Mountain Man

by Jules Barnard

  We pull into the chalet driveway. My legs have turned from weak and incredibly sore into Silly Putty. I ease out of the Jeep and take baby steps to the front door.

  Lewis wraps his arm around my waist again and I don’t protest. “Where’s your bed?” he asks once we’re inside.

  I nod to the door and he opens it, leading me to the edge of the mattress, arm supporting my weight until I’m sitting. “I’ll be right back.”

  The pipes rumble beneath the house. A few minutes later he returns with a glass of water, three Advil, and a plain turkey sandwich. No idea where he found the Advil, though he likely confronted a good deal of tampons and maxipads during the search.

  He glances around my small bedroom, his eyes alighting on the brown and orange seventies coverlet, the scarred wooden nightstands. “No TV? Do you have a book?”

  I’ve humiliated myself enough in front of Lewis. I’m not gonna bust out the OCD vampire paperback. I nod to the Kindle on the nightstand. He grabs it and places it beside the sandwich. I lean back on a pillow and close my eyes, opening them seconds later when I sense him still there.

  “Are you going to be okay?” It’s the way he asks that has my throat tightening, moisture pooling behind my eyes.

  I rub them and smile. “Yeah.” But if he keeps looking at me with concern and caring, and kissing me the way he did, I’m not sure anything will be okay.

  Chapter Fifteen

  For some reason I woke early this morning, and big surprise, I’m still sore. No, sore is not the right word. Debilitated. I’m walking like an old lady.

  “Gen, cookie?” Tyler, Cali’s brother, who’s staying with us for a few weeks, sets a double-double chocolate on the counter—about a mile from where I’m sitting on the couch. He smirks and returns to his laptop at the kitchen table.

  He and Cali like to watch me walk. They think it’s funny.

  I might have tortured them a time or two with my athletic prowess—okay, Cali hundreds of times—however, I fail to find the humor in the situation. “You are cruel. And you don’t even pay rent.”

  Cali calls Tyler the Tahoe bum. He’s a community college biology teacher in Colorado with summers off, and for some reason he decided to crash with us this summer. Tyler’s only a couple of years older than Cali, but he’s so smart he skipped grades and graduated early from both high school and college. None of this is evident in talking to him.

  “Caliii,” I whine. “Make your brother bring me the cookie.”

  Sitting on a patio chair outside the back door, Cali looks up from her sketch. The triangle we form—me on the couch, Tyler in the dining nook, and Cali outside—is about fifteen feet at the farthest point. Even though we’re in separate parts of the house, our place is so small we can still talk to each other.

  She glares at her brother. “Tyler, don’t be an ass. Make yourself useful and carry Gen around or something.”

  “Yeah,” I say, because son of a bitch. Lewis and his conditioning—killing is more like it.

  Tyler tips his chair on two legs, extends his long arm to the counter, and tosses the cookie in my lap.

  Cookie torture aside, I like having him around even though he forces us to watch motocross and other random sports instead of our reality shows. He’s got us using Hulu so he can watch sports live—something about not being able to record his games because he’ll hear the results before he watches them.

  That—that right there. That’s how men rule the world. Women are too accommodating.

  A couple of hours later, Cali leaves for her first day of work. She got the job at Sallee Construction, and now that she has it, I’m not sure how I feel about her working there. I encouraged her to apply, but I forgot there is another Sallee in the house, so to speak. Cali will see Lewis on a regular basis.

  There’s so much I don’t know about Lewis and so much I’m still figuring out. I don’t even know what our kiss meant, or if it meant anything. I totally screwed up the moment with my Drake flashback.

  Nessa comes over after Cali leaves, for a Gen-can’t-walk movie marathon.

  She plops beside me on the couch. “How are you feeling?”

  I lift my legs onto a pillow and let out a sigh. “Like an invalid.”

  “Will you be able to work tonight?”

  “I think?” Not exactly sure how I’ll carry heavy trays all evening. “I’m downing a handful of Advil an hour before I leave and hoping for the best.”

  She glances around. It’s eerily silent in the chalet, which is unusual with Tyler in town. “Where is everyone?”

  “Tyler is out riding his bike, or whatever he does, and Cali started her new job. She’s having orientation this afternoon.”

  Nessa pulls out the DVD for Sixteen Candles. “I’m so happy it worked out at Lewis’s company.” She cues up the DVD player beside the flat screen—the two most expensive objects in the chalet. Cali and I are convinced a dude owns the place, because everything except the electronics is outdated and heinous.

  Nessa’s into eighties classics the way Cali is, which means I’m properly schooled on big hair. Sixteen Candles is one of my favorites. Jake Ryan, anyone? Oh, hell yes.

  Speaking of mysterious, dark-haired, mouth-watering men… “So, Nessa, I’ve been hanging out with Lewis. For our training,” I quickly add. “And I was wondering about his relationship with Mira. Purely for scientific purposes, of course.”

  She smirks. “Of course. His being hot has nothing to do with it.”

  “No, nothing at all.” I smile. “Anyway, what’s with them? He says she’s not his girlfriend, but they seem so—so—”

  “Together?”

  “Yeah, that. Like a couple, with the fighting and the possessiveness, on Mira’s part, anyway. I don’t get it.”

  The microwave beeps, the scent of buttery popcorn filling the air. Nessa continues her valet service and retrieves the steaming bag, holding it away as she peels the top open so as not to steam burn her face.

  “They have a complicated friendship,” she says, and pops a yellow kernel in her mouth. “It’s like”—she munches, her eyes unfocused, as if she’s considering—“all tangled up.” She holds out the bag for me and I grab a handful. “Zach told me once that Lewis was there the day his dad rescued Mira from an abusive home when she was three. Her mom was hooked on drugs and had abandoned her for days. It was a lucky coincidence that his dad was working nearby on a project and found her.”

  My stomach pinches. “Oh my God, a three-year-old?” And I thought my mom was bad.

  Nessa nods. “Yeah, so it’s understandable why Mira has issues. When Lewis and his dad walked in, she went straight to Lewis. He was only a few years older, so that could explain why, but she’s been at his side ever since. Lewis takes his protector role seriously. It’s crazy how much his life revolves around her happiness.”

  He saved her and that’s a good thing, so why does my heart sink? Lewis and Mira aren’t together, but they’re connected in a very profound and important way. All I have is a kiss. One hot, hot kiss.

  “Lewis mentioned he’s only had one girlfriend. I got the feeling he won’t date girls because of Mira.”

  Her eyes soften, as if she understands the direction of my thoughts, which I imagine are transparent. “That sounds about right. I’ve seen him with a couple of women, never the same one. Mira threw a fit the one time he brought a girl around in her presence. It’s always been like that. Zach said Lewis never dated in junior high or high school. Tons of girls liked him. Well, you know—” She waves at me as an example of said women fawning over him. Definitely transparent. “No one questioned why he wanted to stay home and prep for the SATs instead of going to prom, because he had one of the top GPAs. Now that he’s an adult, not much has changed in the romance department. He’s a bit aloof, you know? But I think that’s because of Mira. She turns into the Tasmanian Devil if she senses he’s interested in anyone.”

  Getting mixed up with Lewis was always a bad idea. For a moment, when he s
aid he and Mira weren’t a couple, a spark of hope flared, but his connection to Mira is too big, too important—it’ll never work out. I sensed this, but now I know it for sure. So why, then, did I attack him? And I mean attack.

  I’ve never thrown myself at a guy before. I don’t even fantasize the way some girls do (Cali). Sex is a part of the relationship I expect and, to some degree, bear. But with Lewis, I think about him. Crazy stuff like the way he smells, his eyes, that scar—stopping what we were doing on the top of the cascades was the last thing on my mind, until visions of Drake shocked me out of my hormone haze.

  Nessa shifts toward the television. “So now you know why Mira acts the way she does.” She punches up the volume. “I feel bad for her, but she needs help. Lewis shouldn’t have to give up his life to make sure she’s secure.”

  On the television, Sixteen Candles opens with Molly Ringwald’s Sam, assessing her sweet-sixteen figure in the mirror. Her body hasn’t caught up to where she is emotionally, while mine is a hormone inferno, attacking Lewis before my brain can figure out which side is up.

  A knock sounds at the door.

  Nessa and I stare at each other. “You expecting someone?” she asks.

  “No.” I jump up, and land back on the couch. Damn sore muscles!

  I rock off the cushion and grab the armrest for support, hobbling to see who it is. Nessa shut the blinds for the movie, and a thick layer of Tahoe dust covers the peephole, so they’re no help. I jerk the sticky door open.

  Lewis stands on the other side, holding a small paper bag. He looks me up and down, his expression serious.

  My skin flushes, as if my unruly hormones and thoughts of jumping him on top of the cascades show on my face. He’s in his usual jeans and a plaid button-down—and why is that so hot? I’ve seen Lewis in nothing but board shorts, but there’s something about his plaid shirts that has me fantasizing about slipping my hands underneath to his smooth skin. I want to be the only one who knows what lies below.

  “Hey,” I say, my gaze flickering in Nessa’s direction. I feel like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t. I don’t know why I’m worried. It’s obvious Nessa is on to me.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks.

  In excruciating pain. “Um, sore.”

  He hands me the paper bag. “This should help. Are you working tonight?”

  “Yeah.”

  He grabs the back of his neck. I’ve seen that stance before. He’s nervous or uncertain. “Is that wise?”

  Worried.

  The underlying message with Lewis is never clear. Will I be okay after he destroyed my walking capability on the cascades from hell, or around Drake? “I’ll manage.”

  He nods. The scene where Long Duk Dong says, “No more yanky my wanky,” blares behind us. Lewis raises his eyebrow.

  “Sixteen Candles. Nessa’s here. You want to come in?”

  He looks over my shoulder and nods in greeting to Nessa. “No, I better get going. I was… I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

  All right after the kiss? After he crippled me? What? “I’m fine.”

  “Okay, well, I’ll catch you later, then. Take it easy tonight,” he says, scanning me once before he turns and walks to his car.

  I close the door and return to the couch. If Nessa hadn’t been here, what would have happened? Would he have come in?

  I tuck the paper bag he handed me near my feet. I’ll look inside later, after Nessa leaves. She’s already staring at me with an odd smile on her face.

  “What was that about?”

  “Nothing.” I shake my head, gazing at the movie. “He was making sure he didn’t kill me yesterday training.” Which he kind of did. In more ways than one.

  I’ve kissed him—a kiss to shame all kisses—and I can’t forget.

  The combination of the Tiger Balm that Lewis dropped off and a handful of Motrin staves off the worst of my pain. I smell like a medicine cabinet, but I’ll be able to walk tonight at work.

  Lewis brought me a gift. A stinky, guilt-laced gift, but proof I’m on his mind.

  I’m getting ready for work, blow-drying my hair, when Cali busts into the bathroom.

  I hold a hand to my pounding heart, gripping my roller brush with the other. “Shit, Cali. What the hell?”

  “Sorry.” She flips down the toilet lid and sits on top. “I have to talk to you.” She huffs out a strained breath. “Lewis works at Sallee Construction. He’s the owner’s son.”

  Did I forget to mention that?

  Her eyes narrow. “You don’t actually care for this guy…?”

  Cali doesn’t want me mixed up with Lewis because she thinks things are dodgy with him and Mira. She’s not totally off-base, but I’d like to deal with it on my own. “Leave it alone, Cali.”

  “Gen—”

  I storm out, because I so don’t need this right now. My ass and every muscle I never knew I had hurt. My emotional state isn’t much better off.

  Cali follows, close at my heels. “I was stupid at the start of the summer. I didn’t understand what you were going through, because I’d never been in love. You were more involved with the A-hole than I ever was with Eric. I get that now.”

  She’s so wrong. In comparison to the emotions Lewis stirs, I felt nothing for the A-hole. Lewis makes me feel everything.

  Cali cradles one arm by the couch, rubbing the tip of her nail across her bottom teeth in a rare nervous gesture. “And I don’t want to tell you what to do, because when it comes to this, I’m not as experienced as I thought, but I’m scared for you.”

  I glance at her quizzically, then search my purse on the couch, forgetting a second later what I’m looking for. I shake my head. “Cali, there’s nothing to fear—”

  “I’m worried that I pushed you to date guys before you were ready and now you’re running headfirst into the same situation you escaped.”

  “You’re giving yourself too much credit. I do actually select when and who I want to date, and I told you, the situation with Lewis is not the same as my past relationship. Besides, I’m not in a relationship.” A kiss does not a relationship make.

  I walk inside the bedroom and pull out clothes. Cali watches from the doorway. “Look, I can’t help who I’m attracted to,” I say. “That’s nature, but I’m not planning on repeating the past if that’s what you’re worried about. Even if I did, it wouldn’t be your fault.”

  “Okay. But Mira visited Lewis at work today.” Her words send an ache through my chest. Is that why he didn’t stay this afternoon? “If you’re spending time with him, just—be careful.”

  Lewis and Mira aren’t together, but I don’t understand what they are, not really.

  “I will.” But that’s a lie. I want to be more than friends with Lewis, and that isn’t the safe choice.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I can’t believe Maryanne gave you her pit. She shouldn’t have done that, you know.” Amber’s giant hoop earrings wave like a finger with her words.

  My body hurts and I’m confused as hell about Lewis, our kiss, and what it all means. The last thing I need is Amber nagging me.

  I slam my tray on the counter, startling the bartender. “Well, she did. Get over it.”

  Amber looks at me askance like she’s seeing a stranger. The insanity that turned off my filters at the cascades hasn’t abated. It’s contaminating my every conversation.

  Drake walks up the steps to the lounge, his gaze flickering between Amber and me. Amber ducks away and I’m left standing there, trapped in the icy depths of his gray eyes.

  I hate that my instinct is to lock up around men who have hurt me. It’s what I did when the A-hole showed up, and it’s what I’m doing all over again with Drake.

  Anger burns my chest, stealing my breath. I grab my tray, arms stiff, and return to my customers, tracking Drake as I do.

  He doesn’t approach me. He chats up a group at the front of the lounge, then saunters to the floor, exchanging a few words with one of the
pit bosses. The tension in my limbs eases somewhat, though not entirely. He may have come to talk to customers, but the confidence he exudes speaks volumes. The way Amber scurried off, the way I went still like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car—Drake is in control here.

  He walks past the lounge, almost out of sight, when I catch him hooking his arm around a waitress on her way to the floor. He tugs her into the elevator alcove and they disappear from view.

  I count to twenty, then fifty. The girl doesn’t return.

  My feet move before my head wraps around the notion that I’m going after Drake and the pretty, young waitress I’ve never seen before. I round the corner and Drake has the woman plastered to a wall. He’s gripping her arm and leaning down, talking into her ear. She smiles a tight smile and tries to inch around him. He steps to the side, blocking her.

  “Mr. Peterson.” My voice comes out strong, determined.

  I feel the opposite. I’m wondering what the hell I’m doing. The temper I’ve kept bottled is coming out everywhere, and in full force.

  Drake lifts his head. He doesn’t look back. He releases the girl and she slips past him, glancing apprehensively my way as she passes.

  “Did you miss me, Genevieve?” Drake turns slowly.

  “Not particularly. Do you like touching women who don’t want you?”

  His face reddens, lips compressing. “Funny, I see you’ve returned for more.” He doesn’t move, and I make sure to stay away from his hidey nook. There’s a black orb nearby, but it’s blocked by a palm.

  “I’m going to tell management.” Am I trying to get him to attack me? Obviously, I haven’t thought this rescue thing through.

  I take a step back, but my stupid words trigger Drake into action. He stalks me and I take another step and another. My shoulder bumps the palm in front of the surveillance camera. Drake grabs the side of my neck painfully, dragging me into the shadowed corner I avoided.