Page 26 of The Mountain Man's Virgin
She was huddled up on the couch with a quilt wrapped around her, an extra pair of my wool socks on her feet.”
“I would love that Mick, but I really think that I should get back to real life as soon as possible.”
“Okay. I understand. Hey, I have one question for you though. How do you fit in time with your man, when you have literally no free time?”
“We don’t actually spend that much time together. He likes the fact that I have my own life and he has his.”
“But you two, you have a good relationship, right?”
“Yes, I think that we do.”
That was weird. “Think that you do?”
“Well, I don’t really have much to compare it to. Because I’ve been so busy, I’ve never really had time for a serious relationship.”
“Ah, so you’ve left a sea of broken-hearted men in your wake.” Maybe we had more in common than we thought.
“I haven’t had a boyfriend, or a casual relationship, or a one-night stand.” She was growing defensive. I know that women always try to downplay their past, but I got the feeling that I had touched on a sore spot with her.
“Well, as long as you’re happy,” I said. It was a cop-out way to end the conversation even though I wanted to keep pressing her. How could she be so happy with someone and kiss me the way that she did?
“I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible, Mick.”
I knew that she was right. I could try to get her to linger here longer, try to keep the feminine of her in my masculine space, but it was pointless. She was engaged to another man, and she would be out of my life in a matter of hours.
It dawned on me like a ton of bricks. I knew where I had heard of the AFC before. I looked at Lucy out of the corner of my eye, her chestnut hair falling softly on her shoulders as she laced up her boots. She didn’t say it in so many words, but if I was right about the AFC, it meant that she had something sexually unique to offer. If I had to guess, I would say that Lawrence was checking the virgin off his list.
I had to stifle a laugh at the irony of the situation in front of me.Of all the women in the world to be trapped in a cabin with, me, a fucking sex addict, had been holed up in a blizzard with a virgin. A fucking virgin.
“What’s up?” Lucy said, looking up at me.
“Ah, it’s just…” I hesitated. I could be wrong. Lawrence could be with Lucy because she is a damn fine woman, but something inside told me that this beautiful human being was being used as part of a cruel game. But, before I said something to Lucy, I needed to be absolutely sure.
Chapter 19 – Lucy
I saw the look on his face when he put two and two together. I didn’t have to say it in so many words, but he knew. He knew that I was a virgin.
Mick buckled the straps of an avalanche beacon over my shirt and quickly explained how to use it. I zipped up my coat and shoved my hands into the two-mitten system he had invented for me. “I’m ready Mick,” I said holding my mittened hand out for the snowmobile helmet.
He handed the matte black helmet to me, but it slipped through my mitts before I had time to grasp it. His hand darted out and caught it before it could hit the floor. The man had some serious cat-like reflexes.
“Let me get that for you,” he said and pushed the tight-fitting helmet onto my head. I lifted the visor and tried to brush my hair from in front of my face.
He sighed, “People usually put their gloves on after their helmet.”
“Well, back in Beacon Hill, we put our gloves on before our snowmobile helmets.”
“Touché,” he said. He leaned forward and swept the stray strands from in front of my face and tucked them into the edges of the helmet. “Better?”
“Much. Thank you.”
“Beacon Hill, huh?” he said while sliding his own helmet over his face, his piercing blue eyes staring at me from the recess of the helmet. “Parts of it were really sketchy back in the day, weren’t they?”
“Yeah, as a hermit, you’ve probably never been there,” I said. I had to change the conversation. As a rule, I never tell anyone where I grew up. I would love to say it’s not because I’m embarrassed, but I am. I came from nothing, and after our parents died, my sister and I had bounced around through the system, foster home to foster home.
“Chopper, you stay,” Mick said, his voice muffled through his helmet. He pointed to Chopper’s plaid wicker bed by the fire. Chopper looked down at the floor, sad that he wasn’t joining us on our next adventure, then turned obediently and flopped down onto his bed.
Mick fired up the snowmobile and it growled to life, its exhaust swirling in the sunlight. I noticed that the toboggan wasn’t attached and wondered how both of us were going to fit on the little snowmobile seat. Mick left the snowmobile idling and walked toward his shed, he motioned for me to follow. I stepped into his knee-deep tracks and gasped when I realized what was about to happen.
