Wounded Mountain Man (Hot Mountain Nights #4)

Chapter 1

1

JESSALYN

T his was a bad, bad, bad idea.

I glanced at the screen of my phone, which was mounted to my dash.

According to the screen, I was still a half mile back.

I was supposed to turn on one of these roads to get to a campground, but now I had no idea which one.

It was on the right.

I knew that much. Surely, there’d be a sign.

Campground this way .

Nope. No such luck. I passed a street but didn’t turn.

I thought about it, but I didn’t want to go down the wrong way.

This definitely seemed too soon.

Another road came right after.

Then nothing.

It was one of those two roads.

Sighing, I glanced in my rearview mirror and confirmed nobody was behind me.

Then I pulled into the driveway of a cabin on the left.

I backed out, re-routing to pick one of those two roads.

Speaking of re-routing, it sure would be nice if my app would start doing that spinny thing it did when I went the wrong way.

This wasn’t my usual GPS.

It was the one I’d loaded when I started driving for a rideshare company.

Someone said there was plenty of work here in this mountain town, but in the past three weeks, I’d spent the entirety of my time at the bottom of the mountain where the shops, restaurants, and bars now stood.

The farthest I’d come up this mountain was the ski lodge.

This was well beyond that.

Someone was camping out and had decided they needed to go to town for supplies.

I was the person for the job.

Except this didn’t feel right.

I turned on the second of the two roads and found it dark and spooky.

There wouldn’t be a campground at the end of this.

There wouldn’t be anything at the end of this.

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

The road didn’t seem rough.

What was making that noise?

It sounded like I was going over speed bumps.

Did I have a flat tire?

No, that couldn’t happen.

Not here. Not now. Not without cell phone service so I could call for help.

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

That couldn’t be good, whatever it was.

It didn’t feel like I had a flat tire.

That had happened to me once.

And there was no mistaking the way my car leaned.

Maybe that didn’t always happen, though.

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

Hiss.

I slammed on my brakes at that last sound, staring straight ahead.

Suddenly, steam appeared in front of me.

Was it foggy outside?

Was something on fire up ahead?

No, this was directly in front of me.

My brain just couldn’t register it.

My car was smoking and hissing and thunking even now with my foot on the brake.

I shifted into park and hit the button to shut off the ignition.

This car was only a few years old.

How was it possible it was breaking down here in the middle of nowhere?

I pulled on the door handle and climbed out, moving around to the front of the car.

Definitely smoke, but no flames.

Still, I probably should stand back a little.

What if it caught on fire?

Crap, my stuff was in there.

My purse, my phone…my life.

Well, the part of my life that wasn’t back at the room I rented in an older woman’s house in Adairsville.

I walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in, grabbing my phone and purse, as well as the lipstick I kept in the console.

It was a weird thing to rescue, but I was a little addicted to the soothing moisture.

I managed to get back in front of the car without anything exploding, but that was when I realized my heart was racing.

Some part of me had fully expected things to go way wrong.

I glanced at my phone.

No service , the tiny words in the upper-right corner screamed at me.

It may as well read, You are totally, completely fucked .

I turned in a circle and weighed my options.

I could head back toward the main road, take a left, and try to find that campground.

But what if the campground was down this road?

I’d go all the way back in that direction only to find nothing.

I looked at the road ahead.

It was paved. It had to lead somewhere.

Nobody would pave a road for no good reason.

I reflexively glanced at my phone screen, preparing to search the map around me, and then I realized that wasn’t an option.

I had to do things the old-fashioned way.

I had to explore on foot.

I started walking, but the farther I went, the more discouraged I felt.

Nothing but trees. Spooky, spooky trees.

No cars whizzed by. No streetlights lit the way.

Just me, relying on the moon.

I was probably a good quarter mile into my walk when I saw smoke up ahead.

For a moment, I wondered if I’d somehow managed to circle around, and my car was what I was seeing.

No, I’d gone in a straight line.

There was no way.

Either something was on fire or someone had built a campfire.

I was hoping for the latter, because if a person wasn’t with the fire, I was still screwed.

“I see something,” I said to myself as the path neared an end.

There was a gigantic patch of dirt that seemed to overlook the mountains.

But something sat on that patch of dirt.

Was I imagining it? I thought of those people who walked in the desert for a long time and saw things.

Mirages, they were called.

Maybe this was a mirage.

But no, I was hardly dying of thirst or about to collapse from heat stroke.

There was actually a nice breeze in the air that made it the perfect night for a long walk on a hiking trail in the mountains.

But I still could be imagining the gigantic RV with the campfire in front of it and no one around.

“Hello?” I called out.

I blinked several times.

Long, slow blinks meant to clear my vision.

It was still there. But no sign of anyone, and no response to my shouts.

I eyed the door to the RV as I got closer.

Should I just walk up and knock?

It wasn’t exactly a house.

But what else could I do?

I needed help. I needed someone with at least one bar on their cell phone—or a way to get me back to civilization so I could call for help.

I opened my mouth to call out again, but my words caught in my throat when the door to the RV burst open.

Out stepped a man. He held a gun.

“Holy shit,” I said.

I stepped back, hands going in the air.

My phone fell to the ground, and I had the bizarre thought that I hoped the screen didn’t shatter.

Who cared about a phone screen while facing down the barrel of a very intimidating rifle?

But I wasn’t used to guns.

Worrying about my phone screen shattering was an everyday thing.

The guy straightened slightly and lowered the rifle, aiming it toward the ground.

My fear suddenly turned to confusion.

This wasn’t some country bumpkin who spent his life keeping people off his land.

No, he looked like he’d walked straight out of a gym with his bulky muscles and tight-fitting T-shirt and jeans.

He was hot. Hot as hell.

I’d never seen anyone so good-looking.

And he was all the way out here in the middle of nowhere in the type of RV that retired people used to travel the country.

It made no sense.

“You’re on private property,” he said.

“No shit.”

Had those words just slipped out?

Yep. It was pretty darn obvious I was on private property.

This was hardly a bustling area of town.

But I had to be nice to the guy.

I needed his help, after all.

“Sorry,” I said, lowering my hands.

He didn’t raise the gun, and I considered that a good sign.

“My car broke down. I think it’s on fire. It’s smoking, at the very least. And my phone…”

I looked down at it and made a sad face, like I was grieving its death.

It was face down on the pavement.

Why couldn’t I have at least dropped it on the grass just two feet away?

“There’s no cell phone service up here,” he said.

“No internet, either.”

Was this guy one of those types who lived off the land?

That RV of his didn’t appear to be hooked up to electricity, so I was guessing so.

But didn’t everybody need a phone?

How did he get food?

He drove down to town and bought it, like everyone else.

That was an ignorant thought.

I was such a city girl.

I should probably keep my mouth shut about things like that.

“I just need to get back to civilization,” I said.

“If I can get cell phone service, I can…”

My voice drifted off there.

What? Call a rideshare?

I was the only one in the area doing that.

In fact, I’d left some poor guy named Remy stranded.

I’d asked if this guy was Remy, but clearly he hadn’t requested a ride.

“I can’t help you,” he said.

“My truck’s in the shop.”

I stared at him.

Did his RV not have a motor?

I should ask, but I didn’t really have a right to stomp up to what was obviously his home and demand he take me somewhere.

I could start crying.

Maybe he’d take pity on me and help.

I shouldn’t have to do that, though.

A gentleman wouldn’t leave a distressed damsel distressed.

He lowered the gun even more, took a deep breath, and looked around.

“Fine. Come on in.”

Without waiting to see if I followed, he headed into his RV, stomping up the steps and leaving the door open behind him.

Did he actually expect me to follow him inside?

I didn’t know him from Adam.

I didn’t even know Adam.

I was a complete newcomer to this area and confused about the fact that this guy lived up here with no way to get to where people and supplies were.

But instinct told me I could trust him.

And my instincts never failed me.

I’d developed street smarts from a young age, and I knew how to keep myself safe.

But that wasn’t the reason I followed him up those three steps and into his RV.

No, what had me following him was this intense attraction I felt for him.

I’d never experienced anything like it.

If I had even the remotest chance this guy might be attracted to me in return, I had to see where it would go from here.

Otherwise, I’d never forgive myself.