Mountain Man

by Jules Barnard

  We ran five miles. I’ve been running several times a week since Cali and I moved to Tahoe. I’ve acclimated to the altitude, so the run was easy.

  Beads of sweat work their way down the smooth lines of Lewis’s brow, but he’s not breathing heavily either. He lifts the bottom of his T-shirt and wipes his forehead—and a flash of abdominal muscles assaults my vision.

  I trip on the asphalt.

  Shit. I hop a couple times to make it look like I’m loosening up.

  We ran for forty-five minutes without incident, but Lewis pulls up his shirt, revealing his stomach, and my brain spasms. I saw him shirtless at the Beacon, but the sneak peek is entirely too sexy. Why did I think I could train with him?

  “You’re a runner,” he says, apparently not catching on to the effect his naked body had on me, thank God. “We’ll only use it to warm up if you’re running on your own. I’ll show you muscle-building exercises before I leave. Your backyard open?”

  I nod and we head inside my house. I grab bottles of water and lead Lewis out back. He drops the duffel he pulled from his truck and it lands with a thud and a poof of powdery soil.

  Lewis takes a gulp of water and screws the cap back on, looking me over. “You have a sports bra on under that?”

  Where’s he going with this? My extra-large T-shirt covers me from neck to thighs, stopping just above the bottom of my boxy running shorts. Attractive. “Yeah,” I say hesitantly.

  “Can you take off your shirt?”

  “What?”

  He stares impatiently. “I’m showing you exercises. I need to make sure you’ve got the posture and movements correct so you don’t hurt yourself. I can’t do that if you’re covered in a sack.”

  My mouth parts. Is he saying he noticed my effort to look shitty and he doesn’t approve?

  I whip off my top and glare. “Better?”

  His jaw tightens. He grumbles something I can’t decipher and reaches for his duffel. “Spread your legs shoulder-width apart.”

  Something about him telling me to spread my legs in his smooth, masculine voice sends a shiver down my back, which I ignore, ’cause it’s not helping. I do as he says and he hands me two seven-pound weights. He grabs another pair and executes a basic shoulder exercise.

  He nods. “Your turn. Keep your biceps level.”

  Lewis moves in front of me, feet spread until his eyes are nearly even with mine. Wide palms lightly cradle my elbows as I repeat his example, his fingers warming my skin. Wafts of aftershave and Lewis hit me, and my movements falter.

  I breathe deeply, but that makes it worse. I stare at his chin because I can’t look higher; his fathomless eyes are a dangerous place.

  He slides his hands off me and steps back, as if easing away from a feral animal. He crouches on his toes, watching me. “One set of twenty,” he says, his voice a touch unsteady.

  I need to get my mind off this tension between us. Lifting my arms the way he showed me, I try to clear my head. “I met your dad and he seems nice. Tell me about your mom.”

  Lewis’s gaze follows my movements as I perform the exercise. “Feisty. Smart. Runs the household.”

  I exhale and complete another rep. “Your dad isn’t in charge?” I don’t have a dad, so the inner workings of a real family are a bit of a mystery.

  Lewis chuckles sardonically. “No. My dad can be scattered, organization-wise. But my parents are good partners. My mom does the bookkeeping for the business. She’s just—you know—a strong woman.”

  I swallow, my next rep less steady. I don’t exude the strength he describes, but I feel it. I’ve just kept it locked away. “I think I’ve got this. What’s next?”

  He shows me four more exercises to build upper body strength, his steady gaze as I practice driving me nuts. Does he have to do that? Stare? I’m in a sports bra, which pretty much reveals everything, but he’s not even looking at my boobs. He’s gazing at my face, my eyes—like he’s seeing something not obvious from the outside.

  I don’t know why that stirs something in me. A stupid, wild fantasy of tipping him off balance and pouncing on him runs through my head.

  God, I’m more like my mom than I thought.

  Lewis stands and collects the heavier weights. “That’s good. Do the exercises I showed you every other day. Tomorrow we’ll train on obstacles.”

  “Mudder obstacles? The race lets us do that?”

  He zips the duffel closed. “No, we’re making our own.”

  “The whole team?”

  He shakes his head and looks over. “Just us. You need more work than they do.”

  Sad, but true. “Are the other participants creating mudder obstacles to practice on?”

  He shrugs as if to say, who cares. “You want to finish, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Crap. That’s all I need—to get annihilated on the field by a bunch of alpha dudes.

  “How about winning?” he asks.

  “That’s not something remotely realistic, but of course I want to win. Who wouldn’t want prize money?”

  He pulls the duffel on his shoulder and straightens. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you want the prize money?” he says.

  I grab my T-shirt and yank it over my head. “I just do.” Why is he so negative about me doing the race? “I could use it for school, okay?”

  He nods as if I’ve given him an acceptable explanation.

  What the hell? Who cares if I want to buy a new nose with the winnings?

  His mouth spreads into a sexy grin, and my heart skitters in my chest. “Good luck,” he says and walks toward the gate. “You’ll be up against me. I finaled last year.”

  Friggin’ hell. Women don’t compete against men, but still. He just threw down another challenge.

  Chapter Twelve

  I tug a sweatshirt over my pajama tank and tread into the kitchen in sleep boxers. There are thirty mugs to choose from in the cupboard. I usually grab the Adult Sippy Cup, but my hand gravitates to the Challenge Accepted mug with the arms-crossed caricature on the front. It’s been almost two weeks since Lewis showed me exercises in the backyard and he is extra careful during training sessions now to avoid touching me, as if he believes that what Drake did has me shying from men. He’s partially correct.

  I don’t want to be touched by other men, but Lewis? Lewis I’d like to climb and lick—it’s disturbing and intensifying the more time we spend together. I repeatedly remind myself he’s no good for me. That he’s not the safe choice and I’ll end up getting hurt. There’s also Mira still in the picture. But for some reason my libido has taken this moment in life to make a staggering appearance, and it wants him.

  I’m drawn to Lewis, and it’s not all lust. I wanted him to hold me after the Drake incident. What the hell? The closeness I feel toward him scares the crap out of me, so I’m trying to not think about it. He’s certainly making it easier with his training torture that leaves me in chronic pain, unable to feel much else.

  Lewis’s first obstacle replication consisted of a trip to an indoor climbing wall. Holy shit, my forearms hurt that night, and I haul heavy trays for a living. My arms quivered like crazy at work. Fortunately, I didn’t drop anything.

  The next outing was a boot camp regimen at his gym, where Lewis finagled a free thirty-day membership for me through his buddy who runs the place. After that bit of hell, I couldn’t sit without falling into a chair for two days. My muscles are never going to forgive me for what I’m putting them through.

  Out on the patio, I ease into the plastic lounge chair next the one Cali is sitting on and peer at the pines. A warm breeze swirls around my bare legs, giving me pleasure goose bumps. Cali returned from her mom’s, and after a few days of cold reception, we talked things out.

  “I should have said something sooner,” I told her when she returned. “I feel terrible how it came out.”

  “It was the sense of betrayal that hurt more than anything,” she said. “Then when I saw Jaeger hug
ging you and thought there was something between you two…I freaked out.”

  Cali came into work to talk to me after our argument. She saw Jaeger hugging me after Mason sent him over to check on me the night of the Drake incident, and she got the wrong idea. That’s why she left town. She needed space.

  “I like Jaeger. A lot,” she confessed. “It’s crazy how much I like him. When I saw you two hugging, and after you told me what Eric had done, I thought Jaeger was doing the same thing—hitting on you behind my back.”

  “There was never anything going on between me and Jaeger,” I reassured her. “He is one hundred percent into you.”

  She smiled this sweet, secret grin. “I figured that out when I visited Jaeger after I returned.”

  When it comes to this guy, I’ve realized Cali isn’t her normal laid-back self. In any case, there’s no more tension between us, thank God, but now Jaeger’s ex is causing problems.

  And seriously, what is up with the ex contingent messing with everyone? Jaeger’s been MIA dealing with this other girl, and Cali’s stressed out about it.

  I lean back on the lounge chair and point to the sky to distract Cali from her worries, and hey, because teasing her is fun. “I thought you wanted to get rid of your freckles? Shouldn’t you be in the shade or something?”

  “They’re not freckles.”

  Cali’s overly sensitive about her freckles. She has two on her nose—nothing compared to most strawberry blondes. I enjoy playing up her paranoia. It’s the least I can do, considering how much crap she gives me about my conservative clothing, my lack of makeup, the music I listen to—the list goes on. I’m doing her a favor; this will take her mind off Jaeger and his ex.

  “I have a light smattering of beauty marks and I’m wearing sunblock.”

  I’m already loving this argument. Cali is logical, except when it comes to her freckles. We’ve had this one before, but it never gets old. “Why risk it when the shade will prevent them?”

  Her pale blue eyes peer above her book, Poetry and Prose. The title alone triggers a yawn. “You’re starting to sound like my mother. I’m making vitamin D. It’s healthy.”

  “But if you’re wearing sunblock, doesn’t that prevent vitamin D production?”

  Her face turns a bright shade of pink. Steam will be coming out of the top of her head soon. “Are you done?”

  “Making a logical point? Yes, I’m finished.”

  Her eyes narrow. “You’ve been out and about lately. Still seeing Lewis?”

  I frown. She knows nothing is going on, but I guess teasing is a two-way street. “We’re friends. He’s helping me train for that mudder competition I’m doing.”

  Lewis doesn’t have a girlfriend, he has a Mira, which apparently is a hell of a lot more stressful than an actual girlfriend. Cali witnessed them together. Even if this thing with Mira isn’t romantic, I doubt very much that Cali will endorse him. But Lewis has kept things platonic between us during training and I’ve managed to contain my lustful urges, so it’s a nonissue.

  Lewis has been a great coach. I already notice a difference in my strength. With his help, I’m sure I’ll finish the race. I might even come in with a good time. That would be a huge confidence booster.

  “Good luck with your training. I’ll salute you the next time my spoon dips into butter pecan goodness.”

  Her addiction to strange ice cream flavors, butter pecan being on the top of that list, is about as natural as her love of green olives. I scrunch my nose. “Don’t worry about saving me some.”

  She grins and sets her book down, her expression turning serious. “Gen, I’ve gotta find a job.”

  Aaand that was a topic change, but one I understand.

  When Cali returned from her mom’s, we didn’t just talk about Jaeger and Eric—I told her what happened with Drake. It turns out, Drake was the coworker who gave Cali a ride home from the club that one night. I never thought about it, but she’d lost her job afterward. Now I understand why.

  Drake had tried to force a kiss on Cali and God knows what else he would have done if Jaeger hadn’t followed her home. Cali was keeping silent about her feelings for Jaeger, so her options were to either lie about Jaeger’s presence that night, because she’d gotten it in her head—silly girl—that I was interested in him, or to not mention what happened. She chose the latter.

  God, we sucked. We’d both kept something from each other, protecting our feelings, and not wanting to hurt the other. Lame. Note to self: just tell your BF what the hell is going on. The shit might hit the fan, but at least you can talk through it.

  Cali’s story about Drake adds a scary new light to the entire situation. The way things went down for her—getting fired, no questions asked—I’m not convinced Drake is the only person pulling strings. Others must be corrupt inside the casino as well.

  “What can I do to help with your job search?” I ask.

  “I’m not having luck finding one at the other casinos. I’ve looked into old work contacts, but nothing pays enough. You think you could talk to Nessa? See if she knows anyone looking for a superstar employee?”

  “Arrogant much?”

  “What?” Her look is all innocence. “You know it’s true.”

  I do. I kick Cali’s ass at hand-eye coordination, but she could pummel me in a contest of mental agility.

  “I’ll give her a call.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “So what do you think? You know anyone looking for a summa cum laude graduate?” I ask Nessa over the phone. I would have added with acceptance into Harvard Law, but part of Cali’s angst this summer stems from her not wanting to go to law school in the fall. It’s what her mom and others expected, but Cali wants to find a job so she can afford to take art classes for the sketching she loves. Thank God she’s finally taking it seriously. Jaeger, with his art background, helped convince her of her talent. Apparently, my opinion all these years wasn’t good enough. In all honesty, I’m happy for her.

  A muffled sound like a yawn comes through the receiver. “Sorry. Tired.” Nessa just woke from an afternoon nap—a girl after my own heart. Not a morning sleeper, but definitely a sleeper. “You could check with Sallee Construction. Lewis mentioned his dad is looking for someone to support their architect. Not sure if Cali has the skills they’re looking for, but it’s worth a shot. Lewis’s dad is sooo nice. If John doesn’t have something for her, he’ll ask around, and he knows everyone.”

  “I met John. His company is building the mudder obstacles. Zach referred me.”

  “Perfect, so tell Cali to get in touch with him and have her mention we sent her.”

  I could talk to Lewis, but his father is just as good, and I’d rather not ask Lewis for another favor. He added me to his mudder team. It’s to his advantage to help me train if I’m on his team, but I’m getting the better bargain. Without his help, I’d be struggling.

  The second Nessa and I hang up, my phone vibrates. I assume it’s a text from her with another lead, but the message is from Lewis.

  Lewis: Have plans tonight? The team is getting together for pizza and beer. You should come. It’ll be teambuilding.

  Teambuilding. Not a date.

  Gen: Sure. Where/what time?

  A couple of hours later, I scan Avalanche Pizza. Even though I’m wearing my normal crisp button-down tucked into skinny jeans, there’s a chance I put more effort than usual into my appearance. I straightened my hair and applied makeup—I also paired my conservative outfit with pointy-toed stilettos instead of flats. The heels are only two inches high, but they add a little something extra.

  A youngish crowd elevates the noise in the restaurant to a low roar. Zach sees me first and signals me over. Lewis is with him, but his back is to me.

  Other than Zach, I haven’t met the others on my team. Apparently, I’m the only female, based on the male bodies at the table with Zach and Lewis.

  I walk up and Lewis turns and scans me from head to toe, sending a flutter through my
belly. He returns his attention to the guys and swigs his pint. No smile, nothing.

  My chest deflates.

  Damn. Dismissed, just like that. I mean, it’s better this way. Less complicated if he doesn’t make any moves, but I can’t help feeling disappointed. We’ve gotten to know each other these last few weeks and…I like the guy. He’s fair, pushes me hard, and when he thinks I’m not paying attention, he watches me. I hate to admit it, but the dismissal hurts.

  Zach hands me a beer and makes room for me on the bench. He introduces me to the others.

  “Don’t let her sweet look fool you,” he says. “Gen, here, is a shark. She was dunking coins left and right during Quarters the night I met her, and kicking our asses.”

  One guy’s brow quirks. He reaches over to an abandoned table and grabs a shallow, empty glass. He sets it in front of us and digs in his pocket, dumping three quarters, two dimes, and a stringy ball of lint on the table.

  Lewis shakes his head. “We’re training tomorrow. Take it easy. The race is only three weeks away.”

  Someone blows off the lint and more pockets empty until a dozen quarters pile in front of me. We really only need a couple.

  “Let’s test her skills,” the guy with the glass says. “Any girl who can sink a quarter the first time deserves our respect, even if we have to drag her ass around the course in three weeks.”

  So they think I’ll weigh them down? I can’t say I disagree, but I will kick their asses at Quarters.

  I pick up the coin, glance at the glass, and look straight at the heckler. I strike the edge of my palm on the table and let the quarter fly.

  It sinks with a clean ping.

  “Whoaaa!” my team shouts above the drone, slapping each other’s backs.

  I sweep through twenty-two ringers before my luck runs out. Lewis acted bored the entire time, but the rest of my team gulped beer with every shot—ignoring Lewis’s grandfatherly rule about not drinking. A few of the guys ask me about sports in high school and college. One of them asks me if I have a boyfriend.