Something About a Mountain Man Read online

  He’d been hesitant to give her the intel, but if her navigation skills were good, her persuasion skills were excellent. Plus, it helped that Roshannon had a toddler and wanted some family photos taken.

  She let her camera rest against her chest as she got her bearings of east from northeast and set off toward the spot Roshannon had told her Stone was living. There was one narrow path that seemed to be used for horses, and she stuck to it. But in spots where it had washed away, she had to use her instincts and some guesswork.

  The pines were thicker around the east side of the ridge, and she had to pick her way slowly. She took her time, trying not to twist an ankle or something worse. And she snapped photos.

  Of a mountain bluebird and another gray one that she couldn’t put name to. They flitted from branch to branch, seeming to follow her, chattering all the way. A fog had rolled in this morning and had delayed her coming up the mountain the minute she woke up. The thick white patches still clung to the tree line and added ambience to her photos.

  She wanted to capture the very air—how it smelled, felt in her lungs.

  Livvy snapped more photos and tried to keep her mind off meeting Stone. What was she going to say to him? She’d thought about that a lot since making the decision to come here. But she always came up blank.

  What was there to say? Hey, Stone, thanks for saving my life back there, good to see you, have a great life?

  She’d talked and joked with all the Marines, but she’d considered Stone a friend. Even though he was a man of few words, she’d always felt him near her, watching out for her.

  Though he hadn’t held back his opinions on her being there in the first place. He’d flat out told her she had no business being in that dangerous situation, and in the end, he’d been right.

  A crack of a twig had her turning her head slowly. She’d been warned of bears and carried a canister of bear spray as well as a Ruger, one on each hip like a gunslinger.

  A dusty brown coat came into view through the deep evergreen of the pines and Livvy moved her camera slowly into position to get a photo of the deer. Head upraised in alert, ears forward, listening.

  She didn’t realize a smile had taken over her face until the deer moved away. Livvy continued on, taking everything in.

  She had to admit, it was a beautiful place to live. So different from what they’d known in Afghanistan with the endless sand, beiges and browns. Here, it was just budding with spring, though it was late in the year compared to lower regions. The snow was off the mountainside, and the rush of water could be heard in any direction she turned.

  How must Stone feel to live here on his own? She had to wonder at his state of mind.

  Her stomach knotted. Her biggest fear was finding him beyond reach—out of his mind with post-traumatic stress disorder and too distant for her to make real contact with him.

  Realistically, she knew their relationship hadn’t been all that close. Sure, there had been an almost-kiss, but nothing had happened in the end.

  He’d drawn away before she could press her lips to those hard, unsmiling ones of his that she’d been wanting to taste for a long time.

  Then the next day, after the explosion, he’d been gone and she was off to the nearest military hospital to have the shrapnel removed from her neck, followed by what seemed like hundreds of stitches.

  When she’d spoken to Roshannon, she’d gotten the nerve to ask if Stone had lost his leg as had been rumored. A beat of silence had made her heart beat wildly, but he’d said no.

  Well, she just had to find the man and see for herself how rough a shape he was in.

  She made the rest of the hike faster without stopping to take pictures. As she peered through the pines into a small clearing, the faint cluck of chickens reached her.

  She stepped out and looked around at what Stone had built for himself. A few small buildings and some fencing. A camp yard with a stool and a fire that was still burning low.

  Oh my God. He’s here.

  Roshannon had warned her that he went out pretty often to hunt and check traps. She was glad she wouldn’t have to wait for him. After all, a combat veteran coming in from hunting to find a stranger sitting at his campfire wouldn’t feel all that friendly. And she didn’t know Stone’s current state of mind.

  She let out the breath she’d been holding and walked around the side of a building. An animal grunted, and she saw the big black body of a pig. Then more. It seemed the biggest building wasn’t Stone’s cabin but a pig barn.

  The animals started grunting like crazy when they saw her, probably thinking it was feeding time. Without thought, she raised her camera and had a few closeups of dirt-flecked snouts and piggy eyes eagerly looking for food.

  A bleat had her searching for the source only to discover a goat standing on top of what looked like a doghouse with a sloping roof. Inside, another goat peered out of the hay bed it lay on.

  So, Stone was a real homesteader. Somehow it pleased her knowing he wasn’t up here alone. The animals weren’t great company, but they were something to care for. A man who was deep in the throes of depression wouldn’t be able to keep his animals so well-cared for, right?

  She pressed her long braid over her shoulder and circled the animal pens to find the chicken coop. A rooster strutted along the fence.

  Getting into a crouch, Livvy snapped a few pics and then stood and turned her camera on the cabin itself.

  Man, it was rough, but she could envision Stone here. The place was built like a tank with a door that would guard a fortress, crisscrossed with thick planks of wood. Was he trying to keep things out or himself in?

  She got her lens into focus and got a few different angles on shots, including a great one with a bit of the dirt ground leading up to the house bearing one big size-twelve boot print.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” The voice was unlike anything she’d heard, and she shot to her feet, whirling in the same movement.

  Holy shit.

  The man standing before her wasn’t Stone. At least not the Stone she knew. This guy was just as big and broad, with biceps like big guns on top of a tank. But his appearance was shocking.

  She couldn’t get past the tangled, long brown hair or the thick nest of his beard hanging in the center of his chest to look for his past injuries.

  “Stone?”

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Asking the second time around still wasn’t unlocking her mind or her tongue. Was she really looking at the man she’d known a year ago?

  His eyes weren’t even the same. Darker than the old hazel she remembered. With a hard glint like steel or granite that could have been mined from this very mountain.

  And they felt cold.

  She gaped at him. Her hands moved on their own, and she raised her camera.

  He made a slicing motion as if to bat it out of her grasp. “If you come near me with that thing, I’ll smash it.”

  Dear God, his voice. Had it been wrecked by the hit they’d both taken? She’d suffered the injury to her neck, but he must have had more extensive injuries than she’d learned of.

  His gaze flashed to her neck and the scarf tied around it and then traveled over her body right to her sturdy walking boots.

  She stood rooted under his stare, unable to move or breathe. But she could direct her eyes and did so, roaming down to his boots and back up. Jeans, the thighs dirty from him wiping his hands there. A smear of blood across the denim that pulled so perfectly across those thick muscles.

  Her chest burned from lack of oxygen and she drew a shaky breath.

  As she let her gaze trace back over his muscled chest in a plaid cotton shirt to that beard and finally his face… She had no words.

  This was a mountain man, and far from what she’d envisioned she’d find in Stone. He looked like a wild thing just emerged from a cave ready to snap her head off.

  Well, he’d already threatened to smash her precious camera. Though she did carry a spare in the pack on her b
ack, along with a few changes of clothes she hoped would get her through a short stay here with Stone while she figured out how to thank him for what he’d done for her.

  She opened her mouth. Closed it.

  “Woman, you never did have sense. You traveled here on your own?” He glanced around and then his gaze crash-landed on her again. A heavy warmth moved through her as she recognized that look he wore. Yeah, this was Stone. The man who’d held back from kissing her and walked away looking so damn tormented she’d wanted to beg for him to come back.

  His eyes lost some of that cold glare and burned with something she remembered.

  “My God, Stone.”

  He jerked at her tone. His fingers convulsed at his sides, and she realized one hand looked oddly-shaped. Like a pincer.

  She couldn’t have prepared herself for this and any words she might have rehearsed couldn’t be said now.

  “Here I thought I was the one who’d forgotten how to talk. What do you have to say for yourself, woman?”

  * * * * *

  Jesus, this female was crazier than he’d ever guessed. What kind of woman put herself in the middle of a war, got herself blown up and then hiked up a mountain in springtime when the brown bears were emerging from their dens, hungry?

  And how the hell had she tracked him down?

  There was only one answer to that—Roshannon. Next time Ryan saw the man, he was going to kick his ass.

  Here she was standing before him, taking more unnecessary risks with her life.

  And fuck, was she beautiful. Heart-stopping, breath-stealing, ball-clenching gorgeous. Her bright red hair drawn in a braid over her shoulder thick enough for a man to grip onto and tilt her head so he could—

  He cut off that train of thought that was going nowhere.

  “You don’t understand what I’m saying, do you?”

  That had her placing hands on hips in that sassy way he remembered. He wanted to touch her hips. And be her hips.

  “Don’t speak to me like I’m a child, Stone. I’m quite capable of navigating through life on my own. I just came from the Argentinean jungle and—”

  “What the hell were you doing there?”

  “There’s a huge interest in a conspiracy theory that Hitler fled to Argentina after his supposed faked suicide. And as a side job, I was working with some animal activists about an extinct—”

  He waved a hand through the air to cut her off again. “You’re thinner.”

  She blinked.

  “Well, you’re hairier.”

  He stared at her without blinking. She had no damn clue about the beast she’d awakened inside him. For a year he’d been working to shove down his baser instincts to fight and protect. His time as a Marine had cost him too much, the price too dear. And here stood Livvy on his homestead, raising all those old emotions.

  As clearly as the moment it had happened, he recalled throwing her to the ground and plastering his body over hers to protect her. How soft she’d felt and perfect in his arms that split second before someone tried to blow them both off the face of the earth.

  A world without this woman was not one he wanted to live in.

  He couldn’t live with her so close either.

  She shook her head in a disgusted way, sending her braid sliding back and forth over one round breast. The curve too ripe for any man’s sanity. He’d nearly ripped off a head or two back in Afghanistan when guys would get too mouthy and mention Livvy’s finer points—and she had a hell of a lot of them.

  He compressed his lips and stared at her.

  “If you think you’re going to glare me off this mountain, you’re wrong, Ryan Stone.”

  His heart gave a hard yank at her use of his first name. He’d heard it so little since joining the Marines after high school, and Livvy was the only one to use it. When she’d cupped his jaw and gone on tiptoe and asked him to kiss her, she’d used his name.

  Fuck.

  “Oh, you’re going down the mountain, all right. Today.” His voice cracked. The pup had gone missing a week ago and he hadn’t uttered a word since.

  She raised her chin a notch in that insanely irritating way she had of being stubborn. Saying ‘stay back, Livvy, don’t come into the gunfire’ seemed to be a challenge to her.

  “I’m not going.”

  “Well, you’re not taking pictures of a veteran of war,” he nearly bellowed, feeling his throat bulge with the effort.

  She recoiled, and his heart lurched in remorse. She blinked rapidly. “I’m not here to photograph you, Stone.”

  “Then why?”

  Dammit, she was beautiful and soft, and his bed was a few steps through the door of his cabin behind her. He could have what had been tormenting his dreams this entire past year.

  No, he wasn’t that kind of animal, to take what he wanted and then discard her. Not Livvy.

  He pushed out a breath through his nose as he waited for her answer.

  The mountain breeze kept toying with a tendril of her hair, and she brushed it off her high cheekbone. “I’m here to see you.”

  “Bad idea.”

  She chewed her lip. “Why?”

  “You can see this is no place for a woman like you.”

  Her brow creased. “Like me? This is like a spa vacation compared to what we had in Afghanistan at times.”

  He cut her off again. No way was he talking about the war. Not with her or anybody else.

  “Did you just come from a spa vacation? Is that why you lost weight? One of those detox treatments or something?”

  She shook her head. “You’ve lost your mind more than I imagined, Stone. I just got out of the hospital after getting hit by a parasite in Argentina. I might have lost a pound or two, but I could have used it in a few spots anyway. So what’s your excuse in being so hairy? Don’t mountain men have sharp knives to shave?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. Damn her. She’d been ill? He skated his gaze up and down her body, taking note of all the spots she’d mentioned could have afforded the weight loss but he couldn’t see them. She’d always been striking and desirable and—

  He blanked his mind to that mental tirade and tried to figure out what to do with her. He couldn’t have a woman hanging around. It was hard enough to scavenge enough food for his big frame to use for fuel let alone provide for her. And that pack on her back looked light and lacking in rations.

  The insufferable woman had packed up here with no more than a few items of clothing and an energy bar, if he knew her. And he did. Enough to know that she was always taking stupid risks.

  “Well? Nothing to say for your appearance?” She did that adorable head tilt that made him want to pick her up and cuddle her like a puppy.

  His sigh came out as a growl. “I have no need to shave.”

  “How about brushing your hair?”

  He walked past her to the pile of wood he’d split yesterday and dropped two logs on the dying fire. Sparks flew up, but it wasn’t the only place sparking. His libido was on fire. And here he’d hoped he was immune after a year without female contact.

  “If you came here to insult me, you’ve done it. You can leave now.”

  His back was to her, so he couldn’t see her face, but her silence made him turn. And when he did, her hand shot out of nowhere. The slap she delivered to his cheek stung like a bitch and instantly pissed him off.

  “You don’t want to mess with me that way, Livvy.” He stepped up to her, using his size to make her back down from the insane idea of sticking around. Why was she even here? What could possibly happen between them? He couldn’t get attached then and definitely not now.

  He tapped his remaining fingers of his right hand against his hollowed out thigh muscle to keep from grabbing her and pinning her to the nearest flat surface.

  Her eyes went soft on him. That warm liquid blue that reminded him of the Mediterranean Sea, where he’d spent some time between tours. She stared up at him.

  “Ryan, what happened to you?”


  “Too much to fill you in during the short time you’ll be here.” He checked his wrist like he was checking a watch for the time, but he didn’t wear a watch. Time didn’t matter up here. He lived by his own clock. “It’s about time for you to start walking down that mountain.”

  The idea of her going off alone, getting lost or mauled by a bear… His bowels cramped. Shit, he was going to have to take her down, wasn’t he?

  That meant hours alone with her.

  He steeled himself. “I’ll get my horse.”

  “You seem to be holding a one-sided conversation. I know you’ve been alone up here, but I am an active participant in this conversation, and you haven’t let me speak before making a decision that I’m leaving.”

  He stared at her all-too-kissable lips. Plump, peachy, with a slight gloss. Probably that damn lip balm she was always putting on against the harsh Afghanistan elements.

  “And stop glaring at me. You’re not scaring me off with your Grizzly Adams act.”

  “You can’t stay here. I have to hunt.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  He was shaking his head before she completed the sentence. “You can’t. It’s too dangerous and I can’t look out for you when I’m trying to track a deer.” He reached up and shoved his fingers through his hair. She was right—it was knotted. And he probably smelled. He wasn’t expecting company.

  But she wasn’t moving away, so he couldn’t smell that bad.

  Was he seriously thinking about his hygiene when he had much more pressing matters such as how to get rid of the woman?

  She walked over to the stool he’d made and plopped onto it. “If you have to hunt, I’ll wait.”

  He closed his eyes to keep from rolling them. Which only showed that he hadn’t lost all manners in his year on the mountain. He opened his eyes again.

  After five full heartbeats of staring at her and admiring the curve of her thighs and breasts, he spun away. “Fine.” He grabbed his rifle and stomped away a few yards before turning back. “Don’t let the fire go out.”