Promised to the Mountain Man
Thickwood, CO
Frankie Love
Contents
About
1. Holt
2. Hattie
3. Holt
4. Hattie
5. Holt
6. Hattie
7. Holt
8. Hattie
9. Holt
10. Hattie
Epilogue 1
Epilogue 2
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About the Author
Copyright © 2020 by Frankie Love
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
About
Promised to the Mountain Man
by Frankie Love
I saved a man’s life.
In return, he promised me a bride.
I didn’t think he was serious.
But when his daughter shows up at my cabin, I realize it was no joke.
She’s been sent here as my wife.
Hattie’s a curvy thing with copper-red hair but there’s no fire in her eyes.
This girl is broken. Scared. And goddamn terrified of a hard ass mountain man like me.
She thinks this was my idea, my plan… and no amount of explaining can change her mind.
But when tragedy strikes, she’s forced to put her feelings aside.
We’re in this together now, whether she likes it or not.
Dear Reader,
Ready for a forced fiancée, a forest fire, and a few frisky encounters!?
Hattie and Holt are fire and ice… which means someone has to melt!
Holt is hot, horny and hard.
Get ready to fan this flame!
xo, frankie
One
Holt
I pause for a while on the trail, looking out at the amazing view, and wait for Jimbo to catch up. He’s going on sixteen now and his joints are starting to act up, but he’d give me hell if I left him at home. My hikes these days are slower, but I like his quiet company, so it’s all right with me.
He’s sniffing around a little sapling and finally lifts his leg, then trots up to me. “Ready?” I ask, and he swings his tail left and right at the sound of my voice. It makes me chuckle. Really, this old dog is the best company I’ve had in a good long while. The only company I’ve had. Consistently, anyway.
I live a good life here in Thickwood, Colorado, don’t get me wrong. The town is great — filled with good people — though I personally prefer to stick to myself. I live in a beautiful area in a spacious but cozy cabin — somewhere in between being totally isolated and living with some conveniences. I have a good, reliable truck, and a good, loyal dog. Honestly, I have everything I’ve ever really wanted.
But lately I haven’t been feeling all that fulfilled by it anymore, and I think I know why.
I’ve settled down, into a routine, and I’m bored as fuck. There’s no one to share any of this stuff with. When Jimbo does something goofy, there’s no one to laugh with. When I cook something that turns out amazing, there’s no one to share it with.
I’ve been resisting relationships for a long time — not for any exciting or mysterious reason. I just haven’t met anyone I’ve clicked with in forever — but I think it’s time to bite the bullet and start dating again.
The thought makes me simultaneously happy and hesitant. Because although I’m getting sick of being stuck in a rut, I am still set in my ways. Introducing someone new would stir everything up. It could ruin everything I’ve built for myself.
It doesn’t help things much that living out here doesn’t usually introduce me organically to people my own age.
A hike like this always clears my head up straight away and lets me weigh all the pros and cons of whatever’s on my mind. This walk has me convinced, if grudgingly, to head into town more often and try to strike up more conversations. Hell is other people, sure, but there might be a little heaven in finding my soulmate.
If you believe in that kind of stuff.
I’m torn from my thoughts, suddenly, by the weirdest sight I’ve ever seen on these trails. Another hiker bursts from the trees, swatting at the air around his head, and blows past me at a speed I’ve never seen. It takes me a moment to realize what it is that’s got him pounding up dust clouds in his wake, but when I do, I curse and back up.
The air around him is thick and buzzing with fat black bees. He emits a strangled scream, and I really don’t blame him. I wrack my brains trying to come up with a way to help him, but in only a second, he’s gone, disappeared over the crest of the trail. The only reason I have to believe he was here at all is the screeching I can still hear beyond the hill.
Then the scream stops, abruptly, and I’m already running to see what the hell is going on. The bees are dispersing as if they’ve lost interest and I can see why.
The hiker is rolling rapidly down the hill.
“Damn,” I say aloud, watching the poor guy tumble helplessly downwards. I turn to my old dog and hold up my hand. “Stay here.” Then I hop off the edge of the trail and make my way after the poor lost soul.
“I’m coming!” I shout after him as he crumples at the bottom of the hill. “Don’t move a muscle, okay? I’m gonna radio for help.”
Any good hiker knows to bring a radio with them. He’s stirring around at the bottom, and I slip and slide down, holding onto rocks and stepping as carefully as I can as I radio for a helicopter. At least he isn’t dead.
“Can you speak?” I ask when I reach his side, wiping at my forehead with my wrist. The guy is writhing in pain, and he grits his teeth and opens one eye to stare at me. Blearily. Then he nods. I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Fuck. It’s my leg,” he grunts. “I think I’m all right, but my leg… is it broken?”
I very carefully move away one of the rocks that helped slow his fall and see his leg is bloodied. So are his pants. He screws up his face, setting his jaw as I nod. “It doesn’t look great, but it’s just your leg. It could have been so much worse. The helicopter is on its way.”
He sucks in a few breaths and lets them out. I can tell straight away that he’s been in serious pain before. He knows how to breathe through it and how to stay calm.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Holt. Holt Hanover.”
“Holt. Damn, I’m glad you were here. The bees… I can’t believe how stupid I was.”
“You from around here?” I ask, taking in his brand-new hiking boots.
“No, doctor ordered me some R&R, and I came here from LA, and… fuck, this hurts,” he hisses.
I see he’s in pain, and hell, he needs help. Badly. “Don’t talk — we’ll get you taken care of. Thickwood may be in the middle of nowhere, but we know how to take care of people.”
He’s getting paler, and his hands are trembling, but he’s fighting through it like no one I’ve ever seen. I’d be impressed if I wasn’t hopped up on adrenaline, waiting for the next task.
“I wouldn’t have been able to move from here,” he says, his voice thin. “Which means you just saved my life.”
I shake my head. “I did what anyone would have done.”
“How can I pay you back?”
“You don’t have to do anything,” I say. “I’m gonna stay with you until the chopper gets here, and you’re going to be fine, you hear?”
He gives me a tight smile. “Tell me why you live here. Give me something else to think about.”
I wish the helicopter was here already, but I know it’s going to take a bit of time. So I open my mouth and try to explain why I love this big old mountain and this tiny ass town.
“We got Lake Aspyn, best spot for watching fireworks. McKenzie’s Diner, which makes a mean cup of joe. Ridge Elementary—”
He cuts me off. “You got kids?”
I shake my head. “No kids. Never married. But I own a supply shop in town, and I keep busy.” I look him over, and I see his pain etched on his face. I feel bad for the city slicker.
“My daughter would love it here.” He presses his fist to his mouth, trying to block out the ache.
“You have a daughter?”
“Yeah, she’s all grown up — time passed too fast. Being here, in Thickwood, it seems to slow. If I could do it all over again, it’s where I would have raised her.”
“Too late for a second chance?” I ask. This man’s getting nostalgic. Here he is, near death and looking back at his life.
“Listen, Holt. In my world, we try not to owe people things. So, it would actually be better for both of us if you just let me pay you back and we can be done with it.”
I frown. “It’s not a big deal…” But he waves my words away with one hand, wincing in pain.
“Stop,” he wheezes. In the distance, to my great relief, I hear the rhythmic sputtering of an old helicopter. “What do you need? Money?”
“No, no,” I say. “It’s—”
“Property? A job?”
“No, I have all that. I have everything I need. I’m serious.”
“Everyone’s missing something,” he says.
“I have everything I want and everything I need. I mean, except a wife.” I chuckle, but he doesn’t laugh with me.
Tough crowd.
“A wife,” he whispers. Then, louder, “I can get you a wife.”
“A… what?”
I go quiet, mostly just stunned by the offer. Where’s this dude gonna find me a damn wife? Who the hell is he? “You can get me a what?” I say, sure I misheard.
“A wife,” he says, gritting his teeth at the pain as the helicopter gets closer. “A beautiful wife. The woman of your dreams.”
The ladder is descending from the helicopter, and my radio is chattering. Confused, and a little amused by the situation now that it’s resolved, I help the poor guy up and into the helicopter, and then start the climb back up the hill. Jimbo beats his tail on the dusty ground when I make it up, and I pat him on the head.
“You’ll never believe what just happened,” I say to him, and we carry on down the trail.
Two
Hattie
I remember when I was a kid, I used to look out of my high bedroom window at the streets of LA below and I would imagine I was a princess locked away in a tower. Maybe someday, someone would come along and rescue me, I would think, but no one ever did.
Nowadays, my hair is cut shorter (because I’ve accepted that I’m never going to lower it down for someone to climb up) and I’m a little older and wiser. I’ve stopped romanticizing the fact that my father is the worst man on earth. Stopped making it seem like fiction to make myself feel better. He’s not a dragon, or an evil sorcerer. He’s just a criminal. And I’m not a princess — I’m just a crime boss’s daughter.
Now when I look out at the streets below me, I don’t think about who’s going to come and rescue me. I think about how I’m going to bust my ass to get away from this life.
I hate my father. I hate him more than anyone or anything. I hate anyone who associates with him, anyone who does business with him. My hate is what fuels me, but it still hasn’t been enough to set me free. Not yet, anyway.
“Hattie.”
I wheel around from the window and fold my arms when I see it’s Rick, my bodyguard. He’s a towering man — kind of like a big stone golem created by an evil wizard to… you get the point — and there’s nothing intimidating about me. I’m five-foot-nothing with a shock of red hair that Rick himself used to ruffle when I was a kid. Just to annoy me.
“What?” I say.
“Oh, you in a bad mood?” he asks, mock surprised. “That’s new.”
I roll my shoulders. Sometimes I appreciate his sense of humor. Apparently not today.
“Pack your things.”
I shake my head. “What? Where am I going?”
“Not sure, actually, but you’ve got a plane to catch in a couple of hours, so you need to pack up.” He jabs a finger right at me. “Don’t forget a hairbrush. You gotta look nice.”
This must be one of his stupid jokes. It isn’t funny at all, though, because it’s absolutely the kind of thing Dad would do. I rest my hands on my hips. “What are you talking about? I don’t have anywhere to be.”
“That’s not what Daddy says,” he teases. “He says you’re getting married. And soon, so get packing. I don’t know the weather there, so pack smart.”
Maybe he’s joking.
“Are you joking?”
“No,” he says.
Oh.
“I don’t want to go,” I tell him. I mean, I don’t want to stay here either, but I definitely don’t want to go meet some gross brute who does business with my father and his associates. Let alone marry him. It’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.
“Sorry, Hattie,” Rick says, and he flings open my closet door, exposing all my clothes and a pile of bags.
Bags I’ve fantasized about packing up and fleeing with for as long as I’ve had them. And now it’s actually happening, and it’s the worst thing ever. I didn’t want to leave like this. Definitely not like this.
He stands over me as I blink away tears, take a deep breath, and begin to sort through my stuff. At least I’m getting away from this city. I can deal with whatever comes next when it comes. It doesn’t mean this isn’t crazy and heartbreaking and terrifying. And so typical of my asshole father.
I wipe at my eyes and the next few hours are a blur. Rick and some other big, burly guys come and help me carry my bags, and then I’m speeding down the highway. My tower is behind me, and suddenly I realize something I would never have admitted to myself until now.
I feel vulnerable out here.
Rick is clearly a little guilty about this whole thing, but he’s being brisk and businesslike. Everyone who’s ever had to deal with me is the same. They have to do what my father says, no matter what I want.
In fact, I can’t even remember the last time anyone asked me what that was.
“The wedding’s in two weeks,” he says after a long stretch of silence. “We’re here, Hattie.”
Now tears are pouring down my cheeks and I can’t hold them back anymore. This is real.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he adds, seeing the look on my face. “Don’t run. You can’t run. Your father has half the country in his pocket. You won’t get far, and you’ll wish you’d never tried.” He clears his throat, as if saying that made him feel bad. Good.
I’m holding my luggage like a safety blanket, clutching it to my chest as I climb up the steps into a private jet. How the hell did this happen so fast, with no warning whatsoever? My heart is hammering in my throat, and I’m eyeing the runway as if I could just throw my bag at the pilot and bolt. How far would I get? Ten feet? Twelve?
Angry, betrayed, confused, I sit down and wipe my cheeks. I don’t want to cry, but it’s hard to stop. I pull up Dad’s number and press ‘Call’, hanging up when it goes to voicemail and calling again. He won’t ignore me. This is bad enough already, but he can’t ignore me forever.
Finally, I hear his voice at the other end, and he has the gall to sound annoyed. “Hattie? Why are you calling? You should be on the plane by now.”
I feel my cheeks heat up and I explode. “Why am I calling? Why am I calling?!” I yell. “You’re having me shipped off to some strange, creepy guy and you’re not sure why I’d be calling? Are you kidding?”
“Listen,” he says, “if you’re going to be emotion
al, I’m going to hang up right now and we can do this when you’ve calmed down.” I’m seeing spots. But I take a breath — I won’t get anywhere if he hangs up on me. “You’re doing this. End of discussion.”
The phone clicks — he’s hung up on me. And when I call back, it’s turned off. Looks like he got his way anyway.
I should have at least yelled more.
Three
Holt
I’m making myself dinner, humming along to a song and tossing scraps to Jimbo as I go, when there’s a loud knock at the door.
I’m not expecting anyone, so I pause and stare over, wondering if it’s a mistake or a solicitation, but there’s another knock, louder this time.
“Hang on,” I call, trying not to sound irritated as I switch off the gas flame and wipe my hands with a dishtowel. “Hush,” I say to the dog, who’s letting out a couple of wheezing barks, and I throw open the door, ready to tell whoever it is to come back in an hour or so, but… I freeze.
Because on the other side of my front door is the most stunning sight I’ve ever seen.
A foot shorter than me, at least, with a mane of red hair glowing in the sunlight, and a scowl twisting her red lips that emphasizes razor-sharp cheekbones. Her green eyes are lined with thick, dark lashes.
And she looks angry as hell.
Arms folded, face tilted away. And she has bags at her feet.
“Uh,” I begin. “Hi?”
She shuffles from foot to foot, and when she finally looks me in the eye, her cheeks flush an angry red. “Hi,” she snaps, almost mockingly. “Well, here I am.”
Promised to the Mountain Man: Thickwood, CO Page 1