Mountain Man

by Jules Barnard

  When I look up, he’s staring, with a curious intensity in his eyes.

  I glance at the horizon for grounding. Should I leave? Say I need to use the bathroom? This pull is infuriating—undeniable and addictive. And what if he brings up the other night? My humiliation will be complete.

  Lewis looks up and raises his hand. I peer in the direction he’s gazing. Zach is jogging toward us in navy board shorts, no shirt. Two women in bikinis, somewhat older, watch him pass. Zach’s not as tall as Lewis, but he’s cut like an athlete and good looking.

  Lewis slaps Zach’s hand in the air and Zach ruffles the top of Nessa’s head. “Hey, kid.” He nods at me with a grin. “Gen.”

  Nessa is hot in her tiny black bikini. Her frame is petite and she hasn’t an ounce of fat on her body, but Zach’s endearment is what a guy says to his sister, almost like he’s purposely putting her in the friend zone. Nessa told me once that she’s never dated Zach or his friends. It blows my mind that one of them hasn’t tried to date her.

  Lewis sits beside me, his warm arm brushing mine, and my breath catches. “Feeling okay after the other night?”

  Of course he brings it up.

  I glance at him. Big mistake. Shoulders curled in, arms wrapped around his knees, his lips are inches from mine, the scent of sunscreen and Lewis penetrating my senses. His gaze catches on my mouth. Because I’m staring at his? “Sorry about that.” I wipe the sand off my legs, keeping my hands busy. “I was a mess.”

  He knocks my shoulder with his, which launches me into Nessa. It was a nudge, but he’s huge. Nessa rolls with the motion, intent on her Rum Runner conversation with Zach. “You were funny,” Lewis says, concentrating on the lake, the corner of his mouth turned up.

  “I doubt that.”

  He reaches out his hand, palm up. “Let me see your phone.”

  I cut him a sideways glance. “Why?”

  He blinks as if to say, Don’t be difficult. I dig for my phone in my tote and hand it to him. He scrolls to my contacts and I lean over, taking the opportunity to inhale because he smells amazing.

  He types in a number.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Don’t drive home when—just call me next time. I work late. I’m always up. It’s not a big deal to give you a ride.”

  Is he serious? “Um, I don’t need a chauffeur. I hardly ever get drunk.” Try never. I can’t remember the last time.

  He shrugs. “Okay.” He looks serious and I can’t tell if he believes me or not.

  “I’ll call if I need a ride.” Because, shit, he offered. Gorgeous guy picking me up and delivering me home in the middle of the night? I’m not going to turn that down. Which should worry me. I’m dropping those blinders I said I had on when it came to men. Or maybe they came off the moment I set eyes on Lewis. Trouble…this is big, big trouble. I can feel it.

  He stands and pulls me up by the hand. “Come on.” He walks toward the beach.

  Nessa and Zach are deep in conversation. “Where?” I say, certain I shouldn’t go anywhere with him, not even in public. Not after the way my palm just zinged inside his hand.

  “Zach’s new paddleboard. We’re breaking it in. I’ll take you for a spin.”

  “Together?” The board looks narrow and he might as well be naked, given the amount of clothing he’s wearing and the direction of my thoughts.

  “You sit. I’ll do the work.” He picks up the paddle and shoves the board off the beach until it bobs and sways in the light waves.

  “I don’t have a bathing suit on,” I point out.

  He looks back. “You don’t trust me?” He’s asking in jest, as if I’m questioning his ability to keep me dry, but there’s a serious undertone, as though he knows I don’t trust him and he’s drawing it out and into the open.

  In some ways, I do trust Lewis, which is confusing. So many men haven’t deserved my trust, and especially not Lewis. But despite the fact that he’s in a relationship and has a tendency to flirt with me, I don’t think he’s a bad person. He seems like a hard worker and a good friend, and he puts up with Mira—the guy deserves a medal.

  I move toward him, not answering the question, because no matter what I believe, this is not something I want to discuss.

  Lewis holds the board in place with his foot. “Climb on your knees for balance.”

  Against my better judgment, I actually do as he says. I slip off my shoes onto the dry sand, enter the water, and kneel on the board. We’re surrounded by families at the beach; what’s the worst that can happen?

  The surface sinks as Lewis steps on behind me. With each stroke of the paddle, we cut through the water until we’re beyond the dock and the ropes that block off the swimming area.

  The water out here is darker, but clear. I can still see the bottom of the lake, though that’s deceptive because I know it’s deep.

  “You want to give it a try?”

  I glance back, and my gaze snags on his smooth chest before flittering to his face. I turn my head around before I get dizzy from the view of him. Bracing my hands on the board, I slowly rise. Lewis inches closer, the heat from his body singeing my skin not covered by the T-shirt. His arms loop over my head and he passes me the paddle.

  “This thing’s not steady with two adults.” His hands drop to my hips. “I’ll hold on to you to keep us balanced.”

  Now he tells me?

  His low, deep voice above my ear, the spread of his fingers on my hips, have my arms shaking. I fight the sensation, because, dammit, I’m more coordinated than this, though you wouldn’t know it with him around. I adjust my grip and bend my knees into the shallow waves, making slow, steady progress across the water.

  Lewis’s fingers splay wider and tense with the rise of a large swell. Heat ripples through my stomach and thighs. “Where’s Mira?” I say irritably, focusing on his hands instead of the paddle.

  He’s silent for a moment, his fingers loosening the only acknowledgment he heard me. “Not sure.”

  “You don’t know where your girlfriend is?”

  “My what? Mira’s not my girlfriend… It’s complicated.”

  Of course it’s complicated. I dip the paddle and move us out farther. “You don’t have to talk about it. I get it.”

  “No, you don’t. Mira… She’s had it rough. I know she comes off testy sometimes, but she’s vulnerable and sweet when you know her.”

  And he’s there to protect her, his beautiful not-a-girlfriend. God, why did I ask?

  “To answer your question, I haven’t seen Mira for a couple of days.” His voice tightens. “I think she’s with her mother.”

  That makes him angry, Mira being with her mother?

  He clears his throat, but it’s forced, as if to change the subject. “What about you? What’s your family like?”

  “My family?” Not getting into a conversation about Chantell. “Complicated.”

  “I see.” His hands tighten on my hips again. A spear of arousal hits me in the sweet spot.

  I spin around. “What’s up with you?” Did I just say that?

  He glances above my head. “You should keep—”

  “Don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t do. You need to pay more attention to your ‘it’s complicated’ relationship and the signals you give off—ooof.”

  I’m falling. Onto Lewis.

  This time, instead of catching me, he’s going down too.

  I let go of the paddle a split second before it tangles with our bodies. The cold of the water stings my skin in counterpoint to the heat of Lewis’s chest as he envelops me in his arms. I cling to the devastating warmth at the same time I push it away, my instinct to kick to the surface stronger.

  I breach the water a second before Lewis pops up, his head flinging back a spray. My teeth chatter. I’m gasping from shock, from cold.

  He chuckles.

  “This isn’t funny.”

  His mouth turns down a fraction, but his smile doesn’t completely fade. He swims to me and wr
aps his arm around my waist, pulling me to his warm chest.

  I can’t catch my breath, and it has nothing to do with the water temperature and everything to do with the rightness of his body against mine. Why does he do this to me?

  And how is he not freezing his balls off? His body is like a heater.

  Lewis’s legs swish below mine to hold us up, the paddleboard drifting off. He swims us in the direction of shore, my body tucked above his like he’s my life raft.

  “I can swim on my own.”

  “Feel free to,” he says without releasing me.

  I stay right where I am—wrapped in his arms. Pathetic, but shit, a woman is only so strong, and my man candy is holding me.

  After a couple minutes, his legs touch down, though it’s still too deep for me to stand. He gently pushes a lock of hair out of my mouth with the side of his palm, his gaze flickering over my face. “You okay?”

  “No,” I say, embarrassed and unhappy about how good he feels. I look in his eyes. He must see something there, because his embrace tightens. “Sorry I made us fall. I should have paid attention.”

  He lifts me higher out of the water. My boobs smash his chest, the roundness on full display thanks to the wet T-shirt I’m sporting. He grins. I swear he’s enjoying this. “Not a problem. I wanted to cool off.” The temperature of his body and the look in his eyes indicate that the water hasn’t done its job.

  I smile too, though, because I can’t not with him looking at me like that—all happy and goofy and so different from the stoic Lewis I’ve seen.

  I wrap my arms around his neck. What else am I gonna do? I can’t stand without my head going under. I could swim in, but that seems like a lot of effort. “It’s freezing.”

  He runs a wide palm up and down my back, his smile fading, heated gaze scorching me, then flickering to my mouth.

  What are we doing?

  “The shore,” I choke. Get me alone with this guy and things happen. “We should dry off.”

  After a noticeable pause, he nods and walks me in until I touch bottom. I turn toward the beach.

  “Gen”—I glance back—“you’re wrong about me,” he says with sober eyes. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong.” He dives under the water and swims for the abandoned paddleboard and paddle.

  What does that mean? I’m not wrong. I’ve seen this before. Shit, I’ve been in it before with the A-hole—well, not exactly this, but close enough. Though I have to admit, nothing has ever felt the way it does with Lewis.

  I wade the rest of the way to the beach, irritated and wet. He said Mira isn’t his girlfriend, but there’s something he’s not admitting to, and with my luck, it’s worse.

  Nessa glances up from her chat with Zach and her mouth parts. She stands abruptly and grabs my towel, jogging to the water’s edge. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “Just cold.”

  I don’t bother explaining what happened because that seems obvious. I wrap the Authentic Beach Bum Hawaii towel my mom bought me years ago around my shoulders.

  I hate this towel. That’s why I keep it in the trunk. I should get rid of it. My mom missed my elementary school graduation and end-of-year ballet performance because of her Hawaii trip. “I can’t renege, darling,” she explained to me at the time. “This is an important business trip.” I was too young to understand what that meant, but as I got older, I wondered about the kind of arrangements my mother had with the men she dated. They were all rich, powerful, and aloof. The man she traveled to Hawaii with wore expensive suits and barely registered my presence when he picked her up once a week for dates.

  I scrub my legs, my chest, attempting to wipe away the memories and diminish the wet T-shirt look. With the lacy bra I chose this morning, it’s definitely nippy out.

  “Nice one,” Zach shouts as Lewis approaches from the water. “What happened, man?”

  Lewis runs a hand through his wet hair, shaking rivulets off his arm and smiling down at the sand. His gaze flickers to me. “Large boat wake came when I wasn’t looking.”

  When he gazes at me like that, all secretive and sexy, I can’t focus, let alone be mad at him. I wasn’t looking. I lost control and confronted Lewis. It felt good to tell him what I thought—aside from the dunking backlash. I still can’t believe I did it. He just… he incites me. Why does the one person who makes me feel anything have a girlfriend—or a not-a-girlfriend. Whatever. Why is he so complicated?

  I grab my green tote and pull my wet hair into a hair band. “Nessa, I gotta change. Do you mind if we go?”

  “Not at all.”

  Zach high-fives Nessa. “See you later, pipsqueak.” She cringes, but he doesn’t appear to catch it.

  Lewis watches me collect my things. It drives me crazy and I pretend not to notice.

  “Thanks for the paddleboard ride,” I tell him. That sounds stupid, given what happened, but I have nothing better and I feel like I should say something.

  He nods and takes a deep breath, like he’s bracing for something, or trying to hold it back.

  Nessa and I make it to the parking lot before I glance in his direction. Zach is chatting with the blondes who checked him out earlier. Lewis is there too, but his gaze is miles away on the lake.

  Chapter Six

  “Why don’t I call Zach?” Nessa says. “He won’t mind, really. It’s not a big deal.”

  I stare at the steering wheel. This is seriously happening? Because my humiliation wasn’t complete? I sort of thought it was after the club incident. The paddleboard proved me wrong, and now this?

  Fuuuck.

  My AAA membership has expired and my car won’t start—and by won’t start, I mean it’s dead. Won’t turn over, or even cough for me. “Yeah, okay,” I tell her.

  Nessa pulls out her phone and types a text. “Zach’s on his way. He’s still close. See?” She smiles. “No biggie.”

  It is a big deal. A very big deal, because moments later Lewis walks up, along with Zach.

  I stood up to Lewis. Sure, I immediately took a digger, but it was a start at addressing the issue between us. Forced to ask said guy for assistance afterward? Kind of ruins the moment. The dunking in ice-cold water did as well, but this seals it.

  To make matters worse, Lewis is wearing a T-shirt and a baseball hat that hides his eyes. Why does the brim hiding those mysterious eyes make my stomach flutter?

  I roll down the window and Lewis leans across the frame, because, of course, he takes control of the situation, even though we called Zach.

  “Start it up.”

  I turn the ignition and nothing happens.

  He tosses a set of keys to Zach. “Grab the Jeep, will you? I’ve got jumper cables in the back.”

  Zach hands his paddleboard to Nessa, who stepped out of the car when the guys arrived. He laughs when she nearly topples under the weight of the board that’s twice her size. She fumbles with the long paddle, finally balancing both paddle and board in her arms. “Be right back,” Zach calls.

  Lewis strums his fingers lightly along the door, glancing at the interior, the dark eyes that disturb me no longer hidden by the hat when they’re this close. “You leave on a light?”

  Does he think I’m a moron?

  I fell all over the nightclub hammered a few nights ago and dunked us today, so yes, he probably does. “No.”

  Lewis stares like he doesn’t believe me and continues to drum his fingers. I’d like to grab one and pull it back. Incite—that’s what he does. He’s an inciter of women. Look at Mira. She’s so crazy for him, she’s all jacked up.

  A red Jeep roars in front of my car with Zach in the driver’s seat. Lewis walks to the back and returns with cables. He asks me to pop the hood.

  Several minutes later, Lewis and Zach confer in a manly discussion involving subtle nods, gesticulations toward my beater car, and a few glances at Nessa and me after the jumper cables don’t work.

  Lewis opens the driver’s-side door at the same time Zach grabs the padd
leboard from Nessa. “Your car needs a tow.”

  There go last night’s tips. I could ask my mom for money to fix the car, but I won’t.

  “Zach is giving Nessa a ride. I’ll drive you home.” He punches a number in his phone and informs the person on the other line of our location.

  I’m driving with Lewis? Alone? “Shouldn’t I wait for the tow truck?”

  He shoves the phone back in his pocket. “No need. My friend will have it towed to his shop later on. We’ll swing by now and drop off the keys. He’ll call when he figures out what’s wrong with it.”

  I glance at Nessa elbowing Zach playfully as they walk toward the beach, the paddleboard and paddle balanced easily above Zach’s head.

  This is all wrong. “Why is Nessa going with Zach?”

  “He lives near her. It’s easier this way.” Lewis gestures for me to get out of my car. I grab my tote, scoot out, and he closes the car door behind me. I follow him to the Jeep and he opens the passenger-side door.

  I peer in, uncertain, but unable to come up with a better plan. Spending more alone time with Lewis doesn’t seem wise. “What happened to your truck?” I ask.

  “This is my weekend car.”

  Oh, right, because he’s extremely hot, makes enough money to own two cars—one of them a brand-new Jeep—and he’s a Good Samaritan who rescues drunken women and destitute girls with broken-down cars.

  But he has a complicated not-a-girlfriend and that’s the one thing I can’t look past.

  Despite my hesitancy, I go with Lewis. We drop off my keys with the mechanic, and Lewis introduces me to his friend. The guy is nice and promises to pick up my car and contact me within the hour. If I end up getting it fixed through his garage, there’s no charge for the tow, which my savings account appreciates.

  The drive to my place is quiet. Neither Lewis nor I talk, and I’m hyperaware of his every movement. A wide wrist draped across the top of the steering wheel, the elbow of his other arm resting on the center console so close to my side.