Page 5 of Mountain Man's Forgiveness
“They want to build their headquarters here, on property adjacent to the university. My research could get parts of the warbler’s habitat designated as a sensitive study zone, protecting it from development.”
Julia’s gaze darts between Aiden and me, her voice high-pitched. “It’s for a really good cause.”
Aiden pinches the bridge of his nose. “So you’re going to do this regardless of whether I say yes or not?”
I am wearing him down and practically jump with glee. “Absolutely. I can go by myself, but I’d rather have someone local take me deep into the warbler’s habitat. I’ve already talked with one of the park rangers, Asher Stone.” This is the truth, but Asher’s schedule might interfere.
“I know Asher. He’s an upstanding guy. Why not him?“ His eyes darken, and his voice rumbles like he doesn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.
“Having access to your property will expand our search route. Professor Davis suggested I contact you.”
“Fine. But we do it on my terms.”
“What are the terms?”
“One, I do this for free. Two, you have to schedule excursions in advance. None of that showing up without notice crap. Three, weather cancellations are final. If I say the conditions are too dangerous, that’s it. Four, no personal questions.”
That’s it? Seems easy to me.
And just like that, I’m going to be spending lots of time with Aiden Blackshear.
Chapter 4
Aiden
Islide on my hiking boots, tapping my prosthesis on the wooden floor until it fits correctly. I lace each boot, then head to the kitchen to fill my canteen. As I twist the cap, Eva’s Landcruiser rumbles up the drive, a plume of dust trailing behind her like she owns the road. She climbs out, sunglasses sliding down her nose, and even from here, the sight punches the air right out of my lungs.
Am I ready for this? Should I really be guiding a woman whose very presence makes me wish for things I haven’t wanted in a long while?
Another problem is that Julia would not quit asking me about my injury when they showed up at my house the other day. It is not something I talk about with any fucking person, but the girl wouldn’t let up. I should just appreciate that she and Eva don’t look at me like I have two heads, although, at 6’3” and 230 pounds, people have always dropped jaws when they see me.
But I’m not into talking about it. At all.
I’m not embarrassed of my prosthetic... that was never the issue.
But never being able to do the job I was born to do has gutted me. I just can’t visualize what my next steps are even though it’s time.
I swing the door open before Eva has the chance to knock. She stops short, inches from my chest, and for a second, neither of us moves. I’m close enough to see gold flecks in her brown eyes. The faint smell of sandalwood and citrus clings to her skin, and something inside me stirs that hasn’t in a long time.
Unaware of what’s happening with me, Queenie rushes out the door before I can catch her, her nails clicking on the stone.
“Sit.” She obeys my command instantly, haunches dropping even though Julia reaches down to pet her vigorously.
“Morning, Mr. Blackshear!” Julia is young, twenty probably, and quite bouncy today. Kinda like tigger. Again I question my sanity.
Out loud, I’m nicer. “Call me Aiden.”
“Morning, Aiden.” She reaches out to pet Queenie’s head, who wags her tail and eats it right up.
“Morning.” My eyes glide over to Eva. Today she’s in shorts that should damn near be illegal and a camp shirt, her hair twisted up in a knot underneath an Astros baseball cap. She’s sexy as hell with thick thighs and tanned legs for miles. My brain short-circuits long enough that I almost forget what I’m supposed to say. “Morning, Trouble.”
When all I get is an eye roll, though I could swear there’s a flicker of amusement for half a second. I have to hide my chuckle with a cough.
Rubbing my hands together, I ask, “Any idea where you both want to start your search?”
Eva walks over to the porch railing and motions me over. She leans close, the sun glinting off her smooth skin. Her shoulder brushes mine when she turns the phone, and every nerve I’ve got wakes up at her proximity. She pulls up a map on her phone,showing coordinates of previous warbler habitats and where Julia saw it last. After a brief discussion, I know just the place to begin.
“What do you think about scouting the south side of my property? There’s a thicket of juniper, a water source, and plenty of insects for the birds to eat.”
