Page 3 of Five Mountain Daddies

I grin and watch his handsome expression. He has kind eyes, but he’s also hard and tough, a man used to working for aliving.

“So I guess you’re home for summervacation?”

I nod. “Just briefly. I’m working at that ATV tour place, saving up some money before Ileave.”

“Where to?” heasks.

“New York. I got a paid internship that starts inSeptember.”

“Good for you,” he says, smiling. “Moving to the big fucking city. Guess it’s a lot different than thistown.”

“You’re not kidding,” Isay.

“Not a fan ofLeadwood?”

I shake my head. “It’s not really this town specifically that I don’t like… it’s just small towns ingeneral.”

“Sure, I get that,” he says softly. “I lived in Paris for a couple years, Berlin before that. LA when I was about your age.” He shrugs a little. “Those were goodtimes.”

“Seriously?” I ask. “Why are you herenow?”

“It’s funny,” he says softly. “You can leave the place you were born, but it never leavesyou.”

“Deep,” I say, rolling myeyes.

He laughs a little. “Okay, fine. I came back to start a business with a fewfriends.”

“What do you guys do?” Iask.

“We own a steel warehouse and fabrication facility. It’s called BurnedSteel.”

“Sounds very manly,” Isay.

He grins at me. “It is. I mean, it used to be. We just own it now, we don’t actually do the fabricationanymore.”

I nod a little bit. I’m not surprised about that. He looks like the kind of guy that could build something out ofsteel.

But the fact that he lived in so many different places… it’s interesting. It’s an interesting contradiction. This guy has been all over the world, even lived in two different countries, and yet here he is, back in Leadwood. He’s handsome and seems like the kind of man that could have any woman he wants, but I don’t see a wedding ring on hisfinger.

I don’t know why I’m even looking for a ring, though. I’m not here to find a guy, especially not one that’s twenty years older than me. This guy is so attractive, he’d never be interested in someone likeme.

And yet, he’s sitting here, laughing at my jokes, and I’m pretty sure he’s flirting withme.

“Must be nice, sitting around, collecting all theprofit.”

He grins again. “Yeah, it’s nice. Sometimes. I miss working with my hands, though.” He cocks his head at me. “What are you doing at this ATVplace?”

“Just running the front desk,” Isay.

“Not running the tours? You seem like the kind of girl that likes to getdirty.”

I can’t help but note the double entendre in his comment. “Maybe I do,” I say, “but I’m stuck behind a deskanyway.”

“Well, if you ever want to get dirty, come find me,” he says. “I’ll give you ajob.”

I laugh a little. “I don’t know anything about fabricatingsteel.”

He shrugs a little, watching me. “I could put you to work anyway,” hesays.

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