The Mountain Man and His Billionaire

by CJ Turner

“Are you okay, Mr. Grant?” said the gate attendant.

  “I'm fine, just, eewe, covered in coffee.”

  “The flight attendant will give you towels to clean up in business class. I'll call ahead. I hope you enjoy your flight.”

  Manu huffed in disgust as he walked onto the connector to the plane. He knew this song and dance. The twink was an entitled rich kid from New York. Manu hated when people used their money to justify acting as if they should get better treatment than anyone else. Still, it must suck to soak your clothes with coffee before a flight.

  He slung his backpack from his shoulder and dug into it.

  “What are you doing?” said the twink with indignation. “I need to get to that plane.”

  Manu pulled what he searched for from his pack.

  “Here,” he said. Without glancing at the twink, he tossed a pair of summer sweatpants over his shoulder.

  “They're big for you but, with your attitude, you should fill them fine.”

  He hustled down the ramp, not wanting to spy the twink, who, by being hot and having a smart mouth, forced him to give up a pair of sweatpants. Manu was excessively aware of the man walking behind him, and he tried not to think about his lean body and piercing blue eyes. There was no way that even if the kid were gay, he'd be interested in Manu. Manu admitted he was a mess owing to his business teetering on bankruptcy and a family that barely spoke to him because of his orientation.

  At the entrance of the plane, the flight attendant stepped to the side.

  “There's one seat at the back in the middle of three seats,” she said solicitously. Manu gave her the barest of smiles. Women never did and never could interest him. At times he wished it could be different because it would make his life easier to navigate. His family wouldn't treat him like a diseased black sheep, and Manu could marry and settle into a safe Illinois life with a wife and 2.4 children. But that wouldn't ever be his life, and he didn't want it anyway.

  “Hey,” said the twink behind.

  Manu glanced over his shoulder despite his best efforts and took one last peep at the gorgeous young man. His heart pinged with a longing he must deny.

  “Thanks,” said the twink.

  Manu stared and stood speechless in the aisle. And this was not him at all.

  “Gentlemen, please take your seats. We're nearly ready to take off.”

  “Sure,” said Manu. “Sorry.”

  Manu took a right and traveled down the narrow path to find his seat. When he stashed his backpack in the overhead bin, he turned his head toward business class. Manu discovered it disappointed him not to spot the twink standing at the entrance to the cabin. He, Mr. Grant, must have walked behind to business class, leaving Manu alone with a chub that refused to deflate. Manu took off his hoodie and laid it across his lap to hide his discomfort.

  Business-class disembarked first, and being in the back of the plane, Manu didn't score a last glimpse of the twink.

  Just as well, he told himself.

  Still, he couldn't get the image of the blond-headed man out of his head, especially the idea of the man's legs in the air after he twisted to sit on his butt.

  The image occupied his thoughts as he climbed into his Range Rover and drove the nearly three hours to his cabin at Mountain Shadow Lake. Nestled in the arms of the Rockies, the mountain rose sharply on his right. Mountain Shadow Village was a great place to lead tours into the National Forest while still providing services like hotels and restaurants for tourists. He pulled his truck into the long drive, driving slowly on the grade, pitch dark beyond the range of his headlights. The driveway skirted the lake as it ascended an incline to the cabin. As he reached the house, a black and white border collie bounded at him from the dark, and Manu's heart sank. George should not be here. That was their agreement.

  The border collie greeted Manu enthusiastically and, despite his misgivings, he rubbed his neck as the dog jumped on him.

  “Hey, Jack,” he said. “What are you doing here? Where's George?”

  Jack whined, ran toward the porch lit with a single light, and returned with his ball. Manu pulled his backpack from the back of the Range Rover, with his gut clenching. He didn't see George's car, but the dog was here. What was George up to now?

  His feet hit the porch floorboards attached to the sloped-roof cabin when he discovered the note taped to his door. Manu noted with anger the empty water bowl by the door and a bag of dog food that poor Jack had ripped open. How long did Jack wait here by himself?

  Muttering to himself about George's irresponsibility, Manu swiped the bowl from the porch and filled it with water from the outside spigot. As soon as he set it down, Jack attacked the water, lapping it greedily.

  Manu's anger spiked when he pulled the message from his door.

  “Please care for Jack. I had an opportunity that was too good to turn down.”

  No mention of where he went or when he'd be back. If there were such a thing as dog custody, Manu would sue for it. But there wasn't, though George and Manu's relationship lasted long enough for George's dog to consider Manu a part of his pack.

  Manu crumpled the paper and opened the front door. He had been absent for three days, and he wondered when George abandoned his dog on Manu's doorstep. Manu tossed the backpack on his sofa. With a sigh, he entered the kitchen to fetch the broom and dustpan. Manu couldn't leave the dog food on the porch. It would attract mice, rats, raccoons, and skunks.

  Just like George to leave extra work for me.

  Finishing that, he brought in the dog food and water bowl and, taking the hint, Jack walked in. But from somewhere, the canine had fished his leash and held it in his mouth. He looked up at Manu with hopeful eyes.

  Manu groaned.

  “Sorry, buddy, no walk. It's three in the morning, and I'm beat. We'll hike on the mountain after I get some sleep.”

  At the word “no,” Jack dropped the leash and huffed. With a sorrowful doggie glance, he climbed the stairs to Manu's loft to find his once-accustomed place on Manu's bed.

  Manu shed his clothes and entered the shower. As the water beat down on his body, the image of the twink flashed in his mind again and, despite his exhaustion, his cock got hard. Remembering the man's equipment through those swim trunks had Manu going. The scalding water and soap, along with his hand, brought him to a blinding orgasm in record time.

  He leaned his head against the tiles under the water and sucked in deep breaths. This overwhelming desire was the same as when he met George, which should be a warning sign. He was grateful he didn't have to see the twink again because he was too raw still from the breakup with George to even think about trying even something casual.

  After sleeping in after ten and scarfing a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee, he dressed and put on his hiking boots.

  “Let's go, Jack. Time for that walk.”

  Jack jumped on Manu in excitement and only settled down when they were on the mountain. The air this high always carried a dryness that almost sunburnt the air molecules. It differed from the sea level of New York that always seemed moist, or the dirty air of his boyhood home, Illinois. But the air was clean, and Manu enjoyed drawing a deep breath without worrying what carcinogens he sucked in. And at this time of the morning and this time of year, the heat was a comfortable eighty degrees. He could live with that.

  He found a rare stick on the ground and threw it ahead for Jack to catch, which he did two times. The third time Jack tossed the stick, Jack started barking furiously and then dashed ahead.

  “Hey, Jack, wait!”

  But Jack didn't, forcing Manu to pick up his feet to chase the animal. He had no idea what Jack barked about. His worry spiked when Jack stopped barking, so he ran faster. But when he got to the top of the rise, he couldn't believe what he saw.

  The twink, Mr. Grant, posed on a rock, dressed in the same orange shirt and Manu's gray sweatpants, petting Jack like an old friend.

  Chapter Three

  Alister

  “Turn off
the effing light,” groaned Alister.

  He turned over in the unfamiliar bed to stop the sunlight seeping in from under the shade from stabbing his eyes.

  No one answered his plea, and he turned and buried his face in the pillow. This entire trip had started poorly with him falling over the leg of some lumberjack and landing ass end in his spilled coffee. It was not a promising start to a jailbreak.

  Alister huffed. If he hadn’t been so offended by the man tripping him, he might have sent him back a drink. But a butt full of sticky latte did not generate lusty feelings. But now, warm and dry in the bed, Alister admitted he found the lumberjack exuded a sexy magnetism. The tousled dark hair and piercing blue eyes helped that impression.

  The airplane landed well after midnight, and what had looked like a two-hour flight from his ticket took four. He had forgotten about the time changes. He was a seasoned traveler and dealt with time changes when he went to Japan, Brazil, or the occasional jaunt to Europe.

  Denver airport was a fricking maze, and he wandered around for an hour before he found the baggage claim to get his ride, which confused him. Alister had no luggage and carried his coffee-soaked swim trunks in a flimsy bag the flight attendant gave him. He didn’t understand why he had to go to baggage claim to get his ride. But he discovered through an airport employee that the baggage claim level was the only place the airport allowed you to meet a car.

  The ride to Sebastian’s cabin on Shadow Mountain Lake took forever. The high mountain roads had few if any streetlights. Alister’s anxiety rose during the three hours ride as the car’s headlights sliced the darkness on the road and, at curves, the looming shadows of mountain tops. At these moments, the car seemed a frail shell, unable to withstand the fatal mistake of daring to pass by them.

  When the road broke away from hugging the mountains, a black sheet, the lake where Sebastian lived, shimmered under the moonlight. It was a different world than Alister’s cloistered Hampton’s life. There were huge spaces between houses, much more than the rarified mansions of his hometown, Waterside. Alister stared up at the stars that filled a night sky undimmed by light pollution. But even that small moment of pleasure dimmed when Sebastian opened his door with an unhappy expression as his dog exploded in a barrage of barking.

  But Sebastian didn’t turn him away despite the unholy hour Alister showed up.

  “You could have called,” groused Sebastian. But he took him to a bed on the second floor, on which Alister gratefully fell.

  Now, with the rude intrusion of daylight, no one answered his plea. Alister turned and buried his face in the pillow. Paws clicked on the stairs, and a warm, wet tongue licked his feet under the covers. Startled, Alister jumped and twisted his body to land sitting up. A white German shepherd stared at him with big, brown doggie eyes and his pink tongue hanging out.

  What was the dog’s name?

  “Sarge,” called Sebastian. “Where are you, boy? Let’s go for a walk.”

  With the mention of the dog’s name, Alister remembered how Sebastian had introduced the canine as Sargeant Pupper. Alister forced himself not to roll his eyes when he heard the name. The German shepherd slapped his tail on the floor and stared at Alister as if reminding Alister there was something he had to do.

  “You’re not the boss of me,” Alister growled.

  Sargeant Pupper gave a sharp bark that hurt Alister’s ears.

  “Sarge,” called Sebastian. “Damn it.”

  Solid footsteps hit the stairs hard in rapid succession.

  “Sarge, here,” said Sebastian in a hushed voice. “Come here.”

  “I’m awake. What did you do? Set the dog to “too effing early to greet the sun” to wake me?”

  Sebastian appeared in the quaint log cabin room doorway and glanced at Alister with his brown eyes filled with concern. Sebastian walked into the en suite and ran the faucet. When he returned, he held a glass of water for Alister to take.

  “Alister, it’s 10:00 a.m. You got a good six hours sleep. Drink up. You’re at altitude now, and the air is dry.”

  “Six hours? No wonder I’m dead.”

  “You are not dead. Come on and take a walk.”

  “Exercise before coffee? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Suit yourself. I have to get moving. I have a lunch meeting in three hours.”

  “Good,” said Alister. “I’m starved.”

  “You’re not invited.”

  Alister scoffed. “Fine. I’ll just hang out under the Lonely Mountain and try to avoid whatever dragons hole up here.”

  “Sorry to dash your teenage fantasies, but there are no dragons, Stir.”

  Alister cocked an eyebrow at Sebastian’s use of his old nickname.

  “Stir?”

  “Yes, as in Sir Stir-things-up-lot. What was that, showing up at my door in the dead of night?”

  Alister looked away. “I had to get away.”

  “Hence the ditched security.”

  “Yes.”

  “Drink your water, and let’s take that walk. Sarge, go get your leash.”

  The shepherd dashed down the stairs with a clatter of nails on the wood risers and barked with excitement. Sebastian gave Alister a steely stare until he finished his water and slipped on his sandals.

  “Where the hell are your clothes?” said Sebastian.

  “On the way. I didn’t have time to pack.”

  “You always were impetuous. I always liked that about you—when I was younger.” Sebastian didn’t wait for Alister to answer to take the stairs to the first floor. Alister watched him descend. But nothing about Sebastian, despite being a handsome man, sparked Alister’s interest. They had tried to fool around once as roommates in college. But Alister felt as if he was kissing his lifelong friend, Theo, who was as close as a brother, or his sister, Livvy. He never understood his lack of attraction to a man that women and men fell all over. But that was precisely why they had been such good friends. And they still were now despite Sebastian’s sarcastic tone.

  “Do you even have your phone?”

  “Yes. But I turned it off.”

  “Your parents will flip. They are probably calling the National Guard now.”

  “They need to get over that. I’m an adult, damn it, and don’t need a babysitter. Besides, I left them a note.”

  “A note?’ said Sebastian. Skepticism colored his voice.

  “Yes,” said Alister defiantly.

  “You told them where you were going?”

  “No. I told them not to worry.”

  Sebastian snorted. “It’s your life, and you are welcome anytime. But if a security team arrives and busts down my door, you’re paying for it, and anything else they break.”

  Alister followed Sebastian down three flights of stairs to exit the cabin on the lowest level. Because it was dark when he had reached Sebastian’s home, Alister didn’t see the complete exterior. Now daylight revealed a three-level log cabin that was a small mansion in proportion. The lowest level displayed three garage doors, along with the exit door. Above it was the first-floor surrounded on three sides of the house by a wraparound porch. Alister had entered in the wee hours of the morning on the opposite side of the house that faced the windy road that brought him here.

  Sebastian’s phone rang, and he drew it out of his pocket.

  “Sebastian here. Yeah. Sure.”

  He turned and held the phone to Alister. “For you. He says his name is Daniel.”

  “Oh, my PA.” He held out his hand. “Give me.”

  Sebastian mouthed “PA?” with an incredulous expression, but he gave the device to Alister.

  Daniel spoke breathlessly with excitement. “Oh, thank God. I couldn’t reach you. Fortunately, I kept Sebastian’s number when I AirDropped your contact list on my phone.”

  “You’re incorrigible. Yes, I am fine. Thank you for asking. Where are my clothes?”

  “On the way. There was a minor hitch because, well, Alister, the security people have grilled me for a
n entire hour. Isn’t that incredible? I don’t think they believed my story.”

  “If they didn’t believe you, they would have questioned you longer than an hour.”

  “Well, Livvy vouched for me and told them how dependable I am and—”

  “Where are my clothes, Daniel? I’m standing in the mountains of Colorado, wearing a borrowed pair of sweatpants, and you know how much I hate those.”

  “Sweatpants? Well, I had to research the weather, which didn’t take that long but talking to the people at Neiman was impossible. Do you know they don’t have a concierge service in their Denver store? Shocking. I got the order into Neiman’s, and they told me they’d get it to you later today.”

  Alister closed his eyes and blew out a frustrated breath. Nothing was going his way. He would have to wear these clothes for the greater part of the day and the shirt, at least, smelled rank.

  Alister glanced ahead to see Sebastian walking up the steep trail. He quickened his steps to join him.

  “But you should have seen the look on the security people’s faces when they found your note. It was difficult to keep from laughing. Water soaked the bathroom floor, and your mother, the poor woman, was screeching alternately about the ruined floor and her missing baby. You would have thought you were the Lindbergh baby.”

  “The floor is marble. It can’t get ruined.”

  “Talk to your mother about that. Oh, and the charger for your phone is coming from the Zon. It will be there tomorrow.”

  “Fine,” huffed Alister. He didn’t plan on calling anyone, and he didn’t want them to use the phone to trace him.

  “I’ve got to go—” And the phone cut off.

  “Daniel? Daniel?”

  “It won’t do any good. The phone service is spotty here,” said Sebastian. “Not that many cell phone towers.”

  Alister handed Sebastian his phone. “Thanks.”

  “Is everything okay?” said Sebastian with concern.

  “Yes, fine,” said Alister. Hearing his mother got upset at his jailbreak discomforted Alister. He didn’t want her upset, just less involved in his life. Maybe he’d call Livvy later and check on things and let her know he was okay.