Manhattan Hotel. I want to let them know I’ll be gone for a bit, but I don’t want to interrupt.

  Mr. Roller, though, notices me and calls me over. “Son, maybe you can talk some sense into Mia, here.”

  “Oh?”

  “No, it’s not necessary,” Mia says, her eyes meeting mine and giving me the slightest shake of her head. “I’m fine.”

  “No, Mia. You aren’t. You need to use your vacation leave before the hotel… well, before… you need to use the time you have saved.”

  “I need to work,” she insists, focusing on the pad of Post-it notes in her hand.

  “It’s paid time off,” Mr. Roller says, raising his hands as if it’s a no-brainer.

  “Why aren’t you working right now?” Mia asks me.

  “I see what you’re doing,” I say, with a smile. “Changing the subject and getting the attention off yourself.”

  She crosses her arms. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

  Not wanting to give her a hard time, I tell her the truth. “I’m headed out of town for the long weekend. Going to Colorado.”

  Just then, Tallie walks into the lobby with a grin. “Awesome news!” she shrieks.

  “What’s that?” Mia asks, apprehension covering her face.

  “Well, after I dropped Matty off at the YMCA camp, Karis called and her parents invited Jaimie and me to come with them this weekend to Martha’s Vineyard. They rented a house, last minute. We’re talking beachside, poolside, perfection!”

  “Wow.” Mia frowns, her face anything but excited. “So, you’ll be gone?”

  “Yeah, is it okay?” Tallie reaches over the desk and squeezes her big sister’s hand. “I mean, I know you’ll be all alone, with Matty gone too, but maybe it’s a good thing? A little time off?”

  Mr. Roller beams. “Perfect timing,” he says. “I was just telling your sister she needs to take the next few days off, so she doesn’t waste her paid leave.” Mr. Roller pats Mia’s shoulder before walking away. “Glad we sorted that out.”

  “Right,” Mia says, giving Tallie and me the fakest, saddest smile I’ve ever seen. “I’ll just catch up on the things I’ve been dying to do. Shave my legs or read a book. It’ll be super fun.”

  “Or,” I say, lifting my eyebrows, “you could come with me. My treat.”

  “Where?” Tallie asks.

  “He’s going to Colorado. So, obviously that’s a no,” Mia says, looking pointedly at me.

/>   “Why?” Tallie asks. “Aren’t you like, bed buddies or something?”

  “Tallie!” Mia screeches at her sister. “That’s so not appropriate.”

  Tallie snorts. “Okay. Gosh!” She raises her hands in defeat. “But um, a free trip to the mountains? You could seriously use a relaxing weekend.”

  “No way. I should be—”

  Tallie cuts her off. “You should what? Be stressing out? Giving yourself an ulcer?”

  “Point taken,” Mia says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Hey,” I say, the idea sounding better and better as I think about it. Mia is my muse and a weekend with her seems like the breath of fresh air I need and she needs it too. Probably more than me. “Let’s do this, Mia. What do we have to lose?”

  She looks at her sister and me. “Am I going to regret this?”

  I clap my hands, grinning. “No way. A weekend alone in the woods with me? What could go wrong? Pack your hiking boots and let’s go.”

  “Hiking boots?” She laughs. “You do realize I’ve lived my entire life in Manhattan?”

  “Then it’s time this city girl tasted the great outdoors.”

  22

  Mia

  By the end of the red-eye flight, my body is aching from sleeping upright, and my thoughts are racing. Yes, this is exciting but what did I get myself into?

  When the plane lands, Ford squeezes my hand and I try to relax. The truth is, I have a ruggedly handsome man next to me and nothing waiting for me at home.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” he says, a warm smile on his lips. “We’re here.”

  “What?” I ask, self-conscious. I sit up straighter and adjust my cardigan sweater.

  “Thanks for coming.” He squeezes my hand. “It means a lot.”

  I was drooling in my sleep. And my breath stinks. And yesterday’s makeup is giving me raccoon eyes. But Ford looks at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. My heart skips a beat. He is inviting me to his home. I yearn to learn more about this mysterious man who has been through so much. And even though I don’t deserve a place in his heart, he seems to want me here with him. He’s letting me in and it makes me want to make more of an effort.

  People are disembarking from the plane and since we’re in first class, I’m aware that we need to get up. But Ford’s words are so sincere, that I can’t help but lean in and give him a kiss, morning breath and all.

  Not long after, we’re in his truck. He tells me proudly that it’s a vintage F1 Stepside pickup, bright red. If I had tried to picture Ford’s mode of transportation, this is what I would have landed on. Classic in a sexy-as-hell kinda way.

  “Cherry red? I like it, Ford. Sinfully delicious.” I wiggle my eyebrows, running my fingers over the hood of his truck, enjoying the relaxed smile on his face as he watches me. We aren’t even out of the Denver airport and already Ford looks like he is home.

  He’d kept the truck in long-term parking and once we’re buckled up, we head toward the highway. His mountainside cabin awaits. The fact is, I’m not even feeling a little nervous about being alone with him, so far out in the middle of nowhere. Ford eases my worry anytime we are together. It’s incredible when I think about it, considering how often I am stuck in my head.

  “It’s a few hours’ drive,” he tells me as he rolls onto the freeway. “Try and get some more sleep if you can.”

  I nod, looking out the window at the landscape, so unfamiliar. I didn’t even have time to Google anything about this place. Last night, after the conversation in the lobby, Tallie helped me pack and then we left, just like that.

  Mr. Roller swore he would take care of things if anything came up with Matty, and Karis’ parents also offered to be an emergency contact. So, I have nothing to worry about, in theory. But still, it’s hard to turn off the part of my mind that is in constant motion.

  One thing is weighing on my mind though, and I want to mention it before we get to his place. “So, uh, I was wondering… is there any chance of me running into an old flame while I’m here? Like an ex-wife or…”

  He looks over at me with worry, before looking back at the road. “No. No, nothing like that. I’ve never been married. And I haven’t dated since my son was born.” His lip twitches and I know I’ve hit a nerve. When he doesn’t say any more, I reach over and squeeze his hand. I want to know his entire story… but I am learning that with Ford, patience is a virtue.

  “You like music?” he asks changing the subject as we drive down a highway that is laughably empty. No skyscrapers, no traffic, no noise.

  “Yeah,” I say with a smile. “Oldies.”

  “Nice,” he says, changing the station on the radio. “Let’s see what I can find.”

  “Don’t you have Spotify or Pandora or something?”

  He laughs. “Woman, have you heard a thing I’ve ever said?”

  I laugh too. “Right. Reclusive mountain man who hates technology.”

  “There we go,” he says as an old Beach Boys song comes on. “That work?”

  “Perfect,” I admit, leaning back in the passenger seat, looking out the window at a sea of green trees. My eyes close as familiar words float over me.

  Maybe everyone was right. Maybe a few days off is exactly what I need.

  His place is insane.

  “This is your cabin in the woods?” I snort, incredulous. Two stories high, exposed rafters, a beautiful staircase, and exquisite carpentry everywhere I look.

  “Yeah. I built a lot of it. Took me the better half of a decade.” He drops our luggage in the foyer. A gorgeous skylight is above us, allowing bright morning sun to stream through, streaking the pine floorboards with a perfect sheen.

  I swallow, taking it in and following Ford into the cabin. “This is straight out of a magazine.”

  “You like?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow.

  “Um, yeah. I like.”

  He has a state-of-the-art kitchen, a gorgeous river rock fireplace that stretches two stories high, flanked by built-in bookcases, and smartly appointed leather furniture. Above us is the second floor and I see several doors, presumably leading to bedrooms. When we pulled onto the property, he pointed out his shop, which was a massive structure as large as a barn, and a few outbuildings. One of which he said housed his snowmobile and riding lawn mower. Nothing is run down or done halfway. This is the lap of luxury; an oasis far from the outside world. No wonder Ford has issues with the cramped vibe of NYC when here he has a sprawling piece of property.

  I have so many questions for Ford. I have since our conversation the night Matty got hurt. But so much of it carries a heavy weight, and I don’t want to press him for his story. Especially, when I was the one who ended things with him.

  Ford turns off a house alarm and then walks around the great room, pushing open thick grey curtains and letting the space warm naturally.

  “You have a security system but not a smartphone?” I tease, taking my time as I look around the room.

  Sunlight filters through the window and I feel my face flush with vitamin D. It feels so good to be out of the hotel where I have the same view of the same lobby, day in and day out.

  Here, everything is new.

  “Look, I may be old-school in a lot of ways, but I’m not an idiot. This place means everything to me. It’s my home. I’d hate for anyone to break in.”

  I nod, his words make sense, but I don’t have the luxury of holding tight to my home. “Mr. Roller said the buyer is bulldozing the entire lot. Building a high-rise. In a matter of weeks, my home-sweet-home will be gone for good.”

  “Damn,” Ford says slowly, shaking his head as we walk into the kitchen. Granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances gleaming. I wonder what he thought when he looked around my tiny basement apartment?

  The thing about Ford, though, is that I don’t think he cares. His wealth never came up before. When he says he is a simple man, I still believe him. Even looking around, everything is functional and though i
t’s beautiful, it isn’t gaudy or obscene.

  “It’s everything wrong with the world,” he says. “Tearing down the good things, thinking we can improve what already works.”

  “To be fair, the hotel is pretty run down. I mean, half the rooms have faulty wiring and the whole place is an insurance liability nightmare.”

  “Sure.” Ford shrugs. “But isn’t there something beautiful in fixing what is broken, instead of throwing it away?”

  “Yeah. But maybe there is beauty in starting all over too. From scratch. Like you did with this cabin. Like what I’m doing with my entire life.”

  Ford steps closer to me, listening to what I’m saying.

  “It’s a luxury to see things the way you do, Ford. It takes money to fix things, it takes time to slowly rebuild. Most people don’t have either of those things.”

  “I didn’t mean to be insensitive.” He pulls me to him, and I sink into the comfort of his embrace. He smells so good, even after a long flight, and here in his home, we’re in no rush. I exhale, feeling like the nap in the car wasn’t long enough. In this cabin, I feel like I could sleep the month away.

  “I hear what you’re saying, Mia. And I’m fucking impressed by you in a million ways. You don’t have it easy, but you don’t complain. You rise. Rise above.”

  I smile softly, not feeling like the strong woman he describes me as. More than anything I feel trapped. “Do I have a choice?”

  Ford tilts up my chin, our eyes meeting. “We always have a choice.”

  He kisses me then, and his body melts against my own. “A choice huh?” I say, breathlessly. “Right now, can I choose you?”

  He growls a yes and lifts me from the floor, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me to toward the fireplace. With a simple flick of a switch, the gas fire blazes and he sets me down on a plush, brown bearskin rug.

  I laugh. “You’re good at this, Ford.”

  “When I got this rug, I pictured taking a woman on it. Didn’t know I’d have someone like you here with me, though.” He pulls down throw pillows from the couch and eases one behind my head, and then he begins to pull off my leggings, looking at me like I’m something he wants to devour.

  God, how I want him to taste me.