Page 6 of Trapped with the Mountain Man

Chapter 4

Hunter

Rescue. Release. Repeat.

This scene plays out likeGroundhog Dayever since that stupid book came out. Usually, there’s no hypothermia involved though.

And usually, the women aren’t as good-looking as Abby.

I throw on a pot of coffee to warm myself up. A few minutes later, the woman steps out of the bathroom. She’s pressing her palms to the bottom hem of the shirt, smoothing it down over her thighs.

“Sugar?” I ask as I pour a second cup of coffee. If she’s upright and walking around, she’s probably well enough to have some caffeine.

“No thanks, black is good,” Abby says as she walks across the room wearing only my t-shirt. Her wet hair sticks to the thin shirt, drawing her nipples to sharp peaks. No panties. Soft thighs I want to dig my fingers into.

Ok, so maybe this isn’tGroundhog Day.

I’ve never given any of the other lost women so much as a second glance, but it’s hard not to stare at this one.

She’s composed. Usually the women I find out on the trail clutching that damn book are an emotional mess. Most of them have been out there for a day or two and have inexplicably strayed off course from the very well-marked trail. Sometimes it’s one woman, but usually, it’s a group of them – those are the worst. They talk a lot, spilling their guts about their pathetic attempt at self-realization and all the obstacles they faced during their single day in the wilderness. A lot of them cry. I drive them straight back to town – or better yet, I get one of the summer interns to come out here and pick them up.

Abby walks across the room and collects the cup of coffee from the counter.

“Thisiscoffee, right?” she asks with a skeptical glare before pressing her full lips into a circle as she blows the ribbons of steam away softly. I stare because it’s the sexiest thing that’s happened in this cabin in a long while. Thankfully, my jeans are roomy. She glances down at them, but her attention is on my right hip where my gun is holstered.

“Thanks for rescuing me,” she finally says with an odd flair of annoyance in her tone, “I guess I forgot to say that earlier.”

“It’s my job.”

“How’d you find me?”

“Another hiker called the district office this morning; said a woman was stuck in one of the shelters who might need help.”

Her cheeks turn a pale shade of pink as she takes another sip of coffee.

“So, where exactly are we?” she asks.

“Gatlinburg’s about an hour drive from here when the roads are clear.”

Abby laughs abruptly. It’s more of a snort, actually. “It would have taken me all day to hike to Newfound Gap and catch the shuttle to Gatlinburg for the night. You’re telling me it’s only an hour’s drive from the last shelter?”

“Something like that,” I shrug.

Her frustrated groan is strangely cute. The disappointment on her face is unmistakable. A pang of guilt runs through my chest, but I quickly dismiss it. This isn’t exactly ideal for me either. I value my privacy and solitude out here. That’s why I signed up for this gig. Having a parade of delusional women pass through here on their road to self-discovery or whatever wasn’t supposed to be part of the job.

“So we’re stuck…here? In this ranger station,” she makes air quotes, “that you live in for some reason.”

“Well, I’m the LEO for the area so I get to live in this cabin to look after everything that needs looking after…like all the women flocking to this place because of that stupid book. But yeah, we’re stuck here for now.”

Her mouth gapes as if she’s about to object, but she swallows her words instead.

That’s a first. That book is gospel to most of the women I end up rescuing out there. Even after their disastrous attempts to recreate it, they still can’t shut up about it. I’ll be thrilled when it falls off the bestseller list. At first, I didn’t mind a whiff of estrogen passing through here. A reminder of all the soft curves and pleasant scents that make up the fairer sex. Unfortunately, most of these women have proven to be annoying as shit and doused in bug spray. This one seems different, but that doesn’t mean I’m thrilled to share my space with her. The weather report says the storm could last three more days, which is a lot of time to pass in these close quarters.

“What’s an LEO?” she eventually asks.

“Law enforcement officer.”

She glances down at my gun again and frowns.

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