Rock Hard in Hollow Peak (Hollow Peak Mountain Men #12)

Chapter 1

Poppy

“You said you wanted to try new things,” I mutter to myself, trying to focus on the fresh scents of pine and cedar but I keep slipping in the mud from the newly thawed ground.

The trill of birdsong dances on the breeze, the joyful notes lifting my spirits.

I square my shoulders, prepared to enjoy this unexpected outing and, dammit, my foot squelches again, sliding against a branch that scrapes just above my brand-new, too-stiff hiking boots.

I huff out a puff of air, daring to look up from the ground to see how far ahead Matt is.

He’s up ahead, golden hair perfectly in place, his gait sure and steady while I flop around on the incline like a sea lion trying to hoist myself up on a piece of ice.

Do sea lions flop? I pause to think and catch my breath, glancing around.

Despite the pounding of my heart and the sweat making my shirt stick to my back, I have to grudgingly admit that there could be worst places to hang out than the San Juan Mountains.

It really is pretty here, in the mountain forest just outside of Hollow Peak, the deep greens reaching into the blue sky, with lighter green shoots and leaves just starting to bud under the warming sun.

I unzip my fleece, letting the still-chilly breeze cool my overheated chest. No matter the view, I’d still prefer to be home on the couch with a book and some hot chocolate, but here I am chasing Matt up the side of a mountain for God-only-knows-what.

“Poppy?”

I bristle at the sound of annoyance in his tone. I’ve been hearing it more and more lately. Poppy, are you listening to me? Poppy, do you need to eat ice cream after that dinner? Poppy, are you really going to wear that?

At first, Matt was super-attentive and sweet, hanging on my every word and showing up with my favorite ice cream.

We’d met through work, sort of. He was a podcaster who specialized in unsolved mysteries, and I work for a production company.

He’d been trying to get a meeting with one of the executives, but it kept getting rescheduled.

After one such disappointing appointment he was drowning his sorrows in the café next door to our office, and he saved me when some guy in a huge rush practically shoved me in his haste to grab his coffee order and go.

Thank goodness Matt had been there, otherwise I would have ended up on the floor.

He’d been like a knight in shining armor and when he asked for my number, I thought maybe this was like a rom-com meet-cute.

But three months later and it doesn’t feel like that anymore.

I’m not all that experienced with relationships but I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to feel like walking on eggshells whenever I see him.

I don’t know if I’d call him my boyfriend, because Matt isn’t into defined terms. Inwardly, I roll my eyes as I picture the air quotes.

My friend, Nevaeh, says it’s at most a situationship.

We hang out sometimes, but it’s always last minute, or when he wants to run something by me about his business.

We haven’t even slept together. Matt says we don’t have to define what we are for that, but the few times we’ve kissed it’s only left me feeling cold.

“Poppy, are you coming?”

I blink and glance up. Matt’s standing above me with his hands on his hips, vibrating with impatience.

“Yeah, I just slipped, and a branch got me.”

Matt’s forehead wrinkles. “Well, you need to watch where you’re going.”

I wait for him to come back to me, but he waves an arm. “Let’s go, I don’t know how long the weather is going to hold and it’s already taken us much longer than I expected.”

I sigh and forge ahead, picking my way carefully up the incline. Maybe the view will be spectacular at the top, or wherever it is Matt is set on getting to. The distance between us closes and Matt pats my back when I pause for a breath.

“Beautiful day for a hike,” he says. “If you worked out a little more, you wouldn’t be so out of breath.”

I try to suck in some oxygen as inconspicuously as possible.

“Yup.” It really is and I should be enjoying it but instead sweat has my shirt sticking to my back and my thighs burn from the hilly terrain.

His comment stings, but maybe this is just the push I needed to get myself in shape.

Maybe it’s just the push I need to walk away from Matt as well.

I believe in happy endings but I’m starting to feel like I might not believe in mine.

He pulls out his water bottle, tipping it up to his lips before holding it out to me.

I take it gratefully. I could start going to the gym, get some cute new leggings and become a fitness girl…

I shake my head, realizing Matt has been talking to me.

I nod my head at whatever he said, tuning back in.

“You know, Poppy, I’ve been thinking that you could maybe talk to Geoff about introducing me to some of those sponsors he’s been working with.”

Geoff’s my boss and a producer for some of the top podcasts currently running.

Matt has been working on launching his podcast about unsolved mysteries.

Not the true crime kind of mystery, but more human-interest celebrity gossip stuff.

Before moving to Colorado, Matt had been a reporter for TMZ and had some impressive contacts.

At least he told me they were impressive. I agreed to get him a pitch meeting with my boss and Geoff thought there might be some potential to Matt’s ideas, but he stressed that Matt needed real content.

“Um, I’m just Geoff’s assistant…”

“Oh, come on. It’s obvious Geoff listens to you. I bet if you asked, I could pitch some of those sponsors who would definitely be interested in working with me.”

“Yeah, maybe, but shouldn’t you focus on your content right now?” I take another sip.

Matt’s jaw tightens before he gives me a sly smile. “I’m working on something that Geoff won’t be able to resist.” He puffs out his chest. “You know what, don’t worry about it, those sponsors will be begging me to rep them once I break this story.”

“What story?” I hand him the water bottle, trying to remember if he told me about this.

“One of my contacts tipped me off that Gibson Hart had some kind of breakdown.” He turns and marches ahead, sweeping a branch out of the way.

“Gibson Hart?” The name rings a bell with me as I dodge the limb snapping back into place.

“The rock star? He was the singer from Velvet Riot who just up and quit the band a few of years ago.”

Ah, now I remember. That guy’s name was on the lips of every woman from the minute he appeared on the scene. He was even number one on my friend Neveah’s Freebie Five and still might be. “Didn’t he die?”

Matt shook his head. “That was the drummer. Car accident. It might have been a tipping point though because Gibson Hart’s parents died in a plane crash when he was a teenager. But they got a new drummer. Gibson ended up in rehab.”

“How do you know all this stuff?”

He sighs and I kind of feel like he’s patting me on the head. “I just do, that’s why my podcast is going to be huge.” He glances back over his shoulder. “Gotta keep up, Poppy.”

My chest tightens. “Where are we going anyway?” I thought this was supposed to be a leisurely spring hike in the mountains.

Matt mutters under his breath so I don’t catch his words.

Thighs burning, I lengthen my stride, hustling to catch up.

Eyes firmly on the ground to avoid any muddy patches, I’m caught completely unaware until a faint whoosh is my only warning to the large branch flying back towards my face.

I try to dodge, but I’m not quite quick enough and my ankle buckles, nausea rising in my throat at the wrenching sensation flashing up my leg before hitting the ground, my elbow striking something hard and I cry out as cold mud seeps into my leggings.

“Jesus, Poppy.” Matt crashes back through the tree that tried to murder me. “How did you end up right behind me? Didn’t you see that branch? You have to watch where you’re going.”

I swallow hard, the burn of tears sharp and painful in the back of my throat.

Matt crouches down. “Are you okay?”

My eyes well, not at his concern, but at the annoyance he can barely hide with his tone. Nodding, I sit up, ignoring the throb that seems to echo from my elbow to my hip and down my leg. I flex my ankle, teeth sinking into my lip as pain explodes at the tiny movement. I suck in a gasp.

Matt hangs his head. “Is it broken?”

“I—I don’t think so. I can move it, but it hurts.”

“Okay.” He sighs and pulls out his phone.

“My signal isn’t great up here and you’re full of mud with a fucked-up ankle.

” His jaw clenches. “Through the trees there’s more of a clearing.

You can wait there while I find a branch sturdy enough for you to use as a crutch.

And I need to take a quick look at something.

I look up over his shoulder. The sun has disappeared behind a bank of clouds I hadn’t seen earlier. The breeze has a distinct chill, but maybe that’s due to the mud I’m sitting in. “Matt, I’d really like to go home.”

He grunts, pulling me up while I wobble on one leg. “I need to check something out.”

I wonder what he’s up to. I knew there was more to this hiking trip than “fun”. Flutters of apprehension appear in my stomach. There’s no way I’m getting back to the car on this ankle. Matt and I hobble a few feet past the trees into a clearing with a large boulder. I lower myself to the rock.

“I’d carry you back down the mountain, but you’re just too heavy,” he says, propping my bag next to me so I can lean on it.

Too heavy. Too clumsy. Too much trouble.

My throat tightens. “I have some ibuprofen in my bag. I’ll take that. It’ll be fine.”

“Alright, stay here and try not to do any more damage.”

The wind ruffles the trees behind me. “You won’t be gone long, will you?”

Matt’s holding his phone up, presumably trying to find the exact angle he needs to gain another bar.

“I hope not.” He doesn’t even look down.

“But now I’ve got to figure a way to get you back to the car.

” He sighs, lowering the phone. “While I’m gone why don’t think of a way to get me invited to that sponsors’ lunch thing Geoff is planning?

” He grins. “I mean, if my name somehow made its way onto the list, Geoff would just assume the agency included me, right?”

A shadow falls over the clearing as the clouds drift together. “I can’t do that, Matt, I could lose my job.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “I’m certain no one would check.” He pats me on the head. “Just think about it, babe.”

I watch his retreating back before digging in my pack for the pain medication. Swallowing two, I flex my ankle, throwing up a silent prayer for the sun to break through the clouds.