The One With The Mountain Man
Chapter 1
Marley
I'm many, many, many, many ladders in the air
Hiding alone in the Appalachian Mountains sounded like a good idea until I got here. My knees shook. Hell, my knees weren't even there. They were jelly filled noodles that couldn't hold me up. That was why I was leaning against my truck door, sweating in the cool spring air, about to pass out.
"Whoa, you okay there?" A shadow fell over the pavement as someone came to stand in front of me.
"Nope," I managed to gasp out between my feeble attempts to draw air into my lungs.
"What do you need?"
It was such a simple question, but one that very few people bothered to ask me these days, so it hit harder than it should and made it even more difficult to get that precious oxygen into my lungs.
"Hey, I don't know what's going on, but I promise I won't let anything happen to you. Why don't you try bending over, it's easier to breathe that way."
I let this stranger guide me, paying zero attention to anything but air. What was I thinking driving someplace completely foreign to me? It didn't even occur to me that I might be getting in over my head.
How very me.
"That's it. Just keep breathing."
I flopped onto my backside, finally able to see straight, and looked up at my rescuer, only to be stunned back into silence. Above me stood a man in a cowboy hat. A gorgeous rough and tumble man. I always thought real life cowboy hats would look ridiculous but this one was perfect. Like it was made for this man. A part of him. He had dark hair, stubble on his square jaw, wore a soft blue t-shirt, worn jeans that molded to his impressive legs, and equally worn boots.
The man looked like he stepped straight off of a ranch.
Which...maybe that was possible? Again, I really didn't know diddly or squat about where I was...or where I was going for that matter. Nothing outside of the books I grew up reading.
When I suddenly needed to escape my life, I had the slightly unhinged idea that Lost Creek was the medicine I needed, picked a cabin, and was in my truck the next day. No planning. No research. I just...went.
"Thanks."
"Not a problem. Are you going to be okay?"
Was I going to be okay? Probably not. But you didn't say things like that to strangers. "I think so."
"Can I ask what's wrong? That looked a lot like a panic attack." His eyes studied me thoroughly, but not in an invasive way. It was careful and concerned.
And it struck me that there was no sense of recognition whatsoever, which was the whole point of coming out here in the first place: blissful anonymity.
"I, uh, I'm not used to heights. Or elevation. I'm from a very flat place where the highest I usually go is the top of a ladder. And right now I'm many, many, many, many ladders in the air."
The stranger gave me a soft smile. "Yes, you are."
"You probably think I'm very silly."
"Not at all." He squatted down in front of me so I didn't have to keep looking up. "I bet if I went to where you're from I'd feel pretty weird, too." He put one knee on the ground while the other stayed up. He propped one arm on top, the other fell to his thigh. An old-fashioned silver watch circled his wrist. He had light eyes, the same color as his shirt.
The old me would probably have flirted with this man. He was in great shape, attractive, kind, and I definitely enjoyed the way it felt to be near him, but the very thought of attempting it exhausted me. "You're good at this. Are you a professional calmer?"
His soft smile widened into a full grin. "I have four sisters. It was either learn to go with the flow or be demolished. I don't like being demolished."
"That's a lot of sisters. I only have one and sometimes that's too much." I truly loved both my brother and my sister, but Elora was a battering ram. She was convinced that if I just put my head down and pushed through, I could fix my problems. She didn't understand that no amount of willpower was going to bring back the voices in my head. They appeared when they wanted to. I had no say over it.
"Wait till you hear how many brothers I have." His eyes glinted with mischief.
I was such a sucker for men with a playful streak. "Please tell me you have more than one mother."
A dimple peeked out of his right cheek that sent my belly swooping in an entirely different way. "Unfortunately not."
"You're the oldest, aren't you?"
"Indeed I am. You can't be comfortable." His eyes flicked down to the pavement.
"I am one with the earth. It might not make sense, but if I just keep as low as possible, the elevation will stop mattering so much."
His eyes danced as he held back a chuckle. I liked that he liked my humor. I liked the buzz it gave me.
But I didn't have the time, space, or capacity for buzzing. Or swooping, if I had any chance of getting back on my feet, let alone behind the wheel of my truck.
"Just give it some time. You'll adjust. Let me buy you a sandwich. You look like you could use it."
I do not have time for buzzing! "That's really nice of you but—"
"Jackson." He stuck out his hand. "And you are?"
Now that was a complicated question. Not that I didn't know who I was, but I did go by many names. Which one did I want to give this stranger named Jackson? I decided to go with the name I most preferred and slid my hand into his big rough one. "Marley."
His head cocked to the side. "I don't think I've ever known a Marley before. That's a great name."
"Thanks. It's actually my middle name but I prefer it."
"What's your first name?"
A lot of uncomfortable feelings I didn't want to feel streaked through me, grabbing on like the claws of a hawk. There were several reasons I didn't choose to use my first name and most of them had to do with the pit in my stomach that formed every time I heard it. "Aurora."
"Also beautiful." His eyes swept over me again, this time softer. "But it doesn't suit you as well. It's nice to meet you, Marley."
"You as well." I slid my hand free, kind of wishing I hadn't. Jackson's hand was warm and comforting and I could use a huge heaping dose of comforting these days. "I really appreciate you stopping to help me."
His gaze flicked over me, his smile didn't falter, but it was clear as day that I confused him. "You parked outside this restaurant for a reason. I assume you're getting food. I'm getting food. We can sit at separate tables and pretend we don't know each other, or we can keep each other company for a few minutes before we go our separate ways."
He didn't give off any predator vibes. I didn't think he was trying to make a move. He just genuinely seemed like a nice guy concerned about another human being.
And I really was hungry. And a little worried that when I stood up the world would tilt slightly and I would fall, and fall, and fall forever.
"Yeah, okay. That would be nice."
He nodded once and stood up tall, reaching down for my hand. Part of me wanted to ignore the help and show him, and everyone, and myself, that I was perfectly capable of standing up on my own, but instead I took it, marveling at the swooping sensation that surged through my belly every time we touched. Why? He was just a good-looking dude with a nice smile and incredible eyes. How did that combination induce swooping? The laws of hormones and chemistry would forever confound me.
Jackson popped his hat off his head with a flourish, then held the door for me. I did not, in fact, fall. Nor did the earth tilt. Although it did spin a little, especially when I caught a whiff of Jackson. The man smelled good. Like leather, the outdoors, spice. Maybe he did just leave a ranch.
The waitress nodded us to the row of empty booths. The one on the end had three teenagers in it having a good old time with an impressive tower of jams and creamers. Two older men sat at the diner counter minding their own business. Otherwise, the place was empty. It was like my favorite diner back home, but more mountainy.
"What's good here?" I asked as Jackson slid in across from me, placing his hat on the bench beside him. The way he took extra care of that hat fascinated me.
"All the barbecue is good. Chili is fine. Salad's fine. But I stop here for the pulled pork and mac and cheese." He ran his hand through his dark hair, fluffing it up.
I was already stressed beyond my limits when I started out on this road trip, add in wrong turns, bad traffic, and now my brain and body having a proper freak-out over the sudden elevation change, and I was ready for a bottle of wine and my bed. I almost didn't even care about my big dumb book or its big dumb cliffhanger anymore.
I ordered what Jackson suggested and tried not to fidget when the waitress left us alone.
"So where are you from, Marley of the flatlands?" Jackson kept his hands on his side of the booth, his shoulders back, and his smile gentle. I appreciated how hard he was working to be nonthreatening—more than he would ever know. It was like the Universe was finally throwing me a lifeline. See, not all people are garbage!
"Florida. But not just Florida. I'm from an island. Super flat. We're talking like, three feet above sea level."
"And now you're over two thousand feet in the air."
I screwed my eyes shut as the world tilted all over again. "Please don't say that!" It was like I'd just jumped out of an airplane every time I thought about the height. My heart took off, the sensation of falling rushed through me, and I wanted to scream.
"The ground is the ground is the ground, Marley."
"That makes no sense! Up here there are all these places you can fall, Jackson. Fall and keep falling all the way down those thousands of feet. Where I'm from, if you fall, you just hit the ground or fall in the water." The very thought of falling so far scared the crap out of me.
Also, the word fall no longer sounded like a real word.
He shook his head, laughing. "I guess I'm just used to it." He ran his hand down his face as he calmed back down. "So why are you up here? Work? Play?"
"Work." Which was technically true, but this work involved finding wherever I put my creative spark. It was gone and I couldn't relight it. Two years of staring at my laptop while my fans screamed for answers I couldn't give them.
And speak of the devil, my phone buzzed with a new message from my assistant, Eliza.
We just escorted your stalker off the property. Two more death threats came in today. I really hope you're safe wherever you are all alone!
All the panic hit me again. The blind dash, the horrid breath, the mob outside the bookstore. Turns out when you give the world something and they fall in love with it, they also get really mad when you leave them without answers for two years.
"Hey," Jackson said, his hand covering mine, "was that bad news?"
I shoved my phone into my bag wishing it would take all my problems with it. "Uh, sort of. It's work stuff."
"You might want to look into a new job. This one doesn't seem to be doing you any favors." He released my hand and sat back as our food was delivered. It smelled amazing but my appetite was gone.
Again.
"Start with the fries. It'll help settle your stomach." Then he picked up an onion ring from the plate that sat between us and placed it on top of my fries. "Grease helps too."
Softly commanding. That's how I'd describe Jackson. Like a gentle giant. If only my life had more Jacksons in it.
But I couldn't have any Jacksons until I finished this book. And even then? Who was I kidding? No one would ever sign up for this three-ring circus. I would most likely die a lonely old spinster. No friends. No fans. No family. Just a wild animal I eventually took in thinking it's a pet, only to have it eat me.
Damn, that was morbid.
Jackson cleared his throat. "Look, it's none of my business, but do you need help getting where you're going?"
"I'll be fine." I had to be.
He cocked an eyebrow. "Again, none of my business, but you say that like you say it a lot. And that comes from personal experience."
"Oldest child."
He shrugged. "You know it."
What was his life like? Why did he need to be fine? Was it because he had so many siblings?
Stop. Stop thinking about his life. There was no point. In ten minutes I was climbing back in my truck and driving away. Probably.
I poked my fork through the pile of delicious looking pork, then dragged it through the creamy mac and cheese and sighed. "I've just got to get this project done. Everything will be fine once it's done." I forced myself to take a bite.
I was glad I did. My mouth watered as the combination of flavors hit and my stomach actually grumbled. "Oh fuck me, this is good." When I opened my eyes I found Jackson staring at me like I'd just stunned him. Maybe it was the profanity?
But it was really good food. It deserved an emphatic swear word or two. Maybe if we celebrated more things instead of tearing them down I wouldn't be fleeing to an isolated town I knew nothing about.
"I'm glad you're eating," his voice was rougher than before. He shook his head and cleared his throat. "And I hope whatever is troubling you goes away soon. The mountains have magic in them." His eyes grew darker and his jaw flexed as he turned his attention to the window, seeming to calm himself down.
Okay, so maybe it wasn't the profanity. His reaction, the way he looked away... oh. It had been a long time since someone reacted like that around me. It was nice.
Really, really nice. And...there was the swooping again.
"Magic, huh?" My voice didn't sound so smooth either. Maybe it was because I was suddenly a burning inferno. I grabbed a menu and fanned my face.
Do not think about Jackson.
Do. Not.
He shrugged. "It's true. You'll see." Then he glanced back at me with just his eyes, flashing that dimpled smile, and I knew if I spent any more time around Jackson I was going to be in oh, so much trouble.
So I shoveled down the rest of my food, made a hurried goodbye that left him flustered, and hightailed it out of that parking lot before I climbed across that booth and gave everyone a show that would surely have landed me in jail.
But hey, at least I forgot about the elevation.
Huk
I generally never felt panic or regret, but the sinking feeling in my gut as Marley drove away was unmistakable. I had just fucked up.
"You're usually a lot happier to see me."
I shook myself out of my stupor and looked up at one of my oldest friends, Travis Montgomery. "Shit. Sorry man." I got up and hugged my best friend who I'd completely forgotten I was meeting on my way back home.
"You staring after that shiny black F-150?"
There was no point denying it. "Pretty much. Take a seat." I picked at my leftover fries while Travis yammered on about work. When his food arrived he stopped talking long enough to inhale it.
But that sinking feeling kept growing to the point I was actually considering jumping in my truck and chasing after Marley. Why was she so panicked? Why did she look so sad? And what was in that message that put that look in her pretty eyes? Damn they were stunning. Like a glass of whiskey by the fire. "You ever make a mistake that changed your whole life?"
Travis dropped his onion ring, mouth slightly ajar. "Well, there was that one time I stretched for another yard and ended my career."
I groaned. "That's not what I mean. Well, no I guess it's the same thing. A split-second decision that has unintended consequences."
Travis slowly turned to stare out the window. "Who the hell was in that truck?"
Someone important. I just...knew it. There was no other explanation. Something in that short time and the words we exchanged made my gut believe she was someone I was supposed to know. "When I pulled up, there was this woman having a panic attack in the parking lot. I talked her through it." And felt like I already knew so much about her even though I knew almost nothing.
"This is why you ate without me? You were flirting?"
"I was definitely not flirting. And she wasn't in any state for that." The one time I thought about it sent her into a panic and the next thing I knew I was staring at taillights.
Damn.
features Lost Creek’s prodigal son, Jackson “Huk” Finn and writer-on-the-run Marley Tranquill (from Squeeze Play ) in a swoony small town romance coming June 24, 2025! Preorder today!