A Bride for the Mountain Man

by Tracy Madison

  The thought sobered her further and weighed heavier than it should. Quickly, before the heaviness could take root, she shoved practical, reasonable thoughts into her head. Life would go on. She’d visit with Rachel and figure out where to go from here.

  Her original plan still existed. Nothing had changed. And the honest truth of the matter was that nothing should change. There was a lot of rocky, uneven ground to cover before she would be ready to truly consider the wishes and wants that now swam in her heart.

  Right. Because how could she have the life she’d dreamed about—whether with Liam or another man she’d yet to meet—before she realized some of her own goals? How could she really know someone else or let anyone fully into her world before she really knew herself and what she was made of?

  So, okay. Nothing had changed. Her focus remained the same, on her future and creating a life of her own making. That goal needed to come to fruition, and none of what she felt—or thought she felt—toward Liam held any bearing.

  But that didn’t mean she could erase her concern or her curiosity, and that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t enjoy the rest of her time here with him. And there was no chance that she would walk away and forget.

  Because she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

  If her dream held any true importance, if fate had brought her here for a reason, she would eventually know that as surely as she knew her own name. She wouldn’t have to question or guess or push or prod. All she had to do was follow her path and see where it led. See if Liam’s path merged with hers again at some point in the future. She hoped it would.

  She returned her attention to him, to the steady, calm beat of his voice as he spoke about the wolf cubs and the mama standing sentry. His body was still angled away from hers, but she would guess he wore a serious expression and a hooded gaze. The unnamed darkness still had its hold, and she felt for him. Wanted and wished for lightness to enter his speech, for a rolling laugh to emerge, for a ray of sunlight to overtake that darkness and send it scurrying for cover.

  All at once, an idea of what she would ask for as her “prize” blossomed into being.

  Maybe she only had one more day with this man. Maybe she couldn’t offer the light he seemed to need at this moment, but she could use her prize to elicit some frivolity. And he’d have to say yes, because her request absolutely fell into the reasonable range.

  They would have fun. There would hopefully be laughter. And perhaps that would be a gift to Liam, as well as to herself. If nothing else, they would create another memory she would carry with her, along with the rest, as she forged a future she could call her own.

  Leaving Liam and his sanctuary didn’t have to be sad. Not if she could help it.

  Chapter Eight

  For the second day in a row, Liam woke up grumpy. Today, though, he couldn’t place blame on a Swedish pop group or Meredith’s choice to play “Mamma Mia” at a louder than decent volume. The house was whisper silent when he opened his eyes, still more dark than light outside and as had already become the norm, his dogs were nowhere to be seen.

  They were, without a doubt, curled up with Goldilocks. And even the absence of his traitorous dogs didn’t account for his sour mood. If anything, he figured Max and Maggie had the better end of the sleeping deal. How could he fault them for that?

  Punching his pillow, Liam rolled over and closed his eyes. He tried to force his body to relax and his brain to stop its incessant thinking in the hope that maybe, just maybe, he could catch a tad more sleep.

  He hadn’t slept well. Every hour or so, he’d wake and thoughts of the woman downstairs would be merged with Christy, with that god-awful loss, and he’d toss and turn for another thirty minutes before drifting off again. He hated that.

  It had taken so long to come to terms with losing his wife and child. So damn long he’d worked to make peace with what couldn’t be changed. And now, a few days with Meredith and all that muck had churned to the surface.

  That accounted for his bad mood. He never wanted to return to those days of barely being able to breathe without feeling that sharp, incapacitating pain.

  Very purposefully, Liam turned his thoughts away from Christy, away from Meredith and instead focused on the day ahead. The activities that required his attention.

  He couldn’t really do a lot more workwise until power was restored. The generator kept the house livable, but the PCs were a major power drain and he wouldn’t risk developing prints. Yesterday, when he’d sequestered himself in his office, he’d spent the majority of his time organizing the digital photographs on his laptop until the battery had gotten too low to continue. And then, he’d spent another solid hour dozing in his chair. That was why he hadn’t heard Meredith’s knock, why he hadn’t known she’d left him a meal outside his door.

  And that was all it took for his mind to once again focus on what he did not want to focus on. Which also meant that any additional sleep was out of the question. He was up for the duration, which meant he might as well—

  Music.

  ABBA again interrupted his thoughts, and he felt his mouth stretch into a smile. A wide enough one that his cheeks hurt from the effort. And the fact that the smile came on its own accord, so quickly and so naturally, didn’t escape his analytical brain.

  This woman was something special. Someone special.

  And that made her even more dangerous. To his peace of mind, to the lifestyle that had saved him from being buried alive, to holding on to his sanity and every other damn thing he’d worked so hard to achieve since losing Christy, their baby and the future he’d believed was theirs for the taking. The future that would’ve existed, if not for the winds of fate. An unstoppable force, one you couldn’t predict or, in any true fashion, protect yourself from.

  But that very same force had brought Goldi to his couch.

  Standing, Liam strode to his bedroom window and pulled back the curtain. The snow had stopped. Not so much as a flurry whisked through the early morning air. It would take a full day, he knew from prior experience, before he’d have any possibility of safely escorting Meredith into Steamboat Springs. So, fate had brought her to him, and now with the end of the storm, fate was allowing—encouraging?—her departure? Possibly.

  And maybe, just maybe, a twinge of regret lived alongside his relief.

  * * *

  “Of the many, many possibilities you could ask for as a prize, this is what you’re going with?” Liam asked Meredith later that day.

  His expression was a solid mix of shock and good humor. The good humor appealed obviously, but Meredith kind of enjoyed surprising him, too. She had the feeling he wasn’t used to being surprised.

  “Didn’t you spend enough time outside in the snow the other night? One would think that experience would be enough to last a lifetime.”

  Ha. If he thought that would change her mind, he was very much wrong. “That was different, which you know full well.” She avoided looking him straight in the eye. Every time she did that, she fell a little more. A little harder. “I won fair and square.”

  They were dressed similarly, in jeans and sweatshirts. Her clothes hadn’t yet been washed, but they were dry and serviceable enough for a couple of hours outside. And okay, she maybe felt a little bad at making him spend more time outside—he’d been out there most of the morning, clearing snow from the porch and pathways—but not bad enough to give in on her prize.

  They were going to build a snowman together. And darn it all, one way or another, she planned on eliciting at least one laugh from him before they were done. Somehow.

  “That’s a point.” He gave her one of those long, searching looks before asking, “You’re sure you’re up for it? You weren’t doing all that well last night.”

  “I’m feeling great. So we’re agreed?”

  “Sure, if this is really what you wa
nt.” He gave his head a quick shake. “But I don’t know, if I were you, I’d definitely be going for the Harry & David fruit-of-the-month club.”

  “Good thing you’re not me, then! But...um, I will need some gloves. And maybe a hat and a scarf? If you have any extras I could borrow.” And then, before he could use that as an excuse to weasel out of her plan, she continued with, “If you don’t, I’ll just use socks again.”

  “Uh-huh, as if I’d allow such a thing.” He went upstairs and returned a scant minute later with a pair of gloves. “There are a few extra hats and scarves in the mudroom. What else do we need? I have never actually constructed a person made of snow before.”

  Meredith had been in the process of putting on her coat, but Liam’s words stopped her midzip. “Are you joking?” she asked. “Because I have never met a person over the age of four who hasn’t built a snowman.”

  “I spent most of my childhood years in Florida, with my grandfather.”

  She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. There were so many obvious questions, but how could she ask them? Why he grew up “mostly” with his grandfather wasn’t her business.

  “I was hoping you’d give me an answer I could use as fodder for picking on you,” she said in a teasing sort of way. “But no, you had to go with a perfectly logical response.”

  Shrugging, he tossed her the gloves, which she—surprisingly—managed to catch. “Just the facts, ma’am, just the facts. So are we ready?”

  “Well, we need a carrot and...you wouldn’t happen to have a bag of coal lying around, would you? Maybe a handful of buttons?” She finished zipping her coat and slid on the gloves. They were meant for Liam’s hands, so they were loose, but she didn’t mind. “Oh, another scarf!”

  “You take this snowman stuff pretty seriously, huh? I don’t know what I have lying around, but I’ll see what I can come up with.”

  Did she hear a hint of frustration? Maybe. “Or, you know, it doesn’t really matter,” she said. “We can use sticks and stones and whatever else we can find. The goal is to have fun.”

  “Right. Fun,” he said over his shoulder as he headed toward the kitchen. “Let’s go do this, before it gets any colder out there.”

  Yup. Definitely frustration. Due to her and her choice of a prize—which was supposed to be silly and lighthearted—or due to the admission that he’d been raised by his grandfather and the unspoken story behind the statement? Or something else entirely?

  This, like so many other aspects of Liam’s personality, she couldn’t hazard a guess. The man just did not give enough away for any shot at an accurate prediction. She thought he was that way with everybody, so the short time they had known each other didn’t really come into play.

  Her goal hadn’t changed, though. One laugh, that was all she needed to coax from him. Come hell or high water, another freak snowstorm, or some other out-of-the-ordinary event, she would get that laugh. It seemed of the utmost importance, even if she didn’t know why.

  “Goldi?” Liam’s voice, the volume of which was just shy of a bona fide shout, hit her ears. “Do you want to build this damn snowman or not?”

  “You bet I do,” she said under her breath. One laugh. How hard could that be? Following the same path he’d taken less than a minute ago, she called out, “On my way!”

  She found him standing in the mudroom, holding a long, purple scarf and a matching knit hat. His sister’s or an old girlfriend’s? Or hell, maybe he had a current girlfriend. Who knew, and yup, that was yet another series of questions she refused to ask, albeit for different reasons than all the others she’d smothered so far.

  Accepting the scarf and hat, she quickly put them on and then, offering him a grin, said, “Well, what are we waiting for? I’m ready. Are you?”

  “Sure. Ready enough anyway,” he said in a sandpaper-dry voice. He whistled and Max and Maggie ran to the door, tails wagging. Well, at least they were excited. “You’re in charge of this expedition, by the way. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

  Finally, because she had to say something even if it wasn’t what she really wanted to say, she said, “Are you okay? I mean, if you really don’t want to do this, that’s fine.”

  Those ridiculously beautiful eyes of his found hers, and there it was again...that spark of attraction that sizzled and popped in her blood.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “Just feeling antsy today, ready for everything to get back to normal. But I suppose every man should build a snowman once in his lifetime, and I likely never would have without prodding.”

  Not an enthusiastic response, but she’d take it. Happily, even.

  He held the door open, allowing Max and Maggie to take off in an exuberant run. Meredith went next, stepping carefully onto the recently cleared path, and waited for Liam.

  The snow was piled in uneven slopes brought on by the high winds, and the trees were weighted and almost completely white. It was beautiful and quiet and deeply spiritual in its serenity. She had the out-there realization that she could live here, in this silent sanctuary, without any trouble whatsoever.

  She might even be happier here than she’d ever been before in her life.

  A nice thought, but not exactly a feasible one. Forcing a smile, she turned toward Liam. “I think we should make our snowman over there,” she said, pointing toward a relatively flat section of snow in front of a cluster of fir trees and a single towering aspen. “He’ll look good over there and easily visible from the house. What do you think?”

  “Ah... I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Meredith. Consider—”

  “It’s a great idea, Mr. Grump,” she interrupted. If this continued, she might have to smack him with a snowball or two. “My prize, right? I should get to choose.”

  A brow raised, but he nodded. “Mr. Grump, is it?” Shielding his gaze with one hand, he looked toward the area she’d already pointed out. “Perhaps I am simply confused and incorrectly identifying the spot you’re after. Why don’t you walk over there and show me where you mean? I’m quite sure that will help me visualize what you’ve so easily seen.”

  “I can do that.” Pleased he’d shown any interest, she walked off the shoveled path toward the section of trees she’d chosen. Initially, she didn’t have too much trouble, as the snow directly around the path wasn’t that high, probably because Liam had leveled it out some. But as she continued her forward motion, that quickly changed.

  She stopped and looked down, saw the snow had already reached about midcalf and she wasn’t even at the deepest portion yet. Reconsidering, she turned around, only to see Liam watching her with his arms crossed over his chest and wearing a smart-ass grin. The brat! He’d known and hadn’t said a thing.

  Well. He’d tried to. She’d interrupted him, sure he was hip-deep in grump mode. Of course, she should’ve considered the snow obstacle on her own.

  “Problem?” Liam asked, his smile widening another notch. “That can’t be the spot you meant, is it? I really misunderstood, then. I thought you wanted it nearer the trees?”

  “Well, I did.”

  “But?”

  “It seems as if I—”

  “Yes? Do tell. Is there a problem? Something you want to share?” His lips twitched in an almost laugh. “Having second thoughts, are you?”

  “Nope. No problem. No second thoughts.” Narrowing her eyes, she shrugged. “I...ah... I just wanted to be sure you were paying attention and not playing with the dogs.”

  “Never fear, Goldi. At this moment, you have my undivided attention.”

  Yeah. She bet she did. “Good!” And with that, she turned around again, dead-set on getting herself through the snow and to those trees.

  To prove what, exactly? And why? She didn’t have an answer for either question other than pure stubbornness. In her book, that was more than enoug
h reason. Even if the stance fell on the slightly childish side.

  She pushed through another few feet, the level of the snow creeping upward as she slogged forward. Another few feet and she just about had to climb out of the snow for each step as it had almost reached her knees. No amount of sheer stubbornness would get her the rest of the way without tumbling face-first into the snow. And if that happened, she had zero doubt that Liam would insist she go inside and change into another pair of his pajamas and rest.

  So maybe this hadn’t been a true battle of wills, but she sort of felt as if he had won. Which was fine, she supposed. Maybe that would put him in a better mood for the rest of the day. Giving up, she faced Liam and shrugged. “Can’t get there,” she said. “Snow is too high.”

  “Reason over stubbornness, eh? I wondered how far you’d take it.”

  “Just enjoying the view, huh?”

  “Something like that, but another step or two and I would’ve stopped you. I don’t want you to fall again,” he said. “Be careful coming back, okay?”

  His words soothed. Warmed her heart, too. “I’ll be fine. Just have to follow the same—” And naturally, because she was focused on talking and not her movement, she didn’t lift her right leg high enough to clear the ledge she’d created on her way in, and yup, she fell. Face-first.

  The heavy snow surrounded her body, almost sucking her in as she imagined quicksand would, burying her face and leaving her without the ability to breathe. A now familiar terror, one she’d sincerely hoped she’d never experience again, erupted into being. Really? She’d survived being lost in the middle of a snowstorm, but she couldn’t pick herself up out of this?

  Pressing her arms downward, she pushed with all her might, and just as she did, Liam’s arms came around her and pulled her up. To him. To safety and oxygen and a pair of green eyes filled with fear that mirrored her own. Suddenly, the very last thing she cared about was building a damn snowman.