Heart of the Mountain (Curves in Hope Mountain #1)

1. Sadie

SADIE

“ I can take you to the edge of the property, but ain’t no way I’m trespassing on Cutter’s land,” my taxi driver tells me as we wind our way up Hope Mountain. The tiny town with the same name grows smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror while I mull over his words.

“That’s fine, thank you,” I reply.

The property can’t be that big, right? Though the further we drive, the more I start to doubt myself.

The paved road gives way to a dirt road, which in turn leads to a rocky, poorly maintained path.

I look down at my kitten heels, wishing I’d changed my clothes before embarking on the latest shitty project my boss assigned me.

Sighing heavily, I lean back against the upholstered seat and think about the decisions I made leading up to this moment.

I had to take a bus to get to the town of Hope Mountain, then found out they didn’t have Uber, Lyft, or any other ride-sharing service.

They just have Hugo, who was a taxi driver in Denver for twenty years.

He drives people around for a nominal fee in the same cab he’s used for decades.

I swear I can smell every passenger who has ridden in this vehicle, but I try not to dwell on it. No use making a bad situation worse.

I’ve been at Top Spot Realty for over two months now.

If I could have gotten a job in a city further away from Las Vegas, I would have.

As a recent college graduate with zero real-world experience, however, I jumped at the opportunity to move to Denver.

The company even covered my moving expenses and the cost of getting certified as an agent in the state of Colorado.

I should be grateful, and I am. Most days. Today, however…

“This is as far as I’ll go,” Hugo announces.

I look out of one passenger-side window, then the other, before turning my attention to the front windshield. Yeah… Nothing here except trees and presumably bears and wolves and all kinds of bugs I can’t think about right now.

“Are you sure?” I ask

Hugo grins, his dark eyes crinkling in the corners as he looks at me in his rearview mirror. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” he muses.

I tilt my head at his response.

“No one is allowed on Cutter’s property, and I surely ain’t lookin’ for a fight today,” Hugo clarifies.

“But… I can’t even see the house from here,” I protest.

“That’s by design, I’m guessing. Cutter is a very private person.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” I mutter under my breath.

Hugo chuckles. “Seriously, are you sure you want me to drop you off here? I can turn around and take you back into town. I won’t charge you for the return trip.”

Part of me is tempted by his offer. This isn’t what I had in mind when my boss, Cindy, told me I needed to conduct a property assessment in a small, secluded mountain town a few hours from Denver.

I pictured locals with flower shops and bakeries.

Maybe a little sparse on entertainment, but charming all the same.

Taking another look through my window, my heart sinks when all I see is a thick forest surrounded by nothing for miles and miles. I curse my outfit again. While professional, it’s certainly not practical in a situation where I need to hike. Couldn’t Cindy have warned me of the hazardous conditions?

“Miss?” Hugo prompts, breaking into my thoughts.

“I’m sure,” I tell him with more confidence than I feel.

It’s not the first time I’ve plastered on a smile and taken one on the chin.

Sometimes, quite literally. I didn’t survive the foster system by turning down opportunities, even the ones that involve climbing a mountain in heels and a pencil skirt just to keep my job.

The driver gives me a skeptical look but doesn’t protest when I hand him cash for the ride, along with a nice tip. “Good luck,” he tells me as I gather my purse and step out of the cab.

I wave as Hugo executes an impressive four-point turn on the sketchy mountain road before heading back down the way he came.

“Okay. You got this,” I say to myself.

I tighten my grip on the strap of my purse, square my shoulders, and put one foot in front of the other. I make it all of five steps before the heel of my shoe sinks into the slightly moist soil lining the rocky road up to the infamous Cutter Morgan’s house.

Pulling my foot out of the mud, I continue my trek uphill, cursing my boss the entire time. I’m a huffing, puffing, sweaty mess after only a few minutes, reminding me how long it’s been since I worked out. Okay, fine. It’s reminding me that I’ve never worked out in all twenty-one years of my life.

I focus on my mission, hoping to distract myself from the blisters on my feet and the painful stitch in my side from hiking.

Cindy has her eye on Hope Mountain, both the town and the properties on the mountain itself.

She–along with her partners at Top Spot Realty–has a plan to renovate the forgotten town and bring tourism here.

I pull out my phone and make a note to start by fixing the roads.

No one is going to vacation here if they can’t even drive halfway up the mountain.

I make another note to inform all employees that they’ll need to wear hiking boots and bring bug spray, but I probably won’t include it in my final report.

Cindy sent me an email yesterday afternoon explaining the new project and how we’ll need to “move carefully and strategically” when scouting out locations around town. She told me to be “discreet,” which made me snort. If she wanted a stealthy agent, she certainly shouldn’t have picked me.

For starters, my fiery red hair isn’t exactly subtle. Paired with my tendency to ramble when I’m nervous and the need to state my opinion when no one asks, and yeah, I’m a bit puzzled as to why she picked me for this job.

I’ve always been… too much. Too talkative, too curious, too loud, too fat.

That last one stings, though I’ve owned up to the rest. I have a big personality and a lot of thoughts, and some people can’t handle that.

The comments about my weight from foster parents and some foster kids still play in a loop in my brain when I go to bed at night.

Shaking my head of those depressing thoughts, I try to focus on the task at hand. The sooner I poke around this property, the sooner I can return to civilization.

I continue following what I hesitate to call a road until it fades into the thick, almost suffocating forest. What the hell?

I look behind me, confirming there’s a path, however pathetic.

When I stare ahead again, I’m met with nothing but trees, moss, and the forest floor, littered with leaves and sticks.

Should I keep going? There has to be a road somewhere up ahead, right? I mean, how else would the property owner get down the mountain?

I take one last long look around me in case I missed a sign or another road, but I’ve got nothing. My feet are screaming at me, my stomach is growling, my sweaty hair is matted to my forehead, and I’m about the furthest thing from prepared for this mission.

The horrors persist, and so do I, I think to myself. So I'm a little nervous, but that’s okay. I’ve done scarier things than hiking through an unfamiliar wooded area. With no marked trail. Oh, and no water or food.

“Fuck,” I huff.

For what feels like the tenth time today, I take a deep breath, hold my chin high, and push forward. What other choice do I have? I need this job. If things continue to get worse, I can always apply to other agencies when I return to Denver.

With my pep talk over and done with, I forge ahead.

It takes me less than five minutes to stray from my original plan of finding a clearing up ahead.

A giant fallen tree blocks me from going forward.

I attempt to climb over said tree, but the moss makes my hands slip, and I wince at the rough bark cutting into my palms.

“Fuck,” I mutter again as I wipe my hands on my skirt. I close my eyes and pick a direction to walk that isn’t forward or backward. It makes as much sense as anything else, at least in my mind.

I adjust my purse and turn to my left, walking with confidence down my new path.

The land itself has loads of potential. We wouldn’t have to raze the forest or anything; we could simply create a few hiking trails, install some signage, and make it worth the hike with a resort at the top of the mountain.

I’m busy typing out my thoughts on my phone when I’m suddenly jerked to the side. I fall on my ass with a thud and begin rolling down an embankment. I clutch my phone in one hand and try grabbing onto something with the other to keep myself from falling.

Sticks and branches claw at my clothes and rip at my hair, but I can’t seem to get a grip on anything to slow down my momentum. My blouse rips open, sending the cute sparkly buttons flying in every direction. A second later, I lose the shirt completely.

My foot gets wedged in a knotted tree root sticking out of the earth, making me and my considerable weight come to an abrupt stop.

I struggle to catch my breath, the endless treetops spinning faster and faster the longer I look up.

I slam my eyes shut to keep from getting sick to my stomach.

Finally, I gasp and sputter for air, realizing I hit the ground so hard I knocked the wind out of my lungs.

Oxygen floods my system along with a painful awareness of my throbbing ankle. I try wiggling my left foot free, but end up biting back a yelp at the intense, sharp pain radiating up my foot and leg.

A welcome breeze kisses my cheeks, cooling me down from the heat and sweat of my trek out here. I lie on my back and think of my options. I still have my phone secured in my hand, but one look at the screen tells me I have no service out here because, of course, I don’t. That would be too easy.

I wish I’d taken Hugo up on his offer to drive me back to town.

The breeze picks up, whipping my hair in my face along with a few dried leaves.

The temperature seems to have dropped dramatically in the last ten minutes.

It felt refreshing at first, but now that my back is pressed against the cool earth, I’m starting to get chilly.

I’m sure the lack of my shirt is also contributing to my discomfort.

In nothing but a bra, a ripped skirt, and my stupid shoes that are partially to blame for my current situation, I feel more vulnerable than I have in a long, long time.

While I’ve never experienced anything quite like this, I’ve experienced feeling vulnerable and at the mercy of the powers that be, whether it’s the state sending you to shitty foster homes or Mother Nature kicking you while you’re down.

“Come on, think,” I say to myself. “You’ve been in worse situations than this.

” I try to think of one, but nothing comes to mind.

Still, I’ve survived a hell of a lot, and I’m not about to be taken down by a damn tree root.

Not when I just started life on my own, without all the baggage of Las Vegas and everything I left behind.

A rustling noise catches my attention, and I freeze, not sure what to expect. A bear? A wolf? A mountain lion? Do they have those in Colorado?

My eyes dart around, searching in vain for something to defend myself with.

I doubt a dried-up branch will do much good against a wild beast. The sound grows closer, closer, closer before stopping just out of eyesight.

I press my back against the cool earth, trying to blend in with my surroundings.

Then I get a brilliant idea to cover myself in dirt and leaves as camouflage.

I fling a few handfuls of dirt over my nearly bare chest and torso, then nestle my head into the mound of dirt beneath me. Twigs and dried leaves tangle in my hair, but I’m hoping it all adds to the illusion.

I hold my breath and squeeze my eyes shut, trying with all my might to stay completely still.

Some animals have sight based on movement, right?

Then again, aren’t you supposed to make yourself big and scary for other animals?

I suppose I don’t have much of a choice.

I’m trapped here, so I lean into my strategy of blending into my environment.

Despite the imminent danger I find myself in, only one thought comes to mind: it would suck to be eaten by a bear before I even make my first sale.