Branded By The Mountain Man (Thickwood CO)

When the man in question pulls over in a large wide area, I follow suit. I watch as he hops out of his truck and walks toward my van. Yesterday I saw him without a shirt. Today he has one on, although it is wet and clinging to his body. It’s a black t-shirt that has a motorcycle on it and some writing that I can’t really make out. It’s stretched against his muscles and maybe it’s not as good as his bare chest, but it’s still really hot. His hair is still down and covering part of his face, which is a shame, because he has these really angular and strong features that I find masculine and sexy. I love his hair, but I definitely want to pull it away from his face so I can see him. Yesterday I saw a rather large scar that was jagged and followed along the side of his face. Maybe he’s self-conscious about that? I don’t know why I’m intrigued over this man, but I definitely can admit that I am.

I roll down my window when he makes it to me.

“You can camp here until the water recedes.

“Uh…”

“What?” he snaps, clearly wanting to be somewhere else.

“Well, I don’t suppose you have a can of gas I can borrow?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s just that it’s kind of creepy here. There’s no outside light like where I was before. I have a generator, but I didn’t fill up my gas can because there was an outside light and I had everything else… I mean I have a flashlight, so I guess I’ll be okay. Bogo really is scared of the dark though.”

“Christ,” he curses under his breath. “Lock up and you can ride with me. I’ll get you some gasoline.” He walks off and I watch him go.

I look down at Bogo and sigh.

“Okay so he might be a jerk.”

Bogo shakes his head yes.

Bogo is a good judge of character. I should listen to him. Instead, I hop out of the van, shelter Bogo under my jacket, lock my doors and follow the grouchy man with a great body, but shitty attitude.

And I don’t even know why.6Braden“I thought I told you to stay in the truck,” I growl.

“You did, I just didn’t listen,” Ophelia says. I have no idea why, but her name makes me want to laugh. It’s as off the wall as she seems to be.

“Why not?” I groan, wondering why I’m finding her so damn cute.

“Bogo is afraid of the dark. This is a pretty cabin. Is it yours?”

“You brought the pig too?”

“I couldn’t leave him alone,” she mutters, adjusting the little mutt under her jacket. I shake my head. “And I told you he doesn’t like that P word. We don’t use it.”

I shake my head, having no idea what to say to that

“It’s not my house. It’s my buddy Judd’s home.”

“Wow,” she breathes.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just I never imagined you actually had friends.”

“Everyone has friends.”

“Normal people, sure. But you’re not exactly normal.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I question, exasperated.

“Well, to have friends you kind of have to be…”

“Yes?” I growl, stopping to look at her, ignoring the rain, but glad it seems to have slowed down at least.

“You have to be friendly and you kind of got to admit that you’re not. No offense.”

“Maybe I’m friendly to the people in my life and not curly-headed women who trespass on property that doesn’t belong to them.”

“I’ve already explained that I didn’t know it was private property. I refuse to apologize again.”

“I don’t remember you apologizing the first time,” I counter.

“I’m sure I must have,” she argues.

“I’m just as sure that you didn’t.”

“Why are we at your friend Judd’s home?” she asks, changing the subject and clearly annoyed. That’s when a miracle happens. I smile. I can’t remember smiling in over two years.

Not since the day of my accident.

“He’s on call tonight and isn’t coming home. He wanted me to feed his dog.”

“Oh. That’s nice of you. You two must be very close.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well people hardly let strangers in their home,” she points out.

“He’s probably the only person that I let close to me,” I confirm.

“I understand. It’s good you have someone like that in your life.”

Thinking about everything Judd has done for me, there are times I wish he hadn’t bothered, but I guess she’s right.

“I suppose.”

“It does figure though,” she mumbles, opening up her jacket just a little and checking on her pig.

“What figures?”

“Nothing. You ever heard that old saying all the good men are either married, dead or gay?”

“I can’t say I have,” I respond, my brow furrowing as I try to follow this conversation and not really making heads or tails out of it. It just means I should have known you were gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’m glad you’re happy with Judd. It’s just another sign I’m probably going to be alone forever.”