Page 3 of Destined for the Mountain Man

Three people told me smiling would make me prettier.

I still live with my parents at twenty-four.

When I shut my bedroom door and lock it, I try to count the positives. I got three customer compliments, I’m saving plenty of money so I should be able to make a big change soon (like move out), and I have nearly two weeks of PTO saved up, just waiting to be used. Plus, my dad has a business gala tonight, so I’m on my own until around nine.

That’s enough to come out even, if not ahead of the negatives which is all I can hope for, on a daily basis. With that in mind, I braid my hair and flop into bed.

I sigh as I settle into my mattress and hum softly. I scroll through my phone, checking out soap making, people making stained glass windows, and other crafts until an email notifies me I have a match on Mountain Mates.

I slowly walk to my computer and open the Mountain Mates site, where a new profile appears on the screen. I’ve been liked by about ten men, but only one has messaged me.

One who’s ... gorgeous. Sure, he’s rugged and twelve years older, but those eyes. Such a deep forest green, so intense and watchful with this protective serious edge that makes my whole body feel hot.

Through a screen! It’s impossible, but it’s real. Just like that little bit of silver tickling his scalp, the fine lines around his eyes that say he knows how to smile, even if he’s not in his photo. He looks like the kind of man who belongs to the mountains and he’s open about the fact that he’s a vet, which means there must be some military traits, but it also means he’s driven.

I’m turned on by a picture. That’s the reality here. I’m eager to taste his lips and be the reason he smiles and even though I don’texactlyknow what happens when it comes to sex, I have a feeling that this man specifically could do a whole lot more than make me smile. I bet he’d make me come even faster than my toys and fingers do.

Stowing those thoughts away, I click on the message and am surprised by how simple it is, just like I’m surprised that his full name is there, no username, no bull.

Grant Walker: What interests you more, making soap or becoming a bee keeper?

I blink at the message. It’s so direct, so immediately based on my profile and not a pick up line. I nibble my bottom lip and slowly type a message back. He is online.

Charlotte Aldridge: I’m actually allergic to bees, but I think they’re amazing. If I could do it safely, I’d love to start some hives. Then I could make soap, honey, and support a garden naturally.

Grant Walker: Some people consider it a full time job.

Charlotte Aldridge: Better to dive into a full time job that’s passion-based rather than slumping by and watching life pass without end.

Grant: That’s a good way to look at it. Why is a city girl on this website?

Charlotte: I think it’s a good way to escape the city.

I hesitate, stare at the screen, then give a more honest answer.

Charlotte: In all honesty, the city feels more and more like a bear trap. I feel like I’m being forced to do everything other people want me to do instead of doing what I want. At this point, I don’t even KNOW what I want.

Grant: The opposite of what most people see in a city. I've heard it's full of endless opportunities.

Charlotte: Maybe people see what they want to see, but I prefer to see the reality. And right now, with my living situation, the only option for me is to get out of here.

Grant: Do you care about love?

Charlotte: I think everyone deserves it. Whether people choose to wait for it, to chase it, to take the leap and grab it is up to them. I don’t know everyone’s position.

Grant: Well said. Is that what you’re looking for here? Love?

Charlotte: Love is the ideal, but options are good. I like talking to people without my parents’ interference or any presumption. I like clarity.

Grant: Makes things much easier.

And from there, we’re lost in conversation. He tells me about sustainable hunting and fishing, we talk about benefits of the city, what we want in life. Every question gets a full answer and Grant never gets sexual with me. Every time his picture appears, I feel myself drawn a little more to the image on the screen.

I shudder and glance at the time when the door downstairs shuts. I curse and turn off all my lights before curling up with a blanket and starting a movie in another browser. I don’t want my parents to know about Grant. I don’t want them to look him up, find him, track him down, or delete my profile.

Charlotte: I want to give you my phonenumber just in case. You don’t have to use it, just if you don’t hear from me for a day, use that.

Grant: Sounding a little paranoid over there.

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