Branded By The Mountain Man (Thickwood CO)

“Will you be okay?”

“Okay?” she asks, looking at me. I try to ignore how beautiful her eyes are. They’re a pale blue that remind me of a summer sky.

“To drive.”

“Oh, I’m not driving. I’m going to camp here for a few days. Soak in the sun and enjoy the mountain, before moving on.”

“This is my mountain,” I growl, reminding her of something that she should already have inside that pretty little head of hers.

“Uh, you can’t own the entire mountain.”

“A good portion of it, and nothing lives on the rest of it.”

“That’s strange.”

“I don’t see anything strange about it.”

“Usually a mountain has birds and squirrels living on it. I’d venture to say even a bear or two, and yet you claim nothing lives here.”

“I meant people,” I growl.

“Well, I’m a people and for now I’m going to live here,” she says stubbornly. She opens the truck door, with the pig wrapped under her arm and slides out of the truck. She lets out a painful gasp and her face crunches up. She goes pale, but when her eyes open back up to look at me, she’s doing her best to appear overly happy. “Thank you for your help, Mr….”

“Are you even going to be able to walk to your damn van?” I snarl.

She jumps at the tone of my voice but surprises me.

“Watch me,” she says. Then she shuts the door, and hobbles with surprising grace away from the truck.

Unfortunately, I do watch her as she walks away from me, the rain still coming down so hard that I’m feeling guilty I didn’t carry her and sprint to the van. Instead, I stare at her ass and the way her wet jeans are clinging to them.

Fuck.3Ophelia“Quit staring at me like that Bogo. I get it. I might have made a teensy mistake,” I moan.

Bogo snorts at me. The damn pig. I can tell she’s disgusted with me. I’m kind of disgusted with myself. We’re on the van’s built in couch, our noses pressed to the window, watching it pour the rain. This is day two and there’s barely been a break in the rain. I keep hoping it’s going to stop, but so far there’s no sign of it. I need to be working, but I can’t free my mind up enough to do it.

I’m a web designer. I have several huge corporations signed with me and I really enjoy it. It helps I make a good living from it too. People think I’m flighty, or a bubble-headed girl without a clue. I’m far from it, I’m just me. I love using my creative juices flow and creating something that is functional and yet beautiful—out of nothing. That might be what draws me to this line of work. It makes me feel challenged to look at a company’s problem areas and finding a way to help fix them.

Although, right now I feel really stupid. I watch the water rising under the bridge and realize that I’m going to have to do something soon. It’s a small wooden bridge with a very small weight limit. It wasn’t exactly sturdy when I drove past it before. Or, maybe it was, and I’m just a big chicken. Which I can admit I am sometimes.

“Okay, Bogo,” I mumble with a sigh. “We’re going to have to move. It’s clear we can’t stay here.

Bogo lets out a little whimper and I reach down and pat his little head. He’s feeling as nervous as I am. I make my way to the front of the van, pulling the curtain that divides the living area from the front seats. Then I sit down in the driver’s side and start Mellie Mae up. I don’t know why I call my van Mellie Mae. It just seems to fit her.

Just in the time that I’ve made the decision, and turned the van around, the water is starting to move over the top of the bridge. That refrain that I’ve always heard keeps repeating over and over in my head.

Turn around, don’t drown.

I sure don’t want to drown, but I can still see some of the wood between the muddy streams of water that is running over it. Surely it’s still safe? I mean it was mere minutes ago that the bridge was fully visible. I’m just being a silly ninny.

I ease off the brakes and start advancing forward. If I go slow enough, I should be able to tell if I’m in trouble and stop really quick. I don’t know if it’s a good plan, but it feels sound—at least in my head. My heart is beating hard, as adrenaline begins thrumming through me. Just as I’m close to the bridge I let out a scream because the man from yesterday appears right in front of my van, somehow looking even more foreboding than before.