Page 1 of Wild for the Mountain Man
Chapter 1
Lilah
The mountains look like they’ve been dipped in honey. Gold aspens glisten on the slopes as my little SUV winds up the last curve toward Cady Springs, Colorado. I have the windows cracked just enough to let in air that smells like woodsmoke and forest.
I left before dawn, chasing the line where night turns to watercolor. Now, the whole world feels hand-painted. A beautiful way to arrive at my final destination … home.
I tell myself I’m here for the project … and I am. It’s a gallery series I’ve been hired to capture. “Autumn in the High Country.” Landscapes. Wildlife. I’ve planned the schedule and charged batteries. I am, in every way that matters, ready.
Except for the one thing constant on my mind: Wade Lawson. If I’m honest with myself, there’s this deep anticipation inside me. I’ve dreamt about being with him … a few times now. The thought of it is embarrassing because no matter whatmemories I carry of Wade, I have to shut them down before they bloom. He’s dad’s best friend. Off-limits and, well -- end of story.
The wooden welcome sign for Cady Springs slides past. I slow at the four-way stop and take in the bakery’s new mural. It’s seasonal with a swirl of pumpkins and pinecones. I notice the hardware store with its porch stacked in cordwood like a promise of winter. The peaks wear thin crowns of early snow. It’s all so beautiful and it pulls on my heartstrings with its nostalgic blend of what used to be my life.
I turn onto the road toward my dad’s place. It’s a ways up the mountain and the scenery is enticing me to pull to the side of the road and snap a few shots. But just around the bend, I slam the brakes. Speak of the devil.
Wade stands beside an army green pickup pulled onto the shoulder, hood propped. He’s bent over the engine in a forest-green flannel, sleeves shoved up, forearms roped with muscle. The afternoon light finds the slight silver at his temples. The squeal of my tires must have made his expression tense. I notice those eyes, dark as the timberline, as he looks my way, assessing me. I put the car in park and try to remember how to breathe.
“Hey!” My voice comes out too bright. “Need a hand?”
Wade straightens, wipes his palms on a shop towel tucked in his back pocket. His mouth tilts, not quite a smile.
“Lilah Grant.” He says my name like a fact he’s double-checking. “Thought that was your dad’s old Subaru coming in hot.”
“I like making dramatic entrances,” I say, chuckling. “Seriously, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Didn’t.” He nods at the engine. “Thermostat’s sticking. She’ll make it to the house if I baby her.”
She. Of course, the truck is a she.
“I could follow you?” I offer. “In caseshedecides not to cooperate.”
He looks me over from head to toe. “You just roll into town?”
“Ten minutes ago.” I try a smile. “Hi.”
Something softens around his eyes. “Hi.”
A horn blips behind us, and I jump. Wade lifts two fingers in apology to the passing car, then turns back to me. “You look … different.”
“Older, perhaps?” I tease. He doesn’t acknowledge the comment.
“What brings you back to Cady Springs?”
“I’m here for a fall photography series. Couple of weeks. Maybe more if the gallery wants the elk and the aspen stands across the ridge.”
His jaw moves like he’s weighing words. “That time window’s tight. Weather’s turning faster up high this year. And the elk are skittish are hell right now.”
“Then I’ll have to be quick.” I tip my chin, sunshine on the outside, nerves on the inside. “I can bribe them with apples.”
That earns me the ghost of a smile. A real one. “I wouldn’t bribe elk. They hold grudges.”
“Noted.”
We both hover in the space between what was and what is. I smell engine heat and him. Every part of me wakes up inside, just being in his presence. What a coincidence that I literally drive right to him.
I’m greedy for details about Wade. Did he ever find a woman? I notice a scar on his knuckle that I don’t think was there before.
He clears his throat. “Does Dave know you’re in?”
