by Michelle Fox
Andi stalled, not knowing where to start. “Let’s see. How many ways did I screw up this trip? Jeez, I lost track.” The attentive look on Mac’s face did a number on her emotions. “First, on the drive up here, I didn’t pay attention to the flood warnings. I thought the warnings were directed at the low-lying canyon areas and not the summit. My late start this morning really messed me up because I now know there was no way I could have reached the summit turnout and set up camp before nightfall. I planned to spend the night either camping or in my truck and start hiking the portal trail at sunrise. My mother asked to have her ashes sprinkled on the summit.”
A long sigh escaped him. “Are you prepared for that? You know the running joke, don’t you? Search and Rescue calls it the portal trial. That route has a well-deserved reputation for being treacherous. It starts off easy but gets rough. We rescue hikers every year. There are steep walls and unmarked sections of path with lots of boulder hopping required. The north face is dotted with rivulets of melting snow and mossy rocks. It’s nicknamed the ankle grinder. That’s usually where the helicopter picks them up.”
She knew her answer wouldn’t put her in a good light. “I’ve been warned I couldn’t and shouldn’t do it.” She smacked her hand against her plump thigh. “Especially because of my obvious lack of athleticism.”
“I didn’t mean that. I just want you to know what you’re getting into.”
The unsettling thought occurred that she really did care about his opinion. “My mother said, ‘Sprinkle my ashes on a mountain top.’ She didn’t say which one. The portal trail leads to the highest peak in this range, and it’s the closest to the ski resort where she likely met my father. That’s why I chose it. She didn’t tell me to do something crazy that might get me hurt. I just want the best for her. She sacrificed constantly to make sure I got the best. It wasn’t easy for a single mother with a headstrong daughter. I’m sure I gave her a lot of grief.”
“I can imagine she was very proud of you.”
“Maybe. I’m determined to do it. Once I set a goal, I can’t stop. I figured I’d go slow and hang close to another hiking group.”
“It’s early in the season. There’s still snow on parts of the summit. The mudslide guarantees no one will be driving up this road until it’s cleared. I strongly suggest you come up with another plan.”
“I really had my heart set on the portal trail.” She groaned. “I’ve been looking at pictures of it for weeks. It’s so beautiful, like a stepping-stone to heaven. I suppose it’s a moot point. I’m not going anywhere. My truck is overturned in a riverbed and my mother’s ashes may have already been washed downstream. I’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”
“If you’d like…” He toyed with a forkful of pasta. “I’m totally cool with going back to your SUV tonight. Maybe I can find the box with the ashes? Would that put your mind at ease?”
“Now?” Her appetite waned. She pushed the plate away. “Mac, I wouldn’t ask you to take the risk at night, but thank you for offering.”
“I’d do it. Just say the word. I get emergency calls at night all the time. I’m used to it.”
Looking into the depths of his warm brown eyes, she blurted, “How has a nice guy like you remained single?” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my God, I’m so rude. I didn’t mean to say that.”
He laughed. “But you thought it and the words slipped out?” A big, bashful grin made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I’ve been thinking the same thing about you.”
Straightening in the chair, she composed herself. “Dinner was delicious. You’re a hero—”
“Oh, I like that title.”
“You are! You prevent forest fires and lash damsels to the winch. Since my mental filter seems to be broken, I’ll also say you are easy on the eyes. Seriously, what’s the catch? Are you just a solitary person?”
Breaking from her gaze, he glanced at the tabletop. “Wow. My turn in the hot seat. I live alone because”—he set the fork down and clasped his big hands together—“I’m a little different from most guys. I don’t… I can’t casually date women. It’s not my thing.”
Wishing she’d held her tongue, she covered her mouth. The plaid shirt and the perfect amount of beard stubble on his strong jaw should have tipped her off. Lumber-sexual Papa Bear. “Oh! I’m so dumb. Sorry to put you on the spot.”
For a moment, he stared at her. “You didn’t put me on the spot.”
“Well, now I know. There’s nothing wrong with being a little different and not into women. I’ll stop flirting and we can be friends. I can always use another friend.” Picking up her fork, she spun a length of linguini around the tines and popped it in her mouth. Damn, he had such a beautiful hairy chest too.
His brows buckled in the middle. “I’m not gay. Is that what you think? You misunderstood me.”
“You don’t need to explain anything.”
“I think I do.” His face flushed. “I love women and I want one in my life, but with my situation—”
“What’s your situation?” she mumbled, between mouthfuls.
Mac swiped his palm through the air. “This situation. I’m perched in a little cement-walled bunker most of the year waiting for wildfires to break out. It’s not exactly New York or Paris.”
“Do you like your work?”
He speared his pasta as if he were attacking it. “It suits me. The mountains are my home. I can’t live in a city. I know because I’ve tried.”
“I’m a city girl.”
“See?” He wagged a finger at her. “That’s my point. The only interesting women I meet are the ones who drive off the side of the road. Once everything’s made right, you’ll go home. As you should.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“What does that mean?”
She mopped up the final smidge of sauce with the last strands of pasta. “I’ve got my eye on something. There’s a small hotel below the Sierra Ridge Ski Resort that’s consistently underbooked. The owners are elderly and they’ve let it get run-down. I’d like to buy them out at a fair price and turn the hotel into something special.”
“Are you talking about the Bluebell Motor Lodge off the highway?”
“Yep. They even painted the rocks surrounding the wishing well baby blue. The inside is a disaster. My best guess is the ground-in stains on the lobby carpet date from when Reagan held office. I’ve been communicating with the owners online, so I know a sale is possible. Today was the first day I actually saw the property. That’s why I was so late driving to the trailhead. I spent quite a few hours there. You have to inspect things in person. A photograph or a website can hide a lot. For instance, the roof was much worse than they let on, but the view was fantastic. Even in the rain, it took my breath away. I almost drooled just thinking about renovating the place.”
“What would you do with it?”
“I would keep the footprint small and blend it into the environment. No mega box structures. The site would lend itself well to a sport chalet in winter and a spa resort during the summer months. I’m going to put a proposal together, and if Five-Star isn’t interested, I’m thinking of branching out and doing it myself.”
“It’s going to cost a lot. Do you have the money?”
“No, but I have contacts with investors who trust my instincts and know my track record. It’s worth a try.”
“Sounds like you’re going to be very busy for the next several years.”
She pushed her empty plate away. “Hopefully, yes. By the way, I loved your pasta. Thank you.”
He dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Would you like some tea?”
“That sounds great. What have you got?”
“Herbal tea.” He walked to the kitchen counter and picked up a sealed tin. Unscrewing the top, he approached her and held the canister under her nose. “Do you like it?”
She sniffed the aromatic contents, which instantly brought a spring meadow to mind. “Nice. What is it?”
�
��I make it. The mint is from my greenhouse and I planted the chamomile in a flowerbox on my front porch. There’s lavender, raspberry leaf, and a few wild herbs I pick when I’m out. No two batches ever turn out alike. I will say this blend came out especially well. Shall I brew a pot?”
“Yes, please. I would love some.”
Returning to the sink, he filled a kettle and set it on the stove to heat. He took a ceramic teapot from a high shelf, rinsed it, and filled it with a generous amount of earthy green herbs and tiny white flowers.
Rising from the chair, she joined him at the sink. “You cooked. I’ll clean.”
He dismissed her offer with a shake of his head. “No way. You’re my guest.”
“Guest by default. I want to be useful.”
He chased her away with a soft grunt. “You should be taking it easy. Sit on the couch and relax.” A look of concern creased his brow. “How does the bite feel?”
She explored the bandage with the light tap of her fingertips. “Better. It feels warm, but doesn’t hurt. I could describe the sensation as almost pleasant, as if someone has gently placed their palm against my throat. I’m aware of it, but not bothered.” Stretching her arms above her head, she groaned. “Um. My back is stiff.”
Picking up a bottle of dish soap, he squeezed some on a sponge. “That’s not surprising. You were in a car accident.”
Wriggling her shoulders, she bent forward to touch her toes. “Hey, look at this.” Hunching forward, she placed her hands on the floor. “Oh, it feels good to stretch. I usually can’t reach the floor with such ease. For some reason, I can do it now. Isn’t that funny, even after all those hours in the car?” Planting her palms firmly on the area rug, she started walking on all fours. “It’s such a shame humans can’t move around like this now and then. It feels great! My balance is so much better. Can you imagine what it must feel like to run down a steep hill, or leap onto boulders and land on four big paws? The physical confidence must be wonderful. I feel so strong. You know what? I think I could do a push-up.” She dropped to the floor and rose on bent arms with her back plank-straight. “Oh, my God, that’s the first military push-up I’ve done since junior high! What the hell? Who would have thought…! Let’s try some more.”
Mac tossed the soapy sponge in the sink and hurried toward her. With damp hands, he grabbed hold of her arm. “Watch out. Don’t overdo it.” He gently led her to the couch and motioned for her to sit.
“No.” She refused to sit. Frustration flared at having her newfound feat of strength interrupted. She bared her teeth and growled in his face.
Stepping back, he appeared startled. “Whoa! What was that for?”
Clamping her hand over her mouth, she gasped. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know why I did that. It like there’s a big grouchy animal inside waiting to get out.”
The look in his eyes was impossible to decipher. “It’s okay.”
“Mac, it’s not okay. For a moment, I almost believed I was stronger than I actually am. I wanted to run on all fours, climb things.” She gulped a deep breath and swayed. “Oh boy. Now I feel dizzy. Something doesn’t feel right. Maybe I did overdo it. Time to sit down before I fall down.” Staggering a step, she wilted onto the couch.
With a light touch, he placed a hand on her shoulder and sat beside her. “Andi, I’m going to make you a cup of tea. After you’ve tried my tea, everything is going to get better. You’ll see.”
A nervous chuckle slipped out of her. “You think pretty highly of your tea, don’t you? I’m acting like I belong in a zoo and you’re offering me a cuppa as the remedy.”
A crooked smile added charm to his face. “It’s worked miracles for me.”
“I hope it can soothe the savage beast because that’s what I feel like. Cross my heart, this overwhelming desire to run on all fours keeps sneaking up on me. ‘Run’ might be the wrong word. I want to lope. Lope!” She smacked the couch cushion with her hand. “Who lopes? Does that sound normal to you?”
The kettle whistled.
“Wait here,” he said with quiet authority. Rising, he strode into the kitchen to turn off the stove. He poured steaming water into the red teapot and gave it a swish. Leaning against the counter, he faced her. “This needs to steep several minutes.”
The faint scent of lavender hung in the air. “It smells nice.”
“You can already smell it?”
“Easily. It’s very distinct.”
“Damn,” he grumbled.
Wary that he had grown tired of her strange behavior, she pursued his comment. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
Looking around the room, she noticed a piece of black-and-brown tartan framed and hung on the wall. “That’s interesting. I’ve never seen a Highland tartan with a pattern quite like that.”
He beamed. “You know about tartans?”
“A little. I’m a Brunell. My mother’s side of the family is Scottish and very proud. I hear there are not many Brunells left in Scotland. They all spread out into the world.”
Pointing at the frame, he stood guard over the teapot. “This is a piece of my ancestor’s kilt—Michael MacBrun, whom I’m named after. He is a legend in my family and said to have been a great warrior among great warriors. He was the first MacBrun to reach America and fought in the Revolution.” He paused. “Unfortunately, he wore a red coat. When he realized he’d fought for the wrong side of the cause, he switched. Afterward, he couldn’t go back. Michael melted into the backwoods. Loved it. Took an Algonquin woman as a wife. They say he was an especially big man for his day. The Algonquin called him ‘Makwa’—the bear.”
“Oh!” She rubbed her arm. “I got the chills when you said ‘bear.’ That’s the theme of the day, isn’t it? Bear. I can’t seem to escape it.”
“You might. We’ll see.”
“I’m sorry, what did you say? I didn’t hear that last part.”
“I’m just muttering.” Picking up the teapot, he poured the pale green concoction into two mugs and brought one to her.
She held the heavy earthenware mug below her nose. “Lovely. I can smell the chamomile.” A brief sip revealed a complex grassy flavor. “You’ve been an amazing host.” Tucking her feet beneath her, she shifted on the couch. An interesting art print of a castle in ruins caught her eye. “What’s that picture on the wall? Where is that? Something about it looks familiar.”
“That’s a popular art print from Victorian times. It’s part of the Highland pride revival.” He stood near the couch, sipping his tea. “The subject is Tor MacBrun. It served as a medieval armory and stronghold. The artist is Joseph McMahon. To be fair, the painting is pure flattery. I’ve been there. The sun never made an appearance and the ‘castle’ is little more than a crumbling maze of walls without a roof. But the structure’s lack of grandeur is irrelevant compared to the sacredness of the land. The place is heavily enchanted or haunted, so they say. It’s the place the MacBrun clan came into being.”
“Did you enjoy your trip to the Highlands?”
He dipped his chin and looked away. “Not especially. A bit of an eye-opening disappointment, if you must know.”
“Why? All that history. I would have been enthralled.”
“Too much history. I went with high expectations, but returned home empty-handed. In the end, I found nothing there for me.”
“I’d love to go. Scotland is a place I’m deeply attracted to. At least in theory. I travel a lot, but for some reason, I’m never sent there for work. Five-Star currently doesn’t own any properties outside London. If I had my way, that would change.”
“You’ve got a lot of ambition, don’t you?”
“Is that a bad thing? Sometimes I think it is. My mother used to say I was as driven as a long-haul trucker.”
“No father in your life?”
“None I ever met. He became a sore topic with my mother.”
An intense sparkle lit his eyes. “No brothers or sisters?”
“No to that a
s well.”
“So, technically, you’re an orphan?”
“I never thought of it that way, but yes, I suppose I am. I’m an orphan, but I ain’t no waif.” She tilted the mug and drank a gulp of fragrant tea.
Chapter Four
Another wave of guilt slammed into Mac. What had he done? This lovely woman, who would make a perfect mate, would soon piece together that she’d been deliberately bitten by a very horny bear and then slowly seduced and lied to until the bite took effect. Any hope of winning her over with her freewill intact was running out. Once she realized what he’d done, she’d hate him and want to flee as far from him as possible. The key now would be to put some space between them and keep it there.
They exchanged quiet glances. Staring at the peaches-and-cream glow to her skin, he asked himself if she had gotten prettier or if he’d fallen deeper under the mating thrall. At this point, he couldn’t tell and it probably didn’t matter. The urge to tangle his hands in her flowing hair and kiss her luscious mouth grew stronger. To be safe, he moved his chair back another arm’s length.
She seemed to sense his discomfort, and still holding the mug of tea, she rose from the seat. With aimless movements, she circled the cabin, stopping in front of the art print to study it. “Do the MacBruns still own this land?”
“Yes, why do you ask?”
“Just a little brainstorm firing in my head.”
“What were you thinking?”
“For starters, what a great setting. Look at the stunning panorama of the moor. I wouldn’t touch the ruins—”
“They wouldn’t let you.”
“I guessed that much. But there must be available land nearby, within sight of the castle. Wouldn’t it be fun to build a functioning reproduction of Tor MacBrun and run it like an historical destination? Offer modern amenities, like heated floors and plumbing. There’s no need to go overboard and get too medieval. Tourists will insist on Wi-Fi and phone chargers, but mostly I’d make it an off-the-grid experience. No cars allowed on the immediate property, horses and lorries only. A blacksmith’s hut. Battle reenactments—for fun. Wedding parties could be booked there. Arrange mock bridal kidnappings, with the bride’s full consent, of course. Grooms in kilts. Hell, you could earn back the initial investment from rental fees on a gothic wedding chapel and a photogenic dining hall alone. Who wouldn’t want some handsome wedding photos taken on horseback with a castle in the background? This one is a no-brainer. The biggest problem would be all those good-looking men in kilts. The bridesmaids would never go home. They’d want to go kilt chasing and grab a husband for themselves.”