Haley's Mountain Man

by Tracy Madison

  Haley nodded, waited until Gavin’s form disappeared from view and groaned. Softly, of course, so he wouldn’t hear, and then, because she had the very real concern her legs might just buckle beneath her, took a seat on the couch. And forced air in and out of her lungs.

  Silly, to be so nervous. Unusual, as well.

  Good, though. Being nervous about a man was good. Another couple of breaths and her heart stopped ramming so hard against her breastbone. She pulled in one more, for good measure, and stretched her neck to each side, to unkink the knots. Better. Definitely better.

  Feeling more like herself, she gave in to her curiosity and appraised the living room. Like the kitchen, the room didn’t boast much in the way of furniture: the well-worn sofa she sat on, the coffee table, one straight-backed chair on the other side, a card table in the far corner with a foldout chair and a laptop, and finally, a couple of floor lamps.

  Here, she didn’t see any signs of a renovation in progress, but she assumed a renovation would happen eventually. Probably after Gavin had completed the kitchen.

  Large and rectangular in shape, the room extended the length of the house, and had wide, long, curtainless windows on both ends. Some type of wood—dark, rich, though in need of care—framed the walls and the windows. Avocado-green carpeting, ugly and threadbare in spots, covered the floor. Hardwood floors, she guessed, and without even asking, she knew one of the first things Gavin would do in this room was pull up that carpeting to discover what it hid.

  Finally, she allowed herself to take in the true focal point of the room: the massive stone fireplace that sat in the center of the longest wall. Stones of myriad shapes, colors—pinks and grays and earth tones, in varying shades from light to dark—made up the formation. The hearth was large, also stone, and the mantel was likely cedar, though that was more of a guess based on her knowledge of other stone fireplaces in the area than a choice made with any surety.

  Beautiful, though. Strong and everlasting.

  A fireplace that all but begged people to sit around its hearth, warming their hands and feet, talking about their day, sharing their lives. A sigh born of longing escaped. Yes, this fireplace demanded attention. She hoped Gavin saw the beauty she saw, and that his intention was to refurbish, not to do away with or replace. That would be a shame.

  For the first time, she wondered at Gavin’s choice in purchasing this house, rather than something smaller, something that would require less work. Less of a commitment in time and money. Seemed awfully large for one man. Lonely, maybe, too. But in yet another way, this large and rambling house seemed exactly right for the man she was beginning to know.

  Something else she’d ask. Later. Maybe not tonight, but at some point.

  Her list of questions was growing by the day, rather than decreasing with each one she posed, and her curiosity about Gavin didn’t seem quenchable. Didn’t seem as if she could ever know enough about him, about what made him tick, or his past...or his dreams for the future.

  What kissing him would be like, feel like.

  Another soft, barely audible groan slipped from her lips. Butterflies reappeared in her stomach, her skin warmed and her mouth went dry.

  All at the thought of kissing Gavin.

  Twisting her hair around her finger, she stopped that thought process before it could go any further. If thinking about a mere kiss elicited such a strong physical response, what might follow that kiss would certainly be her undoing. Tonight was about dinner, conversation. Getting to know each other better. When—and if—a kiss happened, it wouldn’t be tonight.

  He wasn’t wholly comfortable with her yet, that much was apparent. And...while she felt as if she’d known him forever, she hadn’t. Even so, the idea of a kiss refused to dissipate. Her fingers went to her lips, and she was again lost in the image of Gavin’s mouth on hers. Goose bumps erupted on her arms and she shivered—in pleasure, anticipation.

  No, a kiss probably wouldn’t happen tonight, for all the reasons—and more—she’d already considered. But why rule out the possibility quite so fast? The night was just getting started...anything could happen. Anything at all.

  Even a kiss.

  * * *

  The first thing Gavin did when he entered the kitchen was try to find some peace, which entailed pacing the floor from one end of the room to the other and back again. Wasn’t working. Wasn’t helping him figure out any slice of what he felt, or what was in his head.

  Not the happiness he’d experienced from finding Haley on his front porch, or the frustration that she hadn’t alerted him to her plans. There was the reminiscent fear of wanting to believe in, trust, another person, and what the likely fallout would be. In addition, as if he needed more confusion, he had this stupid hope in his head—his heart, too—that didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Hope that strengthened whenever he heard from, thought of or saw Haley Foster.

  Last, there was the guilt and resentment that the phone call from his mother had brought. His mother was in Denver, not in his living room waiting to share a pizza, which made it easier to focus on Haley. Easier, but no less complicated. Not by a long shot.

  And okay, he could’ve sent Haley home. That would’ve been completely within his rights. She’d even given him permission to say no—not that he needed that permission, but still. That told him she would’ve been okay with a no, that he wouldn’t have caused her any hurt or sadness by saying no, but when push came to shove, he’d wanted her to stay.

  It was that simple, that complex, and that infuriated him, as well.

  So here she was. Again. And all of this contradiction brewing inside was surely going to cause a heart attack. Or a stroke. Or...something. A man couldn’t live like this, tied up in knots all the damn time. Over a woman. A feisty, impulsive, beautiful woman who seemed to have a heart made of gold and an undying belief in the goodness of others.

  She would be hurt because of that belief someday.

  And that right there, the possibility of Haley being hurt, brought his protective instincts to life with a roar, adding to the mix. When had he started to care enough to worry, to want to protect? Well, almost from the beginning. Before she’d trailed him up the driveway, he’d cared enough. He stopped pacing, admitted the truth again: yes, he cared.

  Now what to do about that prickly state of affairs? He wished he knew, but she shouldn’t be hurt. Ever. Maybe he could help her, teach her some of the lessons he’d learned. Course, she likely wouldn’t listen, likely wouldn’t see the sense or the wisdom in practicing caution.

  A small grin appeared, easing some of his turmoil. Nope, Haley’s mule-headedness wouldn’t allow her to learn anything she didn’t think she needed to learn. Well, then.

  She’d declared them friends. If that declaration gave her the right to offer help he didn’t want or need, to ask him one question after another and to stop by unannounced with a pizza and invite herself to dinner, then it certainly gave him the right to watch her back, to ascertain she didn’t walk into trouble or trust the wrong person.

  Sounded good to him. Reasonable. Something even she couldn’t argue with.

  For now, that had to be enough. Working out the rest of this wouldn’t happen while Haley sat in the next room. He bent his head, brushed free as much of the dust as he could, did the same with his clothes. Next, he turned on the water faucet to full blast and washed his face, hands and arms. Really, he needed a shower. A change of clothes. And dammit, he still hadn’t shaved. Irritated all over again, he grabbed the dish towel and dried himself off.

  Why was he having girlish worries about his appearance? Well...because he’d have liked to be better prepared. In addition to the shower and clean clothes, he definitely would’ve gone over those ideas of his for topics of conversation, so he wouldn’t be so tongue-tied, flustered around her. None of this should be so difficult, he knew. Wasn’t for most pe
ople.

  Having a conversation with another person shouldn’t send him spinning so hard. Besides which, she wanted to be here, or she wouldn’t have brought him dinner. Folks didn’t tend to deliver food to folks they didn’t like, didn’t think well of.

  If nothing else, he’d eat when he didn’t have any words. That would give him a few seconds—or minutes, depending on how long he chewed—to consider his words before he said them. A pitiful plan, no doubt, but a doable one. And right now, doable was all he needed.

  Relieved, if not pleased, with the solution, Gavin retrieved a couple of plates and glasses, silverware, and the paper towels. Hell, maybe he’d even ask a few of his own questions. He wouldn’t mind knowing what her favorite Christmas memory was.

  Right. He could do this.

  Still tense, but less so than earlier, he returned to the living room. Haley waited on the sofa, looking for all the world like a person one hundred percent comfortable with herself, her surroundings...him. She was... Well, glorious was the only word that came to him in that particular moment. Not a term he used all that often, but it fit.

  Tonight, she wore her hair long and loose and free, just as he’d yearned to see it before. Her eyes were sparkling and her lips were...not so much red as a subtle, warm shade of pink. A slightly darker hue than the blush of her cheeks. She wore simple clothes: a pair of jeans and a soft-looking pale green shirt that clung to her curves without being too tight.

  Really, though, what made her glorious was that smile.

  Never in his life had Gavin seen such a smile. Warm and real and...well, sweet, he guessed, was appropriate. Saucy, too, though again, the use of such a description sent a rush of embarrassment straight at him. How in heaven’s name had this woman seen anything in him to pique her interest enough to email, bring him dinner, ask him questions?

  Or, for that matter, sit in his living room with a saucy smile?

  Those thoughts swirled and spun, mucking up whatever ease he’d momentarily found before laying eyes on her again. He opened his mouth, set to say something, anything, but that stupid cat came out of nowhere to cling to his tongue.

  Swallowing hard, he forced his body to move in Haley’s direction before she noticed his awkwardness. Or worse, commented on his awkwardness. Or worse yet, noticed without comment, but showed some sign that made him aware she’d noticed.

  Lord, he was a mess.

  Rattled. Confused. Unshaven. Yup, a mess, and in that second, what he needed the most was to know what motivated Haley Foster to behave in the way she did.

  “Why’d you come over here tonight, Haley?” he blurted the question without proper consideration. Her eyes widened and she blinked, and regret simmered inside. He tried to fix it by saying, “That was rude, and not really what I meant to say. I just—”

  “It was an impulsive decision,” she said quickly. There was something else there, too. Some unknown emotion he couldn’t put his finger on. Blinking again, she dipped her chin and stared at the floor. “I’m sorry, Gavin. I barged in again and—” suddenly, she stood, smoothed her jeans with her hands and shrugged “—I should leave. You’re busy and...I should leave.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he looked at her hard, and recognized what he couldn’t before. For a beat, he was dumbfounded by the realization. She was nervous. And he’d made her feel bad.

  The first gave him confidence, because if she fought with nerves, then he didn’t feel so strange about his ongoing battle. The second made him want to kick himself.

  “No, I don’t want you to leave. In fact,” he said with a smile he didn’t have to fake, “I was getting hungry when you knocked on my door. And I’d rather eat with you than...well, just about anyone else, I’d reckon. Please stay.”

  “Is that so?” she asked, her voice faint. “More than anyone else? Really?”

  “That’s so.”

  The pink in her cheeks warmed to a rosier, sultrier shade. Her smile returned. “I’d rather eat with you than anyone else, as well. Or, for that matter, do just about anything with you than with anyone else. In case you’re curious.”

  And didn’t that just knock the air clean out of his lungs? Without giving himself a chance to second-guess a damn thing, he went to the sofa, sat down, patted the cushion she’d vacated. “Then I’d say we’re both where we’re supposed to be tonight. Let’s eat.”

  She retook her seat, and they dug into the pizza. He poured them sodas, she doled out the chips. And for a while, they ate in silence. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. He didn’t feel the need to fill the quiet. They just existed in the same space comfortably, without the tension he typically experienced with others.

  Enjoyable. Relaxing. And, again, far easier than he’d have imagined.

  They talked some, naturally, while they ate. About the house, the renovations—though he didn’t mention his future plans, hopes—his job at the hardware store, her job with her family’s businesses, and other odds and ends. None of which were particularly significant, but the conversation flowed and ebbed without so much as a hiccup...without Gavin getting stuck in his head even once. He didn’t quite understand how or why, not in any way whatsoever, but he was beginning to accept that there was something different about Haley.

  Something different about him when he was with Haley.

  When they finished eating, she tidied the mess on the coffee table, stacking her plate on top of his. “I really am sorry for barging in tonight,” she said. “And I wish I could promise I’ll never do so again, but I probably will. No use pretending otherwise, even to myself.”

  He started to say that was fine, that he’d adjust, but stopped. Thought about her words some, about what made him comfortable and what didn’t. Decided that if they were going to move forward in any fashion at all, he should be as honest with her as she was being with him.

  “I can handle that...every so often,” he said carefully. “But I tend to do better with advance notice. I have a lot going on around here, a lot I want to get done. And...well, I guess I like to plan, like to know what’s coming, as much as I can.” He fidgeted, uncomfortable with the admittance, with the worry that he might hurt her feelings. “I’m just not that spontaneous of a guy, Haley. So, a few parameters would help on my end.”

  “Of course,” she said. Her eyes were serious. Maybe even a little sad. “I hope I haven’t made you too uncomfortable. I just... I am spontaneous and impulsive, and sometimes I get an idea and I can’t let it go. I’m not really a plan-out-every-minute-of-every-day type of person.”

  “Why not?” he asked, genuinely wanting to know. To understand not just her opinion on this topic, but her. He wanted to understand her. “When you have a plan, you can mostly be sure of what’s coming your way. It’s logical, to live that way.”

  Safer, too. A hell of a lot safer.

  “Hmm. Good question.” She twisted her fingers in her lap, and he again had the stunning realization that she was nervous. He didn’t want her to be nervous. “It isn’t as if I don’t plan anything. I do. My workdays and big, important decisions. But I don’t try to prepare for the moments in between.” Lifting her shoulders in a small shrug, she said, “I guess I think that too much preparation can blind you to other possibilities. I would hate for that to happen. I would hate to miss out on something great.”

  Gavin weighed her explanation with his own beliefs, experiences. As a kid, he couldn’t plan, control, prepare for, one damn minute of anything most days. Some nights, he’d go to sleep in one house, in one bed, and the next night he was somewhere else. So, while he understood her perspective, it wasn’t his. Would never be his.

  He considered, briefly, sharing this portion of his past, so she could understand his perspective. Decided not to. Seemed too soon. Doing so wouldn’t be pleasant and would likely lead to other areas he wasn’t ready to discuss. But no, he couldn’t imagine l
iving without a plan of some sort in place. Even in the “in between” moments.

  “Something great, huh?” he said. “That sounds nice, but spontaneity doesn’t necessarily equal good. Not being prepared can get you hurt. Leave you in a bad place, wondering how in the hell you got there.”

  “That’s a point,” she agreed readily enough. “But spontaneity doesn’t necessarily equal bad, either. Anything can happen. And the law of averages alone will guarantee that some of what happens will be good.”

  Again, he took this in, thought about what it meant. He required structure, probably more than most folks. Haley didn’t require structure, or at least, not as much as most folks. And this...well, it magnified the core difference between them. They weren’t just opposites. They were oil and water. Tomato soup and peanut butter. One just did not go with the other.

  As little as a week or so ago, this concept would’ve given him relief. A reason not to bother answering her emails, her questions. A reason not to push out of his comfort zone. Hell, if he were smart, he’d end whatever was brewing between them. Now. Before someone got hurt. Her. Him. Would be easier now than later, he knew. It was the logical choice.

  He always went with the logical choice.

  Haley cleared her throat. “You know, even if you plan out each second of every day for the rest of your life, the unexpected will happen. Always does. Some good, and yes, some bad.” She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. “You can’t wipe out that aspect of life. No matter how hard you try. And I...I would just rather be optimistic and open.”

  Optimistic and open, huh? Scary way to live, to think. The open part, anyway. Maybe too scary for a man like him. “I think,” he said slowly, “that we live in two different worlds, Haley. And I’m not altogether sure—”

  “Stop,” she said. “Don’t say what I think you’re going to say.”