Rock Mountain Man (Men on a Mission Book 6), page 3
A Peeping Tom dressed like a backwoods hick. Feeling stupid, I suddenly understand why Dad advised me to clean up.
She’s gorgeous.
But that doesn’t mean she’s a decent person.
Not that I am, either. Look at me. Spying on a naked chick like a skeezy perv.
Moved permanently back to the mountain to get away from the pull of porn, perversion, narcissistic society and degeneracy in general… and look at me now.
Part of me is disgusted with myself, but another part…the animal part I guess…is perked up…and…yeah. Interested.
Naturally.
But I’ve learned a thing or two about self-control.
I move down from the rocky outcropping and take a seat on a fallen log.
Still, my dick gives a couple throbs as I struggle with myself.
Just sit here and wait…just sit, give the girl time to finish her swim, and calm the fuck down.
Think about work. Think about chopping logs…chop. Chop.
Chop.
Chopchopchopchop.
It’s starting to work. Partly, it’s because chopping ain’t sexy, that’s for sure.
But partly it reminds me of all the clearing me and my Dad have done on our properties abutting the mountain road.
Had to make room for those new cell towers going up, and all the money the telecoms are paying to lease the land from us.
New technology, with all its good and bad sides, coming up Rocky Peak. Marching up the mountain-side, bringing connections to all the little towns and hamlets and isolated properties up here…and bringing in all that rental income from the telecom company for me, Dad and my brothers.
Not that we need it. We have all the money we need from our other investments and business concerns.
That’s why sometimes I wish we hadn’t done it. Sometimes I think we’d be better off to stay isolated.
It’s good money, too. The kind that will last, not just for my lifetime, but maybe my children’s, too.
If I ever meet someone I’d want to have kids with. I hope so but, it’s not looking good.
We need the towers to attract people anyway. Because without them, no young people will want to live here. There’ll be no opportunities for telecommuting, no way for young families to stay connected to the wider world while they raise their kids in the mountains.
Without people to come and live and work here, and have families, these little communities are doomed anyway.
No kids, no future. It’s that simple.
But my problem remains: Who can I trust? Who can I have kids with in this age of skyrocketing divorce rates?
Depressing thoughts, but they sure did the trick to calm down old Johnson in my pants.
The squatter chick must be done her bathing by now. Time to go see what level of crazy we’re dealing with here.
Standing, I dust off the seat of my jeans and start back down the path.
“Halloooo!” Standing at the edge of the clearing just under the trees, I wait for a response.
My call silences the birds for a few seconds. Slowly, they start their chirping again.
The breeze blows through the trees, then stills. Bugs buzz in the bushes, some coming to fly around my head before zinging off again.
From the near distance, comes the soothing sound of the little stream…and what was that?
The snap of a twig…some rustling.
Something–or someone–trying to be quiet, sounds like. Coming from the brush around the back of the cabin.
I take a few more steps forward, then stop, staying in the treeline.
“Halloo? Anyone home?”
The birds pause again, followed by a few tentative chirps.
Very, very quiet rustle…pause…rustle…snap.
Silence.
Oh shit. That could be a big predator. Bears are notoriously silent in the bush…as are big cats.
A few more moments go by, the sounds of nature filling the air. The wind changes, but it doesn’t bring any new smells.
I take a small step, not wanting to break the cover of the trees, lifting my hands to my mouth in preparation to call out again.
Rustle…rustle…snap.
That was coming from behind me. Turning quickly, I see nothing.
Then I freeze, a cold feeling blooming in my stomach.
Whatever is coming at me is trying to use my own noise as cover.
The stalking pattern of a big cat, for sure.
Simultaneously, I hear a tiny crack from somewhere in the tree branches above.
Fuck!
Mountain lions. They’re elusive but they are definitely in these mountains. Hikers get attacked or stalked sometimes. It happens.
And it would have to be a very hungry cat to be stalking a guy my size. Unless…it was already here, watching the girl and waiting its chance to attack her.
I look up into the branches. That’s where it’d be, up above, waiting its chance to pounce on unwary prey.
Standing stock-still, I search the tangles of branches above. The shadows and dappled sunlight make perfect camouflage for cats.
There’s nothing to be seen, but then, big cats are masters of concealment. All I can do now is back out into the open, slowly, my hand on my knife, ready to put it into action.
“Stop right there,” comes a low, female voice from somewhere to my left.”
Relief floods my chest, while at the same time, my respect level for this girl ratchets up a notch.
She’s good at moving quietly. And from her voice, I can tell, she means business. “Turn around and walk away or I’ll shank you!”
Shank me?
Shank me?
Oh…shit. Are you kidding me? Now, it’s all I can do not to laugh.
But I’m kind of embarrassed, too. A crazy trespasser chick who talks like she’s in a prison movie… got the drop on me.
On me.
The irony of that, and the whole “shank” thing suddenly becomes too funny and I can’t hold back a laugh.
“Ohhh-kay,” I chuckle, calm and cheerful, raising my hands. “It’s cool. I’m Rock LaLonde, your next-door neighbor. I was just stopping by to…”
Rustle, rustle…the tiniest of sounds. She’s moving again.
“I don’t care who you are! Get off my property!”
“Your property? Uh…I don’t think so. This property belongs to…”
“It’s my property. Get out and stay out!” Now, it sounds like she’s moved a little further to the left. There’s a big maple over there. She must be behind that.
Keeping my hands up, I turn towards it.
“Alright, alright, no problem. Look, my father, Burt, is the one you hitched a ride with yesterday. I don’t want any trouble. Neighbors around here like to check in with each other, that’s all. Look out for one another. I don’t mean you any harm.”
Silence.
“Umm,” I try again, “It’s all good, though. I’ll just go home then, alright? Sorry to bother you, miss.”
Silence.
Taking a few steps back, I drop my hands.
Well, I tried.
At least I can tell Dad I gave it a shot.
Turning, I take a few strides away, then stop. Turning back again, I say, “By the way, miss? I thought you should know. There are mountain lions around sometimes. Bears, too, of course. Grizzlies. But, you sure got the drop on me,” I let out a little chuckle, “so you can probably handle them yourself.”
Silence.
“Okay, well, if you need anything, just follow the road up-mountain. I’m not hard to find. Burt’s usually around somewhere, too. Oh, and, don’t worry about his dog. He’s loud sometimes, but harmless.”
Silence.
Turning, I stride purposefully away towards the animal track under the trees.
I’m almost there, when…
“Wait…wait!”
I stop and turn around again.
She’s already half-way to my position. She moves fast! And yes, she used my steps to cover her own sounds in the shin-high grass and weeds that grow in the clearing.
That’s the first thing I notice.
The second…?
Up close, she looks as tasty a treat as I’ve ever seen.
Lord, she is fiiiiine!
The dark, shoulder-length hair, still wet, is slicked straight back from the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen.
Oval-shaped, with a wide, generous pair of lips, a long but delicate nose, and wide-set doe eyes set under thick, naturally arched brows.
Not even the frown currently pulling those brows together can do anything to detract from her stunning looks.
But boy do I ever wish I’d listened to my Dad.
Her eyes scan my naked torsom pauses on my tats, then they drop down to take it my ratty old work pants.
Fuck.
Her shirt, a bit damp from her swim, clings to her bra-covered breasts fetchingly. She’s tall, willowy, and her too-large jeans don’t hide her lovely slender legs.
The jeans are too short as well. Almost looks like she’s wearing someone else’s clothing.
And she’s barefoot. No wonder she’s so quiet when she moves.
Wide hips with a tiny waist draw my eye upwards again, to rest fleetingly on a sliver of a slim, flat belly, revealed by her slightly-rucked-up shirt.
“Hi…I mean, wait, please. I’m sorry! I didn’t, uh, I…” She gestures towards the cabin, causing the knife she’s holding to glint in the sun.
Not a knife, though…a multi-tool with the blade extended.
It’s hard not to smile. Could be deadly, definitely. And hey, she could turn a screw with it once she’s done gutting me.
She sees me checking out at her multi-tool, then looks down at it herself. “Uh, sorry about this,” she says, then quickly folds it and tucks it into the pouch I saw earlier, now belted around her waist.
Now, she takes a step back.
“That’s okay,” I say quietly. “I understand. You’re alone out here?”
She stares at me, starts to shake her head “no”.
Then, she pauses, lets her shoulders sag, then nods “yes”.
Watching me uncertainly.
“Are you…did you come up for a holiday, or…?” I leave it open for her to answer as she sees fit.
She shakes her head.
I wait, but she just stands there looking at me.
“Huh. Will anyone else be joining you at some point?”
Taking a few steps towards her makes those light-colored eyes widen and she steps back.
Stopping, I say, “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” keeping my voice soft.
“You could try,” she says, and for the first time, I hear a tremble in her voice.
“Not a chance,” I say, shaking my head firmly. “I don’t hurt women, miss…what’s your name, anyway?”
Swallowing, she says, “Zoey.”
“Well, Zoey, like I said. My name’s Rock. I’m your neighbor, and I would never hurt you. Okay? Pleased to meet you.”
She considers this for a moment, then nods. “Rock? Your name’s Rock?” She tilts her head so prettily, it makes my heart leap, and my cock twitch. “Rock, who lives on Rock Mountain.”
“Yeah, well. That’s my name. This is where I live. Deal with it,” I say, in a friendly way so she knows I’m being playful.
She shrugs, rolls her eyes, then purses her lips in a tight smile.
“It’s French actually,” I continue. “Spelled R-O-C-H. Pronounced the same though. Um, obviously.”
The corners of her lips turn up quick, giving me a glimpse of how glorious her full-on smile must be. “Okay…Rock. Of Rock Mountain.” Now, she giggles, and Jesus Christ!
The sound trills in my ear, the most pleasing feminine giggle I’ve ever heard. Man!
“Pleased to meet you too,” she adds.
We stand and regard each other solemnly in the mid-morning sun.
It’s all I can do not to let my eyes drop to her chest–and those gorgeous breasts that I know are hiding under her shirt–and then travel down that shapely body. But I control myself, not wanting her to feel threatened.
“Zoey…”
“My mother told me about your family,” she starts, at he same time as me. “A little bit, I mean. She…she said you’re good neighbors. It’s just that, um. I…she died, and I was…I had to…I guess I kind of forgot. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“Your mother died? I’m sorry to hear that. Mine passed away too. Long time ago, when I was only small.”
Again, a moment of silence, her eyes searching my face. Then, “I’m sorry to hear that, too.” She looks down at her feet, then back up at me. “So, uh…Burt’s your dad, then?”
Now it’s my turn to nod, offering her a quick smile with it.
She stares at me for a long moment. “I see the resemblance. You’re both built like brick shit-houses, for starters.” Then she smiles, and the smile turns into a mini-giggle, and all of it lasts for maybe three seconds before her face takes on that solemn look again.
But…holy fuck, that’s it.
I’m done.
Her smile is so beautiful, her giggle, so goofy and light, it changes her whole face, and the way it changes her face lights my heart up so much, it almost kind of hurts.
In such a good way.
What the hell?
And I can’t help but laugh too, and I can’t help but step towards her again, drawn by her; not just the sunniness of that smile and the giddy feeling her short, light giggle brings out in my chest… but by her solemn beauty and just…her mystery.
When I step towards her, her eyes widen and she takes a breath, but she stands her ground, folding her arms in front of her nervously.
Her eyes stay on mine, watchfully.
Coming a bit closer, I stop at a respectful distance. “You said you own this property? So, your mother was…”
“Janice Donal. Or, well, that was her married name. Zachs is her maiden name. Chester and Nelly were my grandparents. Er, obviously.”
“Ahhh, I see. And so, you inherited the property when your mother passed away?”
“Yes. But…” Another pause, another anxious examination of my face.
“But…?” I prompt.
“But no one can know. I’m hiding. Hiding out, you could say. If my aunt finds out I’m here, she might come and kill me.”
Chapter Four
Zoey
“Kill you? What?” Rock says, frowning his disbelief.
My heart sinks. Why did I say that? And, to the first person I see?
My nerves must be even more shot than I thought.
“Okay, okay. Maybe not, kill me,” I say, hastily. “But if that’s what it takes for her to get what she wants, I’m afraid she’ll try,” I say, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. “Look Rock, you don’t know what I’ve been through. Not that it’s your business, okay?”
“Okay, okay. Don’t have a conniption,” he says, amiably enough. But he’s still skeptical. It almost seems like he’s trying not to laugh.
“Don’t have a what? Ugh, never mind. I’m telling you: My aunt, who I lived with after both my parents were dead, is not a nice person. She might go to any length to take this property…if she thinks she can.”
Rock shakes his head as he tries to process all this, examining my face. “Your father’s dead, too?” His frown returns, his hands go to his hips, and his head tilts just a bit, asking the question with his body language.
And what a nice body it is. Lean, and muscular, and…very attractive. He looks fit, and strong, with arms the size of my thighs, nearly.
A strong, handsome face, too. His hair is sweaty and tousled right now, but it’s neatly cut and his beard is well-groomed. Hair and beard both are reddish-colored, with golden highlights glinting in the sun.
“Yes. He died a few years before my mother. He was killed on the job when I was ten. After that, Izzy–my aunt, my dad’s sister–took me and my mother in. My dad…he never liked Izzy. Said she was mean, even when they were small. He said to be careful around her. Anyway, it was supposed to be a temporary arrangement, but, Mom started having dizzy spells and heart palpitations. The doc ordered electrolytes and bed rest but she never got better.” Swallowing hard, I go on: “She kept going downhill and died when I was fourteen.”
Rock blinks at me, his puzzlement and disbelief plain to see.
“So, are you saying you think your aunt killed your mother? Or had something to do with her death?”
“I…no, not really.” I give him an embarrassed look. “The doc said she had hyperkalemia from latent kidney disease. She was always trying out extreme diets and stuff but nothing helped. I think once we moved in with Izzy, it got worse because of how stingy Izzy is with food. But, no. My mom was worth more to Izzy alive than she was dead.”
I sigh, put my own hands on my hips and look away, chewing my lip and trying to figure out how much energy I should waste on trying to convince him. The whole thing sounds nuts, even to me.
And Izzy is nuts, without a doubt. But I already learned that it’s hard to convince people that a pillar of the community like Isobel Krogan–long-time animal and people rescuer, renowned peace-loving hippy, earth-mother, respected foster parent and “savior” of me and my mother–is actually kind of a demon behind closed doors.
Bitter experience tells me to save it, just keep it to myself. And the way Rock’s staring at me…I can’t tell if he believes me or not.
Probably not.
“Nevermind,” I say. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Just…can’t you please just not mention to anyone that I’m here?”
His frown deepens as he shifts his weight from one foot to another.
“I…well, my Dad knows. He might have mentioned it already.”
“Who would he have told?”
“I don’t know. Anyone. A neighbor, my brothers. It’s rare, but sometimes homeless people come up from the cities and squat. Like I told you, people around here look after each other.”
“Well, I can look after myself,” I say. But my voice sounds doubtful, even to me.
He smiles kindly, and the way his eyes squinch up make me feel nice. Hopeful, somehow.
