Page 5 of Relentless Mountain Man

“They paid for my college with the understanding I’d move back home and work in the family business after I got my degree.”

“What business is that?” I asked.

“Automotive,” she said. “My dad owns a group of very successful car dealerships. The problem is, he never really cleared it with me. He definitely said from a young age that hewanted me to work for him someday, but when it came time for college, he never mentioned it again. But living on my own… I guess I like my independence. So when the college career center showed me the opportunity in Nashville, I jumped at it.”

“Can you do what you do in a small town like this one?” I asked.

She laughed, and I loved the way it made her eyes light up. “I’m in property management, so yeah, this town is perfect for that. I’ve already started working next door on making the place more appealing. But he needs to get some good pictures before he puts it on vacation rental sites.”

“I can help with that,” I said. “I did some photography in my military days, but I’m sure the guy has someone.”

She was eyeing me now like she was seeing me for the first time. “You’ve done photography?”

“Not anything major. I was the guy they called on to take pictures on base. Ceremonies and group shots of our unit, that sort of thing. So yeah, I guess you probably want someone who has a little more training.”

“I want to see.”

Now I was staring at her. “See what?”

“Your photography. Do you have pictures around here?”

“They’re on my laptop.”

“Go get it.”

She was interested. More than interested. She wanted me to get up and go get my laptop. This was a first. Even when I went back home after returning from overseas, relatives didn’t care all that much about my pictures.

But as I got up and headed to my bedroom, I admitted something to myself. I was in trouble. All the work I’d done to protect my heart had been undone in just a short twenty-four-hour period.

There was no way I could resist her now. And if I wasn’t careful, I’d end up with a broken heart…and nothing but memories to show for our time together.

3

RACHEL

Looking at pictures was a great excuse to sit closer to Quinn. I’d thought about that when I asked him to go get his laptop. Asked? More like ordered, but he’d done it.

The truth was, though, that I really wanted to see his pictures. I wanted to know everything about him. Joely had given me the scoop on his name and that he was single, but there was so much more to learn. The fact that he’d spent time on base, and even gone through at least one deployment, fascinated me.

This guy had lived. He’d traveled, met people, experienced things… That was what I wanted.

Quinn settled in next to me on the sofa and I leaned closer. I made a point of keeping a little space between us, though. I didn’t want him to think I was pushing myself on him. Did guys think like that? I really didn’t know.

“What other pictures do you have on here?” I asked a full twenty minutes later when he started to close the laptop.

Yeah, I had an ulterior motive for that too. If he closed the laptop, he’d move away from me and we’d be separated by a couch cushion again. I didn’t want to be separated.

He frowned but continued looking at the laptop screen. Then he pulled it back to the center of his lap and tapped around on the trackpad.

Within a few minutes, he’d opened a folder and began pulling up random pictures. He took me through a few photos of him as a kid—plump and happy as he opened presents on Christmas, hugged his dog, and posed with some friends on a baseball field.

Then he pulled up his prom pictures. His arms were around a very beautiful girl—the type of girl I envied in high school. Long, blonde hair that I was guessing always looked perfect. Size-two body. Small but perky chest that would make it easy to wear all the stylish junior clothing I could never fit into because of my overly abundant curves.

“Was that your girlfriend?” I asked.

He laughed. “No. I mean, I guess you could say we went on one date if prom night counts as a date, but she wasn’t my type.”

“What’s your type?”

---