Haley's Mountain Man

by Tracy Madison

  A man named Gavin stopped in asking for you. Said he had a few questions and that he’d email. Hope you had fun tonight.

  Blinking, she read the note again. Gavin had come to see her? Wow. A warm fuzzy sensation enveloped her, wrapping tight around her like a cocoon. This...well, it was out of character for him, and that alone made the gesture far grander than if any other man had popped in unexpectedly. She let that sit for a minute, relishing how special this simple act made her feel.

  Naturally, a slight fizzle of disappointment existed as well, since she hadn’t been here to enjoy the moment firsthand. She wondered what questions he’d had. Wondered what, exactly, had propelled him to seek her out. And she wondered about what might have happened if she had been here, and not out for dinner. Another kiss, maybe?

  Maybe that. She glanced at the note again, saw the bit about Gavin emailing her and flew to her bedroom. Retrieved her laptop, plugged it in and hit the power button. Realized another truth, one that kicked her nerves into overdrive. Really? Sometimes, life was unfair. Highly, highly unfair. Because if Gavin had spoken to her father, then Dylan had likely seen and heard the entire exchange. That would be enough, she knew, to raise his curiosity.

  Particularly in combination with their exchange in the restaurant’s kitchen. Knowing Dylan, he’d already phoned Reid to bring him up to speed. Alerting Cole wouldn’t be far behind. Yeah, life could be ridiculously unfair. Haley breathed in deeply to calm her runaway thoughts, concerns. Her brothers weren’t jerks. Not even close.

  They were warm, compassionate, responsible men. So probably, their initial step would be to corner her, to ask her a bunch of questions in order to satisfy their curiosity and concerns. If she managed this conversation well, they’d step back and watch for the time being. Sounded simple enough, but if she failed to alleviate their concerns, they’d then take matters into their own hands to get whatever answers they felt they needed.

  And this predicament right here is what worried her. She didn’t want Gavin to be put in an uncomfortable situation, regardless of how well-meaning her brothers were. He wasn’t a fan of surprises. He preferred to be prepared, to know what was coming his way.

  Haley chewed on her bottom lip, glanced at the clock. Yes, she’d have to warn him, so he could be prepared. She could call him now. It wasn’t that late yet. Or maybe she should wait until tomorrow, when she could try talking to him one-on-one.

  After some thought, she decided to hand the reins over to Gavin. She’d send him an email, mention she’d like to talk—either in person or by phone—and go with whatever he chose. Settled with the decision, Haley logged in to her email program. Saw that he had, indeed, sent her a message, and in a snap, her warm fuzzies returned and her worries lessened.

  She had a terrific, loving, supportive family. Gavin was a terrific man. They might have some hurdles to cross, but in the end, everything would work out however it was supposed to work out. And she believed that meant everything would be fine. Better than fine.

  With her optimism restored, Haley smiled and clicked on Gavin’s email. Scanned the letter. Her smile faded before she’d reached the end of what he’d written. Couldn’t quite believe what she’d read, so went through the letter a second time, and a hollow, heavy ache began to build in her heart. On her third go-around, tears were filling her eyes. After her fourth read-through, she could no longer properly see, so she closed the email and pulled her knees to her chin. And cried. Softly, quietly, but for a long while.

  He’d apologized for the kiss. He’d reiterated how busy he was. He’d said he didn’t have time for distractions—even pleasant distractions—and how he thought it would be best to put their friendship on pause. Maybe later, down the road a ways, if life settled some, they could start over from scratch. But now...well, there were just too many other things that needed his attention. Finally, he’d wished her well. Apologized again, and that...well, that was that.

  He was done. With her. With the connection she knew existed between them. With all of it, and frankly, none of what he’d written made a bit of sense. So yes, she cried.

  When she was done with the crying, she went on to reasoning. Why had he made this decision? Because she didn’t believe, not even for a second, the lame excuses he’d given her. Then, because she didn’t believe, didn’t—couldn’t—understand, frustration roared in and she fumed. Also for a good, long while. After the crying, the reasoning and the fuming, she found her feet, her strength, and decided she wasn’t done.

  Not with him. Not with them. Not by a large margin.

  If nothing else, she deserved a true explanation, delivered in person and not in a stupid email. When she had that explanation, assuming she even got that far, she’d appreciate the opportunity to express her opinion on his reasoning. That was how friends behaved.

  Mostly, though, she just knew she had to see him before giving up on him, on them. On what she believed they could someday be, if given the chance.

  So, no. She wasn’t done.

  Like it or not, Gavin was going to receive another surprise visit. Between now and then, she had to determine what stance to take, what to say, how to get him to listen and not order her to leave, or carry her off of his property, or put their relationship on pause.

  Really, she just needed him to listen. And okay, maybe to believe.

  * * *

  Gavin’s mood bordered on foul for most of Sunday, though he managed to keep that under wraps and focused on his job, on stocking the shelves and helping whatever customers strolled into the hardware store. He’d made a mistake with Haley, he knew. If not in the decision itself, then in the handling of that decision. Cowardly, sending her an email.

  Disrespectful, too. She’d gone out of her way to be nice to him, and he’d rewarded her outgoing nature by treating her poorly. Truth be told, he was ashamed by his behavior. He just wasn’t quite sure how to fix the dilemma, or if a fix even existed. Or, he supposed, if trying to fix the error would serve any beneficial purpose whatsoever.

  Probably not. There were many choices in Gavin’s life he wished he could change. Numerous roads he’d taken where he wished he’d turned left instead of right, or vice versa. What had nearly happened in Aspen being one. There, at least, he’d done what was right. It had just taken Russ’s letter to wake him up, to act on the choice he knew was right.

  In the case of Haley Foster, however, he believed he’d made the only decision he could comfortably live with. But the decision weighed on him nonetheless.

  He owed her an apology. A personal apology, to boot, not another damn email. The thought of this—of looking her in the eyes and apologizing—tied him up in all sorts of knots. Seeing her again would... Well, it would make him want to do an about-face, take back his words, and he knew that would be another mistake.

  Because he already cared too much.

  Hearing about her date had hit him hard. Real hard. Logically, he knew she wouldn’t have kissed him if she had romantic feelings for someone else. That just wasn’t something Haley would do. Of this, he was certain. But dammit, he shouldn’t have been—shouldn’t still be—so distressed. So no, he couldn’t alter his decision.

  By the time he left work, he’d decided his best option was to call her. That way, he could apologize and still keep enough distance to stand by his decision. What he hadn’t considered—and he really should’ve—was that Haley wouldn’t sit idly by after receiving his email.

  The second he turned into his driveway, every ounce of his determination skedaddled and his heart jumped around in his chest. Dammit all, there she was. Leaning against the trunk of her car, her arms angled over her chest and her foot tapping against the ground. Irked, without a doubt. Primed and ready to tear into his hide, most likely.

  She’d earned that right, he reckoned, so he’d listen.

  He pulled his truck as far to the side as h
e could, so she’d have room to back out when she’d had her say, and switched off the ignition. He brought to mind all of the valid reasons he couldn’t allow himself to be swayed, regained his determination and exited the vehicle.

  “Hey there, Haley,” he said, going for casual. “I’m guessing I know why you’re here.”

  “If your guess has to do with that asinine email you sent me, then you’re on the right track,” she said, scowling, her foot still tapping away. “And I don’t care what you say or what excuses you give or how busy you might be, I’m not leaving until you hear me out.”

  “Fair enough.” Yup, irked. Gloriously irked, at that. “I’ll listen.”

  “You bet you will!” she said. “Because that email was rude and hurtful and...and...unfair. I happen to like you, Gavin Daugherty, and you kissed me! Two nights ago now, if memory serves.” She stopped, gave him what could only be called a steely glare. “Do you recall kissing me? Or is that just some weird hallucination of mine?”

  He swallowed, hard. “Not a hallucination, Haley. I clearly recall kissing you.” A moment he would recall for however many years were still ahead of him.

  Pushing off the car, she strode forward, stopping directly in front of him. She lifted her chin, planted her hands on her hips and said, “Am I a horrible kisser?”

  “Wh-what? No. Of course not,” he murmured, backing off a step. Just to put a little distance between them. “There’s nothing wrong with your, um, kissing skills.”

  “Good. Nothing wrong with yours, either,” she fired back. “But do you know what happens when a woman likes a man, that man kisses her and then, twenty-four hours after that kiss, that man has the audacity to end their relation―friendship via a freaking email?” She paused for maybe a millisecond. “That woman cries, Gavin. I cried.”

  “You cried?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She made the admittance quietly, but without even a hint of pride. “I cried. For quite a long while.”

  Dammit. She’d shed tears? Over him? He hadn’t considered that his email would make her cry. Hadn’t considered that at all. “I am very sorry to hear that,” he said honestly, and he hoped she believed him. “Wasn’t my intention and I dislike the idea of you crying for any reason.”

  “Well, as you can see, I’ve stopped crying.” The green in her eyes darkened with temper as she stared up at him. Her lower lip trembled, and for some reason, that hit him hard, too. “And then I got mad. Real mad. And you know what I decided?”

  “Mad makes sense.” Far more sense than tears, especially tears shed over the likes of him. “What did you decide?”

  Using her index finger, she lightly jabbed his chest. “That almost every word you wrote in that stupid email is ridiculous and untrue. You...apologized for kissing me!”

  Wincing, inwardly as well as outwardly, he nodded. “Well, see, Haley, you were very clear in what you offered, and that was friendship. I don’t typically kiss my friends.”

  “I’m a big girl, Gavin, and if I hadn’t wanted to kiss you, I wouldn’t have.” She sniffed, jabbed him again. “I also have three brothers who have taught me how to take care of myself in prickly situations. Kissing you wasn’t prickly or unwanted, so what is there to apologize for?”

  Well, hell. “Because I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  “Oh, I believe you absolutely should have kissed me,” she said with another slight lift of her chin. “And I’m very pleased you did. So, I would like you to rescind your apology.”

  “All right,” he said, flustered as all get-out. “I take back my apology for kissing you.”

  A good deal of satisfaction entered her expression. “Good. Now, I would like to point out that life is busy. For pretty much everyone. So, I don’t buy that as a logical, sensible reason to put our relationship―friendship, whatever you want to call it―on pause.”

  “Actually, it’s quite logical.” At her arched brow, he continued with the reasons he’d gone over, what he’d practiced. Hoped he was able to convince her. “There are only so many hours in the day. I have goals―very specific goals, and in order to accomplish those goals, I have to use every hour in the day to its fullest. Distractions hurt my forward progress.”

  “Hmm.” Tap, tap, tap went her foot. “And I’m distracting you?”

  “Yes.”

  “With two visits in two weeks and a few emails each day?”

  “Yes,” he repeated, without going into any further detail. She didn’t need to know that his thoughts were frequently centered on her. She didn’t need to know that the distraction she presented had zip to do with emails or visiting him. Had to do with her. Specifically.

  “I don’t believe you. What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I know I went about this the wrong way, and I’m sorry for sending that email,” he said, skirting around her question. “I should have talked to you, told you how I felt, in person.”

  “Uh-huh. That would have been a good start,” she said, her mad reappearing. “But you can talk to me now. I’m right here, Gavin. And you owe me an actual, honest, real explanation.”

  “I am very sorry,” he repeated, “but there isn’t anything else to say. My feelings haven’t changed on this matter.” Blinking rapidly, she nodded, and he prayed that she wouldn’t start crying. He’d be on his knees if she did. “I...like you, too. More than I expected I would. And that kiss... Well, it was a mighty fine kiss. But we’re not the same, Haley. In any way at all.”

  “Life would be boring if all folks were the same,” she said softly, darting her gaze away from his. “Different doesn’t mean bad or incompatible. Different isn’t a reason to dump people you like, who you enjoy spending time with.”

  “I’m not, that is... I just don’t want—” He broke off, unable to admit the truth. As much as he didn’t want to hurt her, he was just as petrified of the damage she could do to him.

  “You don’t want what?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said, harsher than intended. “I have...too much going on at the moment to devote any of my time to...anyone.”

  “But down the road a ways, when life settles some, you might have more time. That is what you wrote, right?”

  “That’s right.” If the day ever came where he could look at her, think about her, without putting himself at risk or wanting the impossible, then maybe they could start over. He just didn’t believe that day would ever come. Didn’t see how he’d ever look at her and not want...more.

  That was dangerous. Too dangerous.

  “How long is this road, and how far down that road is ‘a ways’?” she asked in a trembling, unsteady voice. “A week, a month, a year, ten? Or...never?”

  Emotion clogged his throat. He ran his hands over his face, waited to be sure he could speak without the soppy brew leaking into his words. “I don’t know about never, but...a while. I’d say a while. I guess if I were you, I wouldn’t wait around for me.”

  Quiet descended for ten...twenty...thirty seconds. Pressing her fingers against her eyes, as if forcibly holding back her tears, she nodded again. When she spoke, she no longer sounded shaky. She sounded resolute. “Fortunately, I’m not you. Whatever I do next is my call.”

  No. She needed to leave this—and him—alone. “Don’t go beating your head against a brick wall on my account. Trust me, you don’t need the headache or the frustration.”

  Standing up on her tiptoes, she brushed her lips over his in a light, gentle caress that shot straight through him. Not so different from fire. Tempting, too tempting, to have her so close. Somehow, he found the strength to stand still. To not reach for her.

  Right before she stepped away, she whispered, “I believe I’ve mentioned my tenacity, how I don’t give up easily when someone matters to me. You might not understand this, and you might not even believe me yet, but, Gavin, you matter. One
of these days, I’ll find a way to prove that to you. One of these days, you’ll believe me.”

  Every muscle in his body froze as he watched her get into her car, as she pulled out of the driveway and onto the road. As she drove away. No, this wasn’t over. Haley wouldn’t allow this to be over, and he... Well, for him, he needed this to be done. Finished.

  Before he ended up worse off. Because he would, without a doubt, end up worse off.

  And he had a gut-sinking suspicion that he’d never, for the rest of his life, recover once that day arrived. Hell, he was already wondering if he’d regain the balance he’d lost in the past few weeks. She’d already left her mark on him, had already changed him, had already shattered a good number of his barriers.

  Well, he’d rebuild them. He’d done it before. He’d do it again.

  This time, though, he’d ascertain that no one—not even a woman with a saucy smile and a heart made from gold and...and zero regard for boundaries—could break them down.

  Chapter Nine

  Early summer had arrived in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, and Haley’s days were, once again, becoming hectic and long. Regrettably, neither the slowly warming weather nor the increasing surge of tourists had managed to relieve her of her misery.

  She was still itchy. Still restless. Still waiting.

  The only difference was that this time, she knew precisely what—or, in this case, who—she was waiting for. Day by day, her belief in Gavin, in them, in the hope that he would come to his senses and undo what he did, was starting to waver.

  Ironically, all of her concerns about her brothers scaring off Gavin now seemed ludicrous. It seemed she had done a fine enough job of that all on her own, even if she had no comprehension of why, of what might have happened between the kiss and that blasted email.

  Each day since that horrible, horrible night in his driveway, she’d sent him an email of her own. Just one a day, filled with basic, newsy chatter. She kept everything she wrote light, easy, in the hopes he’d eventually respond. So far, he hadn’t.