Going The Distance (Four Corners Book 3)

by Artemis Anders

  Going The Distance

  Four Corners Series, Book Three

  Artemis Anders

  Copyright © 2018 by Artemis Anders

  All rights reserved.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

  All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.

  Cover design by Angela Haddon Book Cover Design

  Also by Artemis Anders

  Four Corners series

  Afterglow (Teagan and Aaron)

  Wild Inside (Diana and Asher)

  Going the Distance (Hannah and Cain)

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  Chapter One

  What a gorgeous day.

  That was Hannah’s sole thought as she ran along the dirt trail. The forest understory was just beginning to green, and the morning sun peeked through the tall evergreen forest and warmed her soul. It was cold when she left her house hours earlier—in the thirties—but that wasn’t unusual for an April morning at 8,000 feet. But it had warmed up to a comfortable temperature.

  She’d already run sixteen miles on that Saturday morning. Twelve miles to go, and then another fifteen tomorrow.

  It was always beautiful up there, near her home in the mountains of Colorado. But there was something about today, something about springtime and the snow melting and looking forward to summer that always got Hannah excited. Plus, this summer would be her summer. The summer she would attain a goal she’d had since she was a teenager… to complete her first 100-mile race.

  She trekked down a hill and then up an even bigger one. She kept her pace comfortable, a necessity for longer runs, allowing her to train her body’s endurance systems.

  Up ahead, she saw someone coming toward her. A fellow trail runner. The closer he got, the more Hannah realized he was a trail runner she knew. One she’d been seeing casually, including as recently as this week. They both stopped for a chat.

  “Hannah,” Jeff said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Out for a short run?”

  Hannah smiled. Jeff knew that “short” and “run” were two words Hannah rarely put together, especially on a Saturday in April. “Morning, Jeff. Yeah, just a few miles.”

  He laughed at that. “How’s training for High Peaks?”

  “It’s great. It’s beautiful today. How are you? How was the rest of your week?”

  He shrugged. “Same old, same old.” He paused, eyeing her. “I tried to call you yesterday. What are you doing tonight? You feel like getting together, maybe grab some dinner?”

  Hannah hesitated. “Oh… thanks for the offer, but I’m going to take it easy tonight.”

  “I’m happy to take it easy with you if you’d rather stay in…”

  “I think I’m just going to spend some time at home, maybe do some reading.”

  Jeff eyed her. “If you’re not interested in going out again, just say so, Hannah. I can take it.”

  “I never said that. I just want to stay at home tonight—”

  Jeff sighed in exasperation. “If you’re going to spend time at home, then why can’t we spend it together?”

  Growing annoyed, Hannah took a deep breath. “You know I like my alone time, Jeff. I told you that—”

  “Yeah, but this is ridiculous. You don’t want to get together that often, you don’t want to run together…”

  “Look,” Hannah snapped. “You know I’m training for High Peaks. It takes a shitload of time and energy. Along with my job, that’s about all I can manage. I can hang out now and again, but that’s it.”

  “Yeah, on your schedule.”

  “Not on my schedule. Just not tonight.”

  Jeff rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I’m asking to stay all weekend at your house or move in with you. I’m asking to see you tonight.”

  Hannah’s patience ran out. “Yeah, and I’m saying no. What part of ‘no’ do you not fucking get, Jeff? How many different ways do I have to say it?”

  He chuffed, shaking his head. “Jesus. You’re being a bitch.”

  “Why?” Hannah retorted, her face growing hot and her hands balling into fists. “Why am I a bitch? Because I said no to you? Because I don’t want to get together? I’m a bitch because I don’t make up some fake-ass excuse about having other plans, or because I don’t live to make you happy?”

  “You’ll never make anybody happy, Hannah. You’re going to die alone.” Jeff turned and walked off.

  “What the hell kind of comment is that?” she called after him.

  “It’s the truth,” he called back, taking off into a run and disappearing into the forest.

  Hannah stood there for a moment, her face still burning hot. She unclenched her fists—no need for them, now that Jeff had run off and she would have no opportunity to punch him in the face.

  What an asshole.

  And Hannah would chalk it up to nothing more than that… if she hadn’t participated in some version of that conversation too many times before. It was as if men were so used to women who wanted to spend a ton of time together that they couldn’t deal with her. Men she knew, especially the outdoorsy ones, were always complaining that their non-outdoorsy girlfriends resented their time out on the trails or in training, or drinking beer with their buddies. Well, here she was, giving these guys plenty of space to do whatever they wanted to do, and… they didn’t like it.

  They didn’t like that she preferred to run alone instead of making inane chatter for hours. They didn’t like that she didn’t want to get together more than once a week or so. They didn’t like that she wouldn’t commit or stop seeing other guys. Not that she saw a lot of guys—who has time for that?—but she wasn’t going to rule out meeting someone else if she had the opportunity. And she’d made it clear to these men that they could see other women if they wanted.

  She didn’t get it. These guys got good company and sex, without any strings. And all they did was whine.

  Hannah shook her head. Men. She didn’t get them. She never had. And they didn’t get her, either.

  She took a sip from the tube of her hydration pack, and continued up the trail.

  Sunday, Hannah stepped out of her long hot shower, her body sore from back-to-back training runs. She felt tired that day. So tired that she almost called Summer to cancel brunch. But she didn’t. Hannah had no problem saying no to people, but once she said yes, she kept her word.

  Besides, she was starving.

  She drove to downtown Evergreen, parking on the street and walking to meet Summer at Lucy’s, a cute little place that touted Evergreen’s best breakfast. She and Summer had met on a backpacking trip a couple of years back. They’d both gone solo—Hannah to get away from it all, Summer because she couldn’t get anyone to go with her—and they ended up hanging out together for the rest of the weekend. She’d turned out to be a good friend. Which was important, because her two closest friends had moved away to be with the men they loved—Teagan to Tucson and Diana to Red Rim Valley, UT. It had been challenging enough with them living in other parts of Colorado. Now, they were all spread out among the Four Corners states, making it more challenging to get together.

  Hannah walked slowly, her tired muscles getting stiff after just a short car ride from her little mountain house.

  “Looking a little slow there, Christiansen,” came a voice.

  Hannah turned around, laughing, knowing who was giving her a hard time. A strawberry blonde woman in a lightweight down coat approached.

  “Ho
w many miles this weekend?” Summer asked.

  “Forty-three, total.”

  “Shit,” Summer said, slowing her pace to Hannah’s.

  “Yeah. I felt great yesterday, but today… I’m wiped out. I need brunch for two people and about a gallon of coffee.”

  When they arrived at Lucy’s, Summer opened the door for Hannah. “You’re not overtraining, are you? I know how you get…”

  “I’m not! I swear. I’m following the training program, that’s all.”

  Summer greeted the host, who went to look for a table for them. “Good. Just be careful and listen to your body. Your body is intelligent and will let you know what it needs.”

  “Okay, Guru Summer.” Hannah put her palms together and gave Summer a little yoga bow.

  Summer stuck her tongue out at Hannah. That was Summer’s signature act of rebellion, and about the meanest she ever got.

  The host sat them at what appeared to be the last table in the busy place, filled with Sunday brunchers. After their server took their order and brought them coffee, they caught up on what they’d been up to. Summer’s nutrition and wellness practice had grown and was busy due to spring coming and people looking to shed winter pounds and bad habits. Hannah was working by day at Athena, a women’s fitness gear company, and training on nights and weekends.

  “Are you still seeing Jeff?” Summer asked.

  Hannah rolled her eyes. “Not anymore.”

  “What happened?”

  Hannah told Summer about yesterday’s extra-special conversation with Jeff.

  Summer made a face. “Wow. He sounds very insecure. That’s so not about you, Hannah.”

  “Well, it’s a little about me. He wanted a girlfriend and I didn’t want to be one.”

  “So? You told him you like your alone time, you made him no promises, and you said no without making up some excuse about having to clean your fireplace andirons. You don’t owe him squat.”

  Hannah chuckled at that. “You’re feisty today.”

  Summer sighed. “I am feisty when it comes to my friends. Not so much with my own dating life.”

  “I don’t get it,” Hannah said, shaking her head. “Some of these guys… they say they want honesty, but when you give it to them, they fall apart. I’m so tired of being told there’s something wrong with me. Even if there is,” she added, taking another swig of coffee and feeling the life return to her.

  Summer sipped her orange juice. “Don’t worry, Hannah. Someday, when you least expect it, you’ll meet some guy who will appreciate the space you give him and will not only tolerate your blunt honesty… he’ll like it.”

  Hannah scoffed as the server plunked their food down in front of them. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  As Hannah ran through the forest, she tapped her GPS watch. Then again. But it remained blank.

  She stopped and tried again. Same thing. She removed it from her wrist and took a closer look. It looked fine. She shook the watch, then pressed the power button a few times. Nothing.

  Fuck.

  Hannah looked around. It was Saturday. Her long run day. And while she knew most of the trails in her area by now, she’d ventured off into new territory that day to avoid circling the same routes over and over again. Often, on her runs, she would just let her mind go into a quiet state and trust that if she happened to get lost or turned around, she could trust her GPS to help her find her way back. In all her years of hiking, backpacking, and trail running, she’d probably used the way-back function once, maybe twice, and her GPS had proven itself worth the cost.

  But this one was only a few months old and it was on the fritz. And she had no idea where she was.

  She turned around and headed back, knowing that her memory would jog once she happened upon a trail intersection with signs. But when she reached the first intersection, there was no sign. She turned and viewed the intersection from the opposite viewpoint, the one she would have seen when coming from that direction. But she’d been in the zone for some time and had no recollection of having even reached the intersection, much less which way she’d come from.

  A small wave of panic hit her. Lost in the Colorado Front Range mountains? On a cold Saturday? When the sky had a thick layer of clouds and she couldn’t see the afternoon sun for navigation? When her hydration pack was down to its last sips and she was dead fucking tired??

  She shook off such thoughts. Panic solved nothing. She looked up, trying to see where the sun seemed brightest. No luck there. So she chose the path that seemed to head in the general direction she needed to go.

  But two hours later, it was dark and getting really cold. Despite paying very close attention to her surroundings, she still recognized no part of the trail. Her stomach grumbled, her hydration pack was empty, and her mouth was dry. Her head hurt, her legs hurt, and all she wanted to do was lie down. She couldn’t think that straight anymore. She’d stopped running by then, wanting to conserve some energy in case she was stuck out there for the night, trying to survive.

  But she wasn’t dressed for running in the mountains on an April night, much less hiking or walking. She was dressed for daytime running, which meant she wore only a fraction of the clothing she needed now. She began to shiver.

  Hannah kept walking at a brisk pace, jogging when she felt up to it. She was heading downhill, slightly anyway. Downhill would eventually lead to civilization. Eventually. Hopefully.

  Suddenly, she caught her foot on something and tripped. She was so fatigued that she didn’t even come close to catching herself, and wound up face down on the trail, eating dirt.

  She muttered a few choice words, then peeled herself off the ground and stood up. After letting a head rush pass, she turned around to see what evil shithead hazard had tripped her up. A tree root. And a small one at that. She sighed and kept walking. She wasn’t dead yet, damn it. She could walk. But panic began to encroach again.

  “Be calm,” she mumbled to herself. “Be calm.”

  Then, in the distance, she saw it.

  Light. A house!

  She picked up her pace. Soon, she was at the door of a small log cabin, the kind she’d always loved but couldn’t find when she was house hunting. She knocked on the door.

  When the door opened, Hannah’s stomach clenched.

  There stood a man—big, solid, with dark hair that tumbled onto his forehead and a long, thick, mountain-man beard. Big brown eyes stared at her.

  And they looked scary and pissed off.

  Chapter Two

  Hannah backed away just slightly at the angry gaze, wondering if she were better off wandering the sub-freezing mountains all night than dealing with this creep.

  The burly, bearded man stood before her and raised one irritated eyebrow, as if to convey that her showing up on his doorstep was the biggest annoyance of his life. Like she’d invaded his privacy… or interrupted him trying to bury the bodies of the dozens of other women who’d foolishly darkened his doorstep. He looked her up and down with dark, dangerous eyes, like he was sizing her up for… something. Something that didn’t benefit her in the least. She was just about to turn around and run off, when he spoke.

  “Can I help you?”

  He didn’t sound like he wanted to help. He sounded as menacing as he looked.

  “Where am I?” she said, unable to conjure up any kind of friendly tone.

  “Earth.” His tone was flat, even ironic. “Twenty-first century Earth.”

  Hannah, too tired to find him even remotely funny, tried again. “I just need some directions and I’ll be out of your hair.”

  Or beard.

  He eyed her for another moment. Then he stepped back and opened his door wider. “Come on in.”

  Come in? Was he fucking serious?

  “I don’t need to come in,” Hannah said. “I just need directions.”

  Scary Mountain Man hesitated for a moment, then gave a slight nod, like he could actually understand why a lone woman wouldn’t accept an invitation in
to a creepy bearded man’s house. “Where’re you headed?”

  “Evergreen.”

  He scowled. “You’re more or less in Evergreen. How’d you get lost out here? Were you out on the trails all day?”

  She nodded. “My GPS crapped out on me.”

  He looked down at her legs. “You’re injured.”

  She glanced down. Her black running tights were ripped at both knees, one of which had blood seeping from it. Suddenly, she noticed pain in her hands and elbows. They too were scraped up. Jesus, she was a mess. “I tripped. I’m fine.”

  Those big dark eyes peered into hers for a moment. “If you give me a sec, I can drive you home.”

  Hannah gritted her teeth, her patience wearing thin. This guy! She wouldn’t go inside his home, but she was going to get into his car? Yet, something—and she had no idea what—told her she probably wouldn’t be in any real danger in this guy’s vehicle. That wasn’t the real issue.

  The real issue was that she didn’t need a ride home, damn it. She’d gotten herself into this, and she would get herself out, on her own and without help. She hated asking for directions, hated asking for help. She didn’t even like using her GPS, and only kept it for emergencies. If she’d known the piece of crap was going to die after only a few months, she’d have paid more attention. Besides, despite being dead tired, she still had enough energy to run the rest of the way, and she was determined to. It would toughen her up for the High Peaks 100.

  “I appreciate the offer,” she said, trying to curtail her sarcasm. “But I don’t need a ride home. I need directions.”

  He crossed his arms and arched that eyebrow again. “You’re fatigued, you’re dehydrated,” he flicked her empty hydration pack, “and you’re cold and probably close to getting hypothermia—”

  “I’m fine—”

  “You’re not fine,” he retorted, eyes flashing with anger. “Stop being stubborn and let me drive you home.”