A Weekend with the Mountain Man

by Nicole Casey

  No, I told myself. When I ask her out, it will be when she is paying attention and interested. That way she can reject me without a second thought.

  “Actually, never mind,” I said quickly, turning away. “I’m late for an appointment.”

  Maya laughed.

  “Okay, we’ll catch up another time. My date is getting impatient too.”

  Before I could stop myself, I whipped my head around and looked where she had been staring.

  A slender blonde man with curly hair and bright blue eyes was staring after Maya as if his gaze was magnetically drawn to her.

  Oh my God, I thought, a sick feeling washing through me. Do I look that pathetic when I stare at Maya too?

  The man was oozing hopelessness and I was embarrassed for him.

  But not surprised.

  There was just something about Maya. Everyone could see it.

  It wasn’t a specific quality or any particular thing she did or said.

  It was everything in one sweet-faced fluid package.

  The way she made you feel when she walked into a room, the way the dim lighting caught her dark red hair inside the yoga studio or the glint in her emerald orbs when her gaze fell upon you.

  I had been in love with her since the first time I had landed in her class over six months ago.

  Of course, I had been with Regan then and I knew my fascination with Maya was a crush which would never be requited.

  Or so I had thought at the time.

  But ever since I had finally walked away from Regan’s lying, cheating ways, I had been unable to get the idea of the petite ginger from my head.

  My knuckles still clenched every time I thought of the way Regan had betrayed me, but something told me that Maya Viera could wash away the bad taste in my mouth which my ex-girlfriend had left behind.

  I knew I had to see Maya again and see if the attraction I had harbored was still there.

  When the lithe yoga instructor had taken her spot at the front, I felt as if I had been smacked in the face with a wave of adoration for her.

  That night was the first time the place was not spilling over. Maya classes were always booked solid which was unsurprising; her aura was enough to alleviate anyone’s stress.

  You didn’t even need to do the exercises; being in her shadow was therapeutic enough for anyone.

  The rain had been my motivation for biting the bullet and going to the session that night.

  I figured that I would have the opportunity to get her alone and choke out the date invitation I had been smothering on for half a year.

  But it seemed like I never had a chance.

  And now she was seeing someone.

  I watched in devastation as she met with the man and they disappeared into the lobby together.

  “You look like your dog just died.”

  I glanced up and tried to force a smile, but it didn’t happen.

  “I feel like he did,” I murmured, trying to remember the name of the man who stood at my side.

  He was a good friend of Maya’s and I thought he taught meditation or did reiki or something.

  I didn’t really care; he wasn’t Maya. She was the only reason I kept going back to the studio in Oriental even though I lived in Minnesott Beach.

  His name didn’t come to me, but I was in no mood to make introductions. I needed to lick my wounds and move on.

  I would have to find a plan B to catch her attention.

  But what if it’s not serious and I didn’t ask. Maybe I should just ask her anyway. I’ll come back tomorrow and -

  “Do you have a dog?”

  The question caught me slightly off guard.

  I eyed the giant standing beside me warily.

  “Yes,” I replied politely. “A poodle. His name is Barker.”

  The man laughed loudly, attracting the attention of the other members of the class.

  “Barker! Ha ha ha! That’s comical! She’ll love that!”

  I turned my head fully.

  “Who will love that?” I asked, confused by the entire conversation.

  My head was swimming and I didn’t feel like talking anymore.

  “Maya,” he replied. “You’re staring after her like…Barker.”

  He snorted at his own joke, but I was not amused.

  I turned, disinterested in anything else Maya’s friend had to say.

  “There’s nothing going on between her and that guy,” he called after me and I couldn’t stop myself from freezing in my tracks.

  “How do you know?” I demanded, whirling to stare. He shrugged his massive shoulders.

  “Because Maya is not one to be tied down to any man. She is much too free a spirit for that.”

  I felt my eyes narrowing.

  “How do you know so much about Maya?”

  He grimaced.

  “I’m Malcolm Trainor. I own this studio. Maya lives in my house. Trust me, if anyone knows Maya, I would say it’s me.”

  Suddenly, I was very interested in what this man had to say.

  If I can get in good with Malcolm and he is Maya’s best friend, that could go a long way. Maybe he’ll even put in a good word for me and Malcolm can be my wing man or something.

  Plan B was taking shape in my mind after all.

  “So, you don’t think anything is really happening with her and that guy?” I asked optimistically, and Malcolm scoffed.

  “I can guarantee it,” he replied.

  He cast me a sidelong look.

  “You did hear what I said, right?” he asked but I was only half-listening.

  So, there is hope for me yet.

  I almost kissed the bear at my side with gratitude.

  “Hey!” he growled. “Did you hear me?”

  “Yeah, of course,” I fibbed. I was too busy planning my next move.

  I would have to spend more time in Oriental, get to know Maya’s schedule better…

  “What’s your name again? I’ve seen you in here before,” Malcolm interrupted my thoughts again.

  “Troy Caspian.”

  Malcolm grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him, startling me from my amorous thoughts.

  “Troy, listen to me,” he urged. “I meant what I said. Maya Viera will not settle down for any man. It is not in her nature. It is not her style.”

  I wriggled out of his firm grasp and nodded.

  “I understand,” I replied but I still didn’t heed the meaning behind his words.

  I was far too excited to know that Maya could be tangible after all.

  Malcolm sighed and turned away.

  “You guys never learn,” I heard him mumble but I didn’t put any stock into his words.

  “Malcolm!” I called after him. “When is Maya teaching next?”

  “Tomorrow at noon,” he muttered as he walked away.

  Obviously I can’t do that because of work but I will find out another time to come and see her. Or maybe I can sneak out of work early or take an extra-long lunch…

  I knew I would work it out.

  I was filled with excitement at the prospects for the future.

  Or maybe I was getting ahead of myself.

  Would Maya even consider a man like me for a boyfriend?

  I was average looking at best although I was told that I had nice eyes and a great smile.

  And don’t forget I’m flipping hilarious. What woman wouldn’t want a man with a sense of humor?

  As I gave myself a pep talk, I noticed that everyone had begun to filter out of the room and I was standing there alone like a daydreaming fool.

  A hot stain reddened my cheeks and I gathered my bag, beelining it for the door.

  I pushed my way into the driving rain and abruptly, Malcolm’s words came smacking back at me like a ton of bricks.

  “I meant what I said. Maya Viera will not settle down for any man. It is not in her nature. It is not her style…you guys never learn…”

  I stopped walking, allowing the rain to pour down over me as I fi
nally comprehended what Maya’s housemate was trying to tell me.

  There’s nothing between Maya and that guy because she will never take anyone seriously. She doesn’t believe in relationships. I have just as much a chance as everyone else at claiming Maya as my own. There is a zero percent chance that will happen.

  The doubt and disappointment I had felt before speaking with Malcolm hit me again and I shook my head in defiance.

  No, I told myself. Maya has been let down by other men or she has daddy issues or whatever. I will make her see that not all men are bad. I can make her mine.

  With new resolve, I raised my head and made my way to my car.

  I was going to be Maya Viera’s boyfriend. I had never been so determined to do anything in my life.

  I promise that when you finally see me, baby, you’re never going to remember a time when I wasn’t around. I just leave that much of an impression. Just ask Regan.

  4

  Maya

  Our date was one of the nicer I had been on from a cosmetic standpoint.

  Slade picked me up from the yoga studio where I was hardly dressed to impress. I had been expecting some fast food dining experience, maybe the Outback or Red Lobster but he shocked me by taking me to one of the only five-star restaurants in Oriental.

  “It was short notice,” he apologized when we were seated inside the crystal encrusted Station House in a private booth. “There’s a wonderful restaurant in Vandemere which I would have loved to have taken you but…”

  He trailed off, but I knew what he was thinking; next time.

  I wasn’t uncomfortable, despite being tragically underdressed for the occasion.

  Embarrassment wasn’t something that came easily to me, unlike so many other women I knew.

  Vyolet would be mortified being caught at a place like this in a pair of jeans and a tank top, I thought, envisioning my sister’s face in such a scenario.

  “You’re smiling,” Slade commented, leaning across the table to reach for my hand.

  Subtly, I pulled my hand back and cocked my head to the side flirtatiously.

  Again, the apprehension I had been feeling about accepting the date was resurfacing.

  Disappointment colored his face as I sat against my chair, my body out of his reach.

  “I’m always smiling,” I replied lightly. “I have much to be happy about.”

  Slade’s blue eyes widened.

  “Really?” he asked, seeming dubious. “You may be the first woman in the history of time who has ever uttered those words.”

  A spark of annoyance shivered through me, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

  “Well that’s the biggest stereotype I’ve ever heard,” I said. “Are all women ungrateful then?”

  His face turned pale and he shook his head.

  “Oh no!” he cried, loudly enough to raise reproving eyebrows from neighboring tables. “That’s not what I meant at all!”

  I forced myself to grin again although I could not shake the feeling that I had walked into a bad situation.

  “I’m an investment banker,” he told me suddenly and it immediately made sense. His almost palpable stress levels, his rigid structure.

  I bet he hasn’t slept a full night in ten years.

  I nodded understandingly.

  “You’re used to seeing greed in all walks of life,” I declared. “Trophy wives, cutthroat execs, the works?”

  He nodded vehemently, his eyes brightening.

  “That’s exactly what I meant,” he exhaled with relief. “It wasn’t some misogynistic dig, I promise.”

  I laughed and shrugged.

  “Some people fall into the right stereotypes but that doesn’t mean all stereotypes are right, right?”

  He laughed and raised a glass in silent toast.

  “I can’t believe how easy you are to talk to,” Slade said, and I lowered my eyes. It was something I heard often from people.

  I chalked it up to being comfortable in my own skin and having empathy for others. It was amazing to me how many people can’t walk a mile in someone else’s shoes.

  People lived to hear themselves speak, to be right, to be heard. It wasn’t often that someone feels they are speaking, getting a point across or being heard.

  Interestingly, I found Slade equally charming in conversation.

  It was not one sided in the least despite my sly attempts to subtly wrangle information out of him.

  “Do you like your job?” I asked him and instantly the light disappeared from his eyes.

  I’ll take that as a “no.”

  “It’s allows me certain freedoms I wouldn’t have in another situation,” he replied evasively, and I laughed aloud.

  “What’s so funny?” he demanded but I could see he knew what I was thinking.

  “I’m not one of your one percent friends,” I told him teasingly. “You can answer me honestly. I can see how much stress you carry on your shoulders. I told you that this morning before I knew anything about you. How is your headache by the way?”

  Slade sighed and shook his head.

  “It’s perpetual,” he replied quietly. “It never really goes away.”

  “Do you think that’s from your job?” I asked, wondering if he had another misguided excuse for his stress-related pain.

  “Oh most definitely. I never had a headache in my life before I started at Charter-Abrams.”

  I laughed at his frankness, but I was still curious.

  “Then why do you do it? Are you really that money driven?”

  I expected him to grow defensive by the question, but he surprised me.

  “What else is there?” he remarked with an almost wistful nonchalance. It was if he hoped there was a better answer, but he had never learned it.

  The answer made me sad and I could see my initial assessment of him had been accurate.

  He was lonely. He needed someone to talk to, someone to hear him.

  My sympathies were back, and I found myself leaning forward to take his hand this time.

  “There’s you. There’s art and music. There’s sunsets and snowfalls. There’s love,” I rhymed off. “There is much more to life than just working to pay bills and dropping dead after retirement.”

  Slade chuckled mirthlessly.

  “If that’s true, I have yet to find the beauty in any of it.”

  It was as if he had said magic words.

  He needed a spiritual guide, a mentor to see life more clearly and with fresh eyes.

  “I have an idea,” I told him, hoping to wipe the melancholic expression from his face.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “Why don’t we finish our amazing dinner and then go back to your place?”

  His eyes seemed like hot coals burning into me.

  “Oh yeah?” he asked, trying to hide the leer in his words.

  “Easy there, tiger,” I laughed. “I will give you an amazing massage. I am willing to bet that you have a dozen knots in your back and shoulders.”

  He peered at me skeptically, studying my face for sincerity.

  “Why would you do that for me?” he asked, and I was taken aback by the response.

  “Most men would not look a gift horse in the mouth,” I told him.

  “Most men don’t know that the adage ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth’ is based on the Trojan horse. I never understood why no one would want to check out that big ass horse before bringing it behind the gates.”

  I began to chuckle and suddenly I knew that I liked Slade.

  It was more than sympathy or a desire to make him see light and beauty.

  I sincerely liked him from somewhere in my core.

  He’s a little dark and his priorities are a little screwy but he’s a good guy. I should give him a chance.

  The idea unnerved me slightly and I couldn’t say why precisely.

  “You are easily amused, aren’t you?” he asked, and I shook my medium length waves, biting on my lower lip. />
  “Not really,” I demurred.

  “Then why are you always smiling?” he countered, a beam touching his own lips as he waited for the answer with anticipation.

  “I like you,” I told him sincerely. There was no point in lying to him

  I enjoyed his company and as the night progressed, I was beginning to feel that prosaic sensation under my skin when a great attraction unfolds inside me.

  I barely remember finishing the meal, but we seemed to be back at his townhouse through the pounding rain in a trance-like state.

  Rocco remembered me instantly, ignoring his master and jumping up to lick my face fully as we entered the house.

  “Wow,” Slade snickered. “How’s that for loyalty? You see? Even my mutt doesn’t care if I’m home. That is why I do it.”

  There was no malice or anger in his tone. Just the matter-of-factness of the statement which made my heart sink slightly.

  The pang of compassion returned, and I gently laid the canine onto the floor, slipping off my runners to follow Slade into the house.

  “Drink?” he asked, and I shook my head.

  “No,” I replied. “I already had more than my limit.”

  He paused to smile at me.

  “Maybe that was my intention – get you drunk and lower your inhibitions a bit.”

  I guffawed.

  “You obviously don’t know me very well if you think I have inhibitions,” I informed him. “But I have to work in the morning, remember?”

  “Ah yes!” he chirped. “You’re working for me. How could I forget?”

  “Rocco is one of several furry friends who I have the pleasure of walking tomorrow morning.”

  In the kitchen, he turned, leaning his back against the counter.

  “So when you said you don’t date, what does that mean?” he asked quizzically, and I tensed.

  Why did he have to ruin a perfectly lovely evening with semantics?

  “Just what I said,” I said shortly. “I don’t do long term relationships.”

  “Never?” he challenged, and I tried not to grit my teeth as I shook my head.

  “Your bedroom is upstairs?” I asked abruptly, determined to change the subject before he began delving into the psychology behind my behavior.

  He nodded, cerulean eyes blazing with interest.

  “But sex isn’t off the table.”