Loving the Mountain Man (Sample)

Part 1

Christa

I'd thought my boss peeing off the deck at our annual Christmas party was the worst thing that would happen that day.

Boy, was I wrong.

Something had felt off the moment I'd arrived at Jonathan's massive cabin in the middle of nowhere. I was all nervous, gussied up for my first work event, hoping to make an impression. After a harrowing ten minutes spent navigating his steep, twisty drive, my wipers working double time to clear what I hoped was just a light rain, I'd pulled up and stared at the two the lone car parked in front of the house.

Where was everyone?

I spent the next three minutes listing all the reasons I shouldn't turn around and drive home, change out of this suffocating dress, put on my reindeer pajamas, and watch Elf for the millionth time. I'd make hot cocoa, stir it with a candy cane, and counter all that sugar with super salty popcorn.

I sighed. I'd spent hours shopping for the right dress and shoes for this shindig. Gran would kill me if I ran home with my tail between my legs.

Okay. So, fine, I'd come all the way out here. I'd go in, have one drink and a couple mini-quiches, and chat with my colleagues about... I shut my eyes tightly. Weather. Sports. Work. Hobbies.

I could do this.

I stepped out of the car into—dear God—icy cold, at least ten degrees cooler than down in the valley. Cursing myself for grabbing my dressy coat, instead of the warm one, I teetered up the pea gravel walkway to the massive wood and stone house, and rang the doorbell.

I'd just about given up when my boss, Jonathan, answered the door.

"Well, if it isn't the new girl." He stumbled, turned it into a dance, and reached for my coat. "Hey, New Girl. Let's get this off you."

"Oh. Oh, hi. Thank you." I shuffled back, avoiding his hands, and shoved the bottle of wine I'd brought at him. "This is for you. Where can I..."

"Bring it in, New Girl!" He grabbed the wine and coat and led the way into a big, open room, where he proceeded to serve me a bourbon (I asked for wine), and invited me to sit.

We were alone—him, me, and a massive, reflective wall of windows at the opposite end of the sparsely modern space. And he was drunk.

I looked around, nervous. "So, where is everyone?"

"Yeah, not sure."

Time to get out of here.

I set down my drink and shuffled toward the door. "Look, I should go. This is—"

"Nah, nah. Come here, New Girl." He moved toward the windows. "Let me show you something."

By then, my fight-or-flight instincts were screaming at me to get out of there, while my keep-the-job-it-took-me-months-to-find instincts kept me frozen.

Should have listened to the first voice and run.

"You've gotta see this view."

"When are the others getting here, again?" I took a final, mad look around before he grabbed my arm and hauled me toward the French doors, which led out onto a huge deck. It was freezing.

"Party's cancelled. Didn't I tell you?" He threw out an arm and spun toward the big, black expanse beyond the circle of light pouring from inside. "Check out my incredible view while I..."

As soon as I recognized the sound of his fly unzipping, my awkward misgivings became outright fear.

Jonathan groaned. "Shit, man!" he said, as if I were his frat boy peanut gallery. "Too cold to piss out here."