by Nicole Casey
DEEP IN THE MOUNTAINS
A Mountain Man Romance
NICOLE CASEY
CONTENTS
1. Ayla
2. Laz
3. Ayla
4. Ayla
5. Laz
6. Ayla
7. Laz
8. Ayla
9. Laz
10. Ayla
11. Ayla
12. Laz
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Read an Excerpt from Accidental Soulmates - A Vegas Accidental Marriage Romance
Prologue
1. Julian
2. Kennedy
3. Julian
4. Kennedy
Also By Nicole Casey
About the Author
Copyright © 2019 by Nicole Casey. All Rights Reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronically, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the proper written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.
1
Ayla
The invitation was innocent enough, something I’d seen hundreds of times before. Adorned with emoticons and lewd innuendo, I was being asked to attend a party.
It came through in my junk mail, an evite from Gennifer to celebrate her bachelorette party in the mountains of Tennessee over the Labor Day long weekend. I had received it over a week earlier but that was how long it had taken for me to get around to clearing out my junk folder and Gennifer wasn’t even in my contact list for her emails to make it through without being marked as spam.
That was how surprising the email was to read.
I read the details carefully, my green eyes studying the words like I was seriously contemplating what it said before promptly deleting it.
Gennifer Carling was not a close friend of mine. In fact, she wasn’t a close friend of anyone’s. I was sure she had only invited me to fill her quota at the resort in Gatlinburg. I had to wonder if she wasn’t coming to terms with the fact that everyone loathed her as she tried to plan her upcoming nuptials.
It didn’t much matter to me—I didn’t owe the brash brunette anything. I barely knew her but to avoid her at social functions and I wouldn’t lose any sleep at ignoring the invitation.
I was not about to spend four days with a bunch of women in the middle of Hicksville where there was nothing but alcohol and petty bitterness stemming from years of rich-girl oppression. I’d done enough of those weekends with people I liked—or at least tolerated.
It’s a little-known fact about the filthy rich—they are actually very stingy. The more money they have, the more they struggle to hoard it. There was no doubt in my mind that I had only been asked to go to lessen the cost of the weekend.
Sorry, Genny, I thought, clicking the “delete” icon on my screen. You’ll have to find another sucker to endure you and your fake friends over the weekend.
Perhaps I was having a “coming of age moment.” A few months ago, I might have agonized about deleting the email. That day, I felt almost smug when it disappeared with the other messages from Nigerian princes and mattress offers.
No sooner had I eliminated the email from my view did my iPhone ring and I grimaced, wondering who had the gall to call me instead of texting.
My consternation turned to mild confusion as I recognized Kennedy Bryant’s number. I had never known her to call me for anything—not that I was opposed to hearing her voice. She was one of the few people I would answer the phone for and not let it go to my voicemail graveyard.
“Hey,” I said, my brow furrowing. “What’s wrong?”
Kennedy grunted slightly in greeting and I had to smile, knowing she was about to go off on a diatribe about her too-full life.
“What’s right?” she sighed. “I’ve got a set of toddlers who think potty training is a joke. A joke, Ayla. They’re ganging up on me! My five-thousand-dollar office rug is stained in yellow and I’m afraid to replace it because I know those little demons will just do it again!”
I snickered, unable to relate to her problems of motherhood in any way but hearing her complain was always amusing. She loved those impish twins, even if she drove my friend crazy.
“Sounds like a typical Wednesday to me,” I remarked.
“I need a break,” Kennedy sighed. “I’m ready to sell them to the gypsies—can we say gypsies anymore? Never mind, I’m on a rant. I don’t care about being PC at this moment. I’ll reserve that for the tenants who are driving me insane.”
The smile on my face grew wider. It sounded like Kennedy was just getting warmed up and I sank back in my computer chair to listen.
“Kids will be kids?” I offered uselessly. What else was I supposed to say?
She grunted.
“They have this little twin language, Ayla, and they talk about me. I’m sure of it. Don’t get me wrong. I love them. Julian keeps telling me to hire a nanny and I refuse but I’m at my wits’ end. I’m ready to run for Mexico.”
“Understandably,” I offered, mustering the best sympathetic tone I could given my lack of empathy. I was more amused than I should have been at her misery but Kennedy was always so damned entertaining.
“Which is why you have to tell me that you’re going to Gennifer’s bachelorette weekend,” Kennedy continued and I groaned.
“Oh, Ken, don’t do this to me,” I moaned. “I literally just deleted the evite.”
“No,” Kennedy said flatly. “I don’t accept that as a response.”
“Ken, Gennifer is wretched. That’s why no one wants to hang out with her.”
I didn’t add that I didn’t want the reminder of what my life was about to become. If I were to give it any real thought, I knew that was really why I’d refused.
“Listen, I know you’ve got invitations coming out of your yin yang but between the company and the twins, I have no social life, Ayla. I accepted the offer even before I told Julian I was going but I didn’t really think it through.”
“Then go! Have a weekend off! You deserve it!” I knew my voice was higher than it should be and so did Kennedy.
“You know full well that everyone looks at me like some gold-digging bitch who trapped Julian. I can’t go to this thing without backup.”
“That’s not true!” I lied. “No one sees you like that. You wouldn’t have been invited if Gennifer saw you that way.”
I was a terrible liar and Kennedy knew it.
“Ayla…” She moaned. “Don’t make me stay home with my own children when there are women drinking and partying and enjoying life somewhere. If you were asking me to go, I would!”
I didn’t remind her that she wanted to go and I sure as hell did not. I tried a different tactic.
“Ken, it’s the long weekend. Surely you can think of something better to do with your time than spend it with a bunch of drunken bridesmaids.”
“I can’t!” Kennedy howled. “That’s why I’m begging you to go too!”
I inhaled sharply. I could clearly hear the desperation in her tone and as much as I wanted to refuse, the idea was starting to grow on me, now that I knew Kennedy was going.
She wasn’t like the other women I’d known my wh
ole life, women like Gennifer. In fact, I had once been close friends with Julian’s step-sister, Eloise. Kennedy had struggled her entire life before marrying Julian. She was down-to-earth, unspoiled, even though Julian did his best to shower her with the best the world had to offer. She was a breath of fresh air in my charmed, stale life and I knew I should jump at the opportunity to spend time with her.
“Are you still there?” Kennedy sighed. “Please don’t tell me you hung up on me.”
“I didn’t,” I laughed. “I’m just weighing out the consequences of saying yes.”
“Listen,” Kennedy muttered. “I solemnly swear not to talk about my kids all weekend if you agree.”
“I like hearing about your kids!” I fibbed.
“If shit gets too tense, we’ll both leave, together,” Kennedy continued as if I hadn’t spoken.
“Aw, Ken…”
“Is that a yes?”
I sighed deeply.
“All right,” I mumbled. “I’ll go but seriously, if it gets too heavy, I want out of there, no questions asked.”
“Have I told you how much I love you?” Kennedy breathed and I thought I could actually hear an adoring lilt to her voice.
“Not nearly enough for this,” I joked.
“I do. I love you. I’m going to rain kisses all over your face when I see you next.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” I replied. “I’ve gotta go. I have a date with Damien tonight.”
“Lucky you. How’s that going?” The dryness in her tone was not lost on me. Kennedy had never come right out and said it but she hated my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. Whatever the hell he was to me.
Needless to say, her question was loaded.
“Fine.”
That was the simple answer and to my relief, Kennedy didn’t push it. It likely had something to do with the rising wail of children in the background. Or maybe she already knew and didn’t want to pry.
“All right, I’ll talk to you later. I’ve got to break the news to Julian that he’s got four days of toddler terror ahead of him.”
“Good luck with that. Take a video of his reaction and send it to me.”
“I’ll post it on YouTube.”
We disconnected the call and I rose from my desk to pad across my bedroom and into the dressing closet.
I stared at my reflection in the three-sided mirror which showed off my tall, lean frame from all angles but I was less concerned with how my ass looked in my Parasuco jeans and more interested in what I saw in my face.
Auburn hair framed my heart-shaped face in stylish layers, flattering my wide, upturned eyes. I saw a pretty girl in my reflection, one with full lips and high cheekbones, a girl who had been blessed with everything the world had to offer since the day she was conceived.
I had it all—beauty, wealth, some might argue, intelligence, even if I spent a lot of my time second-guessing my existence.
I lived in a penthouse condo overlooking Biscayne Bay and drove a Mercedes S class.
I had a man who liked me enough to talk about marriage in an off-handed, business-like way in the form of pillow talk whenever we were “seeing” one another.
And I was miserable.
That was the real reason I didn’t want to go to Gennifer’s getaway. I didn’t need the reminder that I was Gennifer, resigned to a life that had already been carved out for her. The only difference between Gennifer and me was that I could still see the unjustness of the situation. She had swan dived into her privilege and I still fought with it every single day.
Poor little rich girl, I snarled at myself, spinning away from the glass in a fan of silken hair. Guilt swept over me like it always did when I got like this.
This weekend away would be good for me and I had a month to prepare for it.
Kennedy would keep me humble.
* * *
When the day came a month, almost to the day, later, Kennedy’s good mood was not proving infectious—it was becoming annoying. Each day leading up to the departure day had filled me with apprehension.
It had been her idea to drive to Tennessee, despite my desire to fly.
“It’s a fourteen-hour drive!” I had protested but Kennedy had not wanted to hear my arguments.
“Road trip!” she bellowed. At first, I hadn’t been opposed. I was single again—Damien had called it quits in his usual, “I-need-to-focus-on-work” manner. It happened once every three or four weeks. I knew that was code for “I’m-dating-a-stripper” and he’d be texting me with his tail between his legs in a week or two when he was either tired of her or he caught her stealing from him.
And like the moron I am, I’ll take him back.
It sounded weak, I know but the truth was, Damien was the devil I knew. It was just easier to deal with him than go through the entire process of finding another playboy to date. They were really all the same—egotistical, rich and too-handsome for their own goods. At least with Damien I knew exactly what I was getting.
And Dad likes him enough.
I supposed I’d never been overly attached to Damien in the first place but in our circles, love was an illusive thing.
God, I lived a life where I had to worry if my father liked my boyfriend. God forbid I marry the wrong guy from a business standpoint.
“We can split the driving,” Kennedy chattered as they piled into Julian’s Tesla. I wondered if my mood hadn’t worsened by the understanding that Kennedy was going on this trip to escape her perfect life.
She had everything. A man who adored her, a set of ridiculously adorable children. Sure, she might have a busy life but at least it was filled with love.
I couldn’t imagine in a million years that Damien would let me take his prized car to travel across two states under any circumstances.
And I’m supposed to marry him, according to everyone.
I forced myself not to get sucked into the dismal mood which was plaguing me. I already had a bad feeling about the upcoming weekend and I knew my attitude wasn’t going to make things better.
As if reading my mind, Kennedy paused as she slammed the trunk and peered at me speculatively.
“You really don’t want to do this, do you?”
I sighed and forced a smile.
“It’s fine,” I replied. “Damien and I broke up—again.”
She widened her eyes and made a commiserating noise.
“He’s such a jackass. When is he going to put on his big-boy pants and realize that he’s got an amazing woman in you?”
“Maybe he’s not ‘the one’,” I heard myself say and I had to admit, it was shocking to hear me speak the words aloud. Of course he wasn’t “the one.” That entire concept was an illusion, orchestrated by Hallmark cards and the Lifetime network. There were only men better suited for the family than others. In hundreds of years, nothing had changed about the idea of marriage except the pretend notion of “free will” and “love”. Women still wedded for money and security, men to enhance their own agendas. Or at least that was the way it worked in our world.
Not for the first time, I found myself envying the poorer classes.
I have no idea why I had even said that out loud but Kennedy didn’t seem fazed by my confession.
“If he’s making you fight for his affections, he probably isn’t,” she agreed and I smothered a snort. Of course Kennedy would say something like that—she had been brought up with the idea that marriage was supposed to be between two people who actually cared about one another.
Still, my foul sentiments faded slightly and I climbed into the passenger side, Kennedy taking the driver’s seat.
This was the reason I had agreed to go on the retreat—Kennedy’s down-to-earth demeanor would keep me from going all Rose Dewitt-Bukater from “Titanic.” There would be no Jack Dawson to pull me back from the rails.
Not that I was literally inclined that way but sometimes, I wondered if we weren’t all pawns in some master matrix somewhere.
I was too young to be having a
midlife crisis.
“I don’t want to think about him this weekend,” I said and Kennedy grinned.
“Exactly!” she replied. “This weekend is all about girl power, am I right?”
I had to laugh.
“Something like that,” I demurred. I hoped I’d snap out of it before we got to the resort.
It promised to be an idyllic drive and I certainly couldn’t complain about the company. Even in the depth of my funk, Kennedy’s bright disposition was nothing short of charming and when she synched her phone to start a playlist through the Bluetooth, I settled back on the leather seat to stare out the window.
“How’s Eloise?” I asked randomly, unsure of how the question even popped into my head. “I haven’t seen much of her in the past couple years.”
“We keep our distance,” Kennedy replied, a slight twitch in her jaw. “Given the history.”
I was instantly apologetic. I knew how her sister-in-law had tried to sabotage her relationship with Julian.
“Understandable,” I said quickly. “Sorry I brought it up.”
“Nah,” Kennedy laughed. “It’s not as sore a spot as it was. I know you two were friends.”
Friends. What a weird word. Were any of the women in my circle really my friends or were we all a bunch of cardboard cutouts, shaped by our birth? Had I ever known a real friendship?
And now we enter the philosophical part of the drive.
It was hard to say when I’d started doubting every aspect of my existence. Maybe it was after the tenth time Damien and I had broken up, the time I had found a picture of him lip-locked with that model from Brazil on his fake Instagram account.
Perhaps it was the day my father had called me into his office and told me that my brother, Ryland was going to get all the shares of the company when Dad finally died but that I would “be kept in comfort.” As if I was some Regency dowager duchess who needed a man or an inheritance to keep me afloat.
I was Ivy league educated, even if I did use the sizeable trust fund to subsidize a lifestyle I didn’t really need.
I couldn’t say when I’d realized I was just floating through my life, like I lived in a bubble or on a cloud, but suddenly, I felt like my eyes were opening.