by Anya Summers
Her parents’ sudden, tragic deaths were a loss Mia had never fully recovered from. She’d had nightmares for years afterward, so much so that her aunt had gotten her into therapy to help with the growing anxiety and panic attacks. Even when her aunt had promised her she would never leave her, Mia hadn’t believed her. Her abandonment issues festered, even with the therapy, and she had lived most of her young life in a constant state of fear and anxiety that one day her aunt, now filling in for the role of mother and father, would leave her and never return.
That fear had always made Mia hesitant to get involved—with anyone. It was far easier at times to deal with the loneliness than the fear of being left behind.
And it was part of the reason why she’d regressed after her relationship with Joe went belly up and the scandal of it had spread through the rank and file at Northwestern. Colleagues she’d considered friends had abandoned her. With all of that coming so shortly on the heels of her aunt’s passing, Mia’s world caved in on itself.
Was it any wonder all the joy had been sucked out of her? She had spent a solid month in a depression so deep and dark, she’d not left her apartment. She’d had her groceries and food delivered. She’d wallowed. All the normal fixes and steps she’d been taught to battle her anxiety through years of therapy no longer worked.
Until then, Mia had happily worked a good seventy hours a week. And while the fame, the celebrity of her position unsettled her, she’d believed she had a solid foundation beneath her feet. Except then she discovered she’d not been standing on solid granite, but quicksand, ready to suck her down into a dark, terror filled abyss as everyone abandoned her.
How did one recover from that?
Mia didn’t have the answers. Her therapist said a loss like that took time, that she needed to be kind to herself, and give herself permission to grieve over the loss. Whereas Mia just wanted to know how she could have been so blinded by a handsome face. How she couldn’t foresee that the girlfriends she’d made at the university would desert her in her time of crisis. Or that the colleagues in a field she’d once adored with all her heart and soul would consider her a pariah.
Mia didn’t know.
It was why she had such a hard time writing. She knew the block was emotional. She’d tried to pull herself back together, feeling a bit like Humpty Dumpty. But just like all the king’s horses and all of his men couldn’t put Humpty back together, Mia didn’t know how to mend her broken heart. The jagged pieces caused a physical ache that, at times, made just the act of going through the motions of her day hard enough to take a toll.
She stared at the blank screen—where the last words she’d written tapered off—for more than an hour before becoming frustrated. Then she shut off her computer, made a cup of tea, and went to sit on the front porch with a notebook and pen.
One of the ideas her therapist, Debbie, had before Mia left was to try her hand at journaling. Mia had done that as a teenager but, with the sheer volume of her workload, hadn’t given the practice much more thought until recently. Now nothing else was working, she figured she’d give it a try.
Day One in the Wild West
I survived my first night in the Black Elkhorn Lodge intact, which wasn’t something I would have bet on when I first parked my Audi in the parking lot yesterday. But apparently wine will get a body through most anything.
The land is stunning. I can imagine, staring out across the fields, what the great wagon trains must have looked like as homesteaders made their way across the plains and into the mountains. Searching for a new life, putting everything on a chance and the hope that it would be better than the crowded streets of Boston or New York, where work in the factories was scarce.
Mia detailed her thoughts on the cabin, on the comfort of the bed, on the most excellent pot pie, and the smells of pine and earth wafting on the breeze which were so different from the clogged and rather dour smells of downtown Chicago, with the vehicles belching their gas guzzling emissions and the buildings made of steel and stone. Granted, she could waltz down Michigan Avenue and be assailed by the awesome scent of Chicago deep-dish pizza. But there would also be scents from the gutters that were far more questionable.
Here, the air was clean and crisp.
It wasn’t until she came to describe her run-ins with the sexy surly cowboy, Cole, that she felt heat flush along her neck.
Cole was… what?
A big, testosterone-laden hunk of man meat who caused my body to stand at attention. He intimidated me beyond measure. When he’d come to rescue me from the darkness last night, a part of me wanted to lean into the strength he exuded and absorb as much of it as I could. So that I could see if it was catching, or if I could infuse myself with some of it. When his hands closed around mine, I bit back a whimper. But not of fear. Oh no, fear I could have handled and would have been prepared for.
No, his big hands, calloused and roughened, ignited a simmering heat of desire that nearly sliced through my composure. And, above all, when I glanced over at him after starting the fire, the kindness and warmth I spied were nearly my undoing. I wanted to crawl over into his lap, even though he hadn’t offered, and hang on for dear life.
Silly of me. Foolish, even.
Mia sat back in her chair and gazed out over the land, amazed that the sexy surly cowboy could make her feel like that. Then again, this was the first time in nearly six months that she’d felt anything but abject panic and despair. It had to count for something, right?
She thought about her desire to touch him, to see if his flesh and his inherent alpha maleness would burn her fingertips. And she’d thought, for a moment, when he’d looked at her with the firelight dancing and casting golden shadows, that he had intended to kiss her, that there had been desire reciprocated in his soot-filled depths. A part of Mia wondered what it would be like to be with a man so male and confident.
For all of Joe’s deceptive lies and skills at making her believe he cared, when it came to the finer, intimate relationship between them, Mia had always thought it was nice enough. Sex with Joe hadn’t been world altering, but she’d figured her tepid enjoyment of it was all on her. When the bottom had fallen out, Joe had even told her the reason he needed to cheat was because sex with her left him unsatisfied.
But when it came to sexy surly cowboy Cole, with his dark smolder, she didn’t think sex with him would be tame or tepid. If anything, she wondered whether sex with him would incinerate her from the inside out.
Even thinking about it now caused tingles of heat to simmer.
Then the spell had been broken as he’d brought in extra firewood and left her alone for the night. Taking a look at herself in the mirror after he left, she figured the panicked, exhausted, and likely desperate gleam in her eyes had sent him running.
Mia glanced back down at the notebook in her lap and realized she’d written. It wasn’t progress on her book. But considering this was the first she’d written in six months, she’d take the small victory. With her stomach grumbling and her mind on facing her fears, she headed back inside.
For lunch, she needed comfort food, to soothe the sexual ache and just because it sounded good. No longer would she stop herself from doing the things she wanted. She made grilled cheese and tomato soup. It was of the canned variety, but at least it was organic. And it hit the spot, just like the wine had done last night.
With the small burst of confidence swimming in her veins due to the pages she’d filled in her notebook, she called the front desk.
“Black Elkhorn Lodge and Resort, this is Billie. How can I help you today?”
“Hi Billie. This is Mia Evans.”
“Yes, Miss Evans. What can I do for you today? Is the power not working again?”
“No, no. The power’s fine. Ah, se—Cole fixed it for me last night. I wanted to see about booking a one-day fishing trip for tomorrow.”
“Oh, certainly. Let me check and see if there is availability.”
“If not tomorrow, I can certai
nly do it another time,” Mia said, backtracking and clenching her fist. Maybe she was overestimating what she could do here.
“Nope. We have tomorrow available. And it’s just for you?” the clerk asked.
“Yes.”
“I figured, but I never want to assume. And what’s your fishing experience?”
“I’m a complete newbie. I’ve never even held a fishing pole,” Mia admitted, rather glumly.
“Not to worry. Our guide will help cover all the basics with you. Should I assume that you will need to add fishing gear?”
“Yes, I don’t have any of that. Will that be a problem?”
“Not at all. We’ve got you covered. There is a deposit for the gear that will be refunded to you after the trip. I’m just making sure that our guide has all the information he needs. You will need to meet him here at the main lodge entrance at five thirty.”
“In the morning?” Mia asked.
“Yes. The full day expedition needs to start that early to make the most of the daylight. You will be back by dinnertime. And we provide a boxed lunch that includes a club sandwich, chips, fruit, and a cookie, along with beverages, so you won’t have to worry about that. Do you have any questions?”
“Um, yeah, what does one wear to go fishing?” she asked, nibbling on her thumb.
“Well, it’s going to be a little on the chilly side tomorrow. I would dress in layers. If you have long underwear, wear it. Or, if you have leggings, I would wear those under a pair of jeans. You’ll want to take a coat with you. But part of what we will supply will be the waders and boots for you to wear.”
“Okay. That’s good to know.”
“Anything else I can help you with?” Billie asked.
“Nope. That would be it,” Mia said.
“Great, well, enjoy the rest of your day, and if you have any questions or need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”
“I will, thank you,” Mia said as she hung up, and then lowered her head to the dining table.
What was she thinking? She wasn’t an outdoors woman. She didn’t know the first thing about survival or fishing or being in the wilderness. She should call back and cancel.
But, as she gulped in frantic breaths, trying to stem the rising panic attack, Mia straightened her spine. The reason she was here was to break up the monotony of her life and try to jar herself from the malaise sweeping destruction through it.
It was an experience; one she could journal about, that might help her surmount the obstacle course of writer’s block standing in the way of finishing her book. With her resolve, while not firm, more like a powder puff, but slightly stronger, she committed herself to the fishing trip the following day.
But instead of writing her book, she found an older Dean Koontz paperback on one of the shelves and whiled away the rest of her day with that, immersing herself in House of Thunder.
Chapter 5
On days when Cole didn’t have a tour or expedition to guide, he tended to work on any maintenance requests or needs. This time of year was perfect for adding updates or making repairs needed to the cabins they rented out. The lodge was currently at a fifty percent capacity, which for this time of year was rather high. They were mainly stocked with the die-hard adventurers who weren’t scared off by the cold and the snow that tended to cover the land on any given day.
And most of the die-hards tended to be skiers more intent on being near the slopes. He knew Garrett was booked solid over the next month and wondered if Garrett would make it on Sunday for their monthly poker game.
Today, he’d spent the morning re-painting the interior of cabin L. The plumbing in the kitchen also needed some work. He probably needed to install a new faucet but he would get to that this week.
When his cell phone rang, he wiped his hands on a rag before he answered, noticing it was the front desk number. “What can I do for you, Billie?”
“I wanted to let you know that you have a one-day fishing trip I booked for you tomorrow.”
“Great. How many in the party?” he asked. It would give the cabin time to dry out so he could fix the sink without the fumes nearly driving him out.
“Just one, and they are a beginner.”
“How much of a beginner?” Not that he minded instructing and teaching guests how to fish. It just made his approach a little different. He typically had to be a bit more hands on because of it.
“Total beginner, as in: never held a fishing rod before,” Billie said.
“Will the guy need gear like waders and stuff?”
“That’s what I was about to explain before you cut me off. It’s Miss Evans in cabin D you will be taking out.”
Cole swore under his breath. “Fine. Thanks for the heads up. You did explain that she’s to be ready and in the lobby by five thirty?”
“Come on, stop acting like this is my first day. I realize that Miss Evans might not be your usual type of client but be nice to her,” Billie scolded.
“I’m always nice. Anything else? I have painting that needs finishing.”
“Who would’ve figured you for the grumpy Gus? Nope, that’s it,” Billie said and hung up on him.
He stared at his phone for a minute. Okay, so he hadn’t handled that news well. It was just that Miss Evans, Mia, stirred him in a way no woman did, at least not since Lana. Cole had avoided emotional entanglements ever since.
Cole had met Lana when he was twenty-six. The lodge was still in its earliest beginnings. She’d been an ethologist, freshly graduated with her doctorate, who had come to Wyoming to conduct a field study on the migration patterns of wild horses, among other mammals in the area. She’d been one of their first long term cabin rental guests and had hired Cole on multiple occasions to camp and help her track the nearby herd of wild horses.
To say that Cole had fallen for Lana was like saying the moon was a white round rock in the sky. They’d tracked through the surrounding hills, forests, and mountains. Made love beneath the stars. And for all her brashness and boldness, she’d been his first committed Dominant and submissive relationship.
Cole had bought a ring and was getting ready to ask her to marry him. But one night, he’d come across a letter from the university that had given her grant money, offering her a full teaching position at the University of Seattle. While realistically, it was only a few states away, at the time it had seemed like the other side of the moon. The lodge was just picking up steam. He’d made promises to his dad to make something of the lodge, so he couldn’t go off willy-nilly and leave Mason to manage it on his own.
He’d confronted her about it and they’d fought. She’d packed her car and left that night. He’d been so angry with her, so hurt and crushed. And then Jackson had shown up at his door. Lana had been in an accident. She’d taken one of the sharp turns on the mountain roads too fast and her car had skidded off the road, rolled down a three-hundred-foot drop, and she’d been killed instantly.
Cole had never gotten over her, nor the fact that it was his fault she’d died. If he’d been better, had listened and been willing to see her side of things, she’d still be here. She’d be alive. He would have asked her to marry him and followed her to Seattle.
But he hadn’t done any of that. And she was gone.
Cole cursed as he cleaned up the paintbrushes. Since Lana had died, he’d not allowed himself to get close to another woman. He’d been with plenty of subs, members of Cuffs & Spurs, who didn’t ask for more than he was willing to give. Lana had been the love of his life. He wouldn’t have another.
Which was why the startlingly deep desire he was experiencing for their newest guest unsettled him, to say the least. As much as he would rather avoid Mia, he was the one who was in charge of the expeditions. And, sure, if he asked Mason to take her out instead, his brother would—after he’d laughed his ass off at him—and all because Cole was afraid to touch her.
He'd never live it down. He could practically hear the remarks from his buddies at the club and none of them were gl
owing.
Once Cole had finished cleaning up his paint supplies, he headed out of the cabin and took the all-terrain Jeep down to their private marina. They had an entire cabin that held all the fishing gear anybody could want, from various types of poles, to lures, to bait and tackle. Since Mia was a novice, he figured they would do the easier cast-off version of fishing and leave the fly-fishing and other techniques for another time if she took to it.
He found a pair of waders that were about her size, as much as he could reckon. They were some of the smallest they had on hand.
Then he proceeded to double-check the fishing lines and the poles, making sure they were in top working order. He double checked his three-seater boat they would be taking out in the morning and made sure the oars were sound. They did have a larger boat as well that had amenities like a bathroom, but that was for the larger parties and overnight excursions. For a simple day trip with only one guest, the three seater would be fine.
Once he was certain they were set for their fishing trip, Cole headed home. This morning when he’d risen and started his day, he had figured he would head into town and go to the club. But by the time he made it home, he had no desire to drive the forty minutes each way. Not when he could smell Emily’s cooking.
Dinner and a cold beer would serve him well. He had an early morning. And he could only pray that the unanticipated shot of lust he’d felt for Mia had been a fluke.
Chapter 6
With a grimace, Mia arrived at the lodge that morning at zero dark thirty.