Page 5 of Mountain Man's Mail Order Challenge
Immediately, I regretted the words. Hot as balls was not something you said to a lady.
But I should’ve known better. Paget wasn’t some naive little flower. Even though she said she was only twenty-three, she was more cultured than most thirty-somethings I knew. Well, the ones who hadn’t served in the Special Forces anyway. Most of the guys I knew had.
I dropped the tailgate, and she climbed up first, settling cross-legged on the edge like she did this every day. I joined her, legs stretched out, the brown paper sack between us.
She handed me a hot dog wrapped in foil. “Crinkle-cut fries too,” she said with a grin. “They had three kinds, but crinkle’s the best.”
I took the food without a word, but my mouth twitched at the corners. She wasn’t wrong.
“Hope you don’t mind sharing ketchup,” she added, setting a small plastic cup of the condiment between us and removing the lid. She took a bite of her hot dog, then leaned back on one hand, chewing thoughtfully while she looked out at the gas station lot like it was a scenic overlook. “This isn’t exactly what I pictured when I imagined my first real day living in the mountains.”
“No?” I asked, taking a bite.
“Nope. I pictured sweeping views. Towering trees. Maybe a bear sighting. Not brake pads and mulch.”
“Welcome to reality.”
“I like reality.” She nudged me with her knee. “Especially when it comes with hot dogs.”
We ate for a minute in silence. Just the occasional rustle of foil, the soft crunch of fries.
Finally, she asked, “Have you ever been kayaking on Wildwood Lake?”
“Once or twice.”
“There’s a moonlight paddle tour coming up. I saw the flyer in town. It’s supposed to be gorgeous.”
“Let me guess. You already signed up.”
“Obviously.”
I shook my head, amused despite myself.
“There’s also a waterfall rappel course next weekend,” she said. “And I want to hike to the top of the mountain at sunrise. There’s this tiny little mountain market that only sells homemade jam and goat cheese?—”
I turned my head slowly to look at her.
She caught the expression and laughed. “Too much?”
“You planning to do all that in one weekend?”
“No.” She dragged out the word. “Some of it’s for next week. And the week after.”
I frowned. “I thought the deal was you’d leave tomorrow.”
She paused, then looked down at the fries between us. “I thought so too. But I don’t want to. Not yet.”
The words lodged in my chest. I should’ve told her no. Should’ve reminded her this wasn’t some vacation. That she couldn’t just bounce into someone’s life with a duffel bag and a smile and expect to stay.
But the truth was, I didn’t want her to leave either.
I looked out at the horizon, blinking against the glare. The funny thing was, none of the stuff she listed had ever interested me before. Kayaking, rappelling, cheese made from goats I’d probably have to meet first. It all sounded like noise.
But hearing her talk about it—with that breathless excitement, that sparkle in her voice—it didn’t sound so bad. In fact, it sounded kind of good. And I had to wonder, was that because the activities had suddenly gotten more appealing, or because she’d be the one doing them with me?
I didn’t know the answer. But I knew one thing for damn sure. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Not yet.
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