Thunder Snow (Thunder On The Mountain Series) Read online

  I rushed to get the front door open and get inside before he could challenge my request. I flashed the light to let him know I was in safely, and wondered at my conflicting emotions as I leaned back against the front door. He sure did disturb my peace of mind.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Weeks passed, and I settled into a pleasant routine. My days were filled with photography, editing, writing guest articles for national Realtor publications, and addressing whatever issues Marge needed help with at the office.

  What a morning this had been. The hike up the hill had allowed me to get the photos I wanted and then some. I carried a small rain poncho in my camera bag, and when the brief rains started to fall softly, I put it on and continued with my shots. It had not been enough to dampen my spirits nor the excitement of capturing my surroundings.

  Few places I had seen were more breathtaking than sitting on the side of this mountain with the sun reflecting off the water and a breeze churning whitecaps. The warm colors of autumn were fading, but there was still beauty in the stark contrasts around me. I was totally lost in the beauty of it, and knew completely that I loved the sense of not being able to be found by anyone.

  Scrambling to get to level ground, I immediately froze when the bobcat crossed my path. Its feline grace thrilled me. I had my camera ready, and the seemingly unaware creature appeared to be posing for me. I knew I was getting some fabulous shots, and I lost myself in the incredible beauty of nature and landscape.

  Unaware how long I had been shooting, I was shocked when a lightning bolt hit nearby, exploding a rock into hundreds of fragments. I became conscious that it was raining and I was freezing. I realized a cold front was coming in rapidly over the mountain. Typical Colorado weather – if you don’t like it, so the expression goes, wait five minutes and it will change. That seemed to be even truer at this higher elevation.

  I could hear the car speeding up the winding road as I moved as fast as my freezing limbs would allow. I scrambled to get across the dirt road before whoever it was came around the blind curve. The mud-splattered Jeep burst around the bend. My first thought was to wonder how the driver could possibly see anything out of the filthy windshield. As it sped up the road, it scattered mud and gravel everywhere, leaving me looking as though I had been doused with a melted Snickers bar.

  Catching my breath from the thick, cold mess covering me, a second vehicle came around the corner at a more moderate speed. I inched closer to a large boulder on the edge of the road to make sure I was well out of the way and would be no distraction to the driver. Spotting me standing there, Jack slowed and pulled over.

  “Lost?” he called as his window was rolling down. “What in the world happened to you?” He pulled as far as he could to the side of the narrow road. I hadn’t said a word, just stood there looking up at him. He had to be at least six two or three, my brain registered as he came around to the front of his car.

  “Cat got your tongue?” he seemed to purr.

  He looked me up and down, from my filthy boots to my matted hair, and his smile got even bigger. At first I wanted to be angry that he would find my predicament so amusing. As I thought about what I must look like, and that I was standing in the middle of nowhere, freezing,

  covered in mud, storm coming in, I grasped how ridiculous my situation was, and how truly ratty I must look.

  The rain started yet again; he was also getting wet. I started laughing. The more I laughed, the bigger his smile became, until we were standing in the cold with the wind howling, laughing like school children.

  “Hurry,” he called to me above the rising wind. “We’re on this corner and it’ll be dangerous to anyone else coming up the mountain, especially in this weather.”

  He took the camera bag from my shoulder, tossed it onto the back seat of his car, opened the passenger door, and motioned for me to get in. Mortified, I stood looking at him, noticing for the first time that he was dressed in a suit. I refused.

  “No way will I get in your car in my condition. I sincerely thank you for the offer, but . . . no way.”

  He took a step closer, our eyes locked. “The upholstery has seen worse. Get in.” Somewhere along the way I wondered if his cheeks were getting red from the biting wind, or if his blood was pulsing like mine.

  Where had my brains gone? Was the cold confusing me? I couldn’t even think with him standing this close. His proximity took my breath away. Had it been minutes since I’d taken a breath? Or was it not the wind and just because it was so cold that it hurt to breathe? If time were truly standing still, why didn’t I just look away so I could inhale again?

  In what felt like a time warp, even an out of body experience, I was surprised when his voice gentled and brought me back to reality. “Get in, little one.”

  Glad that my face was muddy so he couldn’t see me blush, I remembered my predicament. Standing on a cold cliff with this unusual man, covered from head to toe in mud, not only were we in a dangerous position, but he now had my camera equipment captive in his car. He guided me to the open door. There was a blanket on the seat so I wasn’t quite as concerned I would do irreparable damage. The heater immediately began to penetrate my consciousness. My teeth started chattering in earnest as I leaned forward so as not to have any more contact with the seat than necessary.

  “Rather nice for mountain driving,” I stuttered. The Mercedes was warm, but my teeth were still chattering.

  “I had an appointment in Denver. This is my cruise ship,” he said with a grin. He was surprisingly pleasant.

  Shocked at how much I was shivering, it took an effort for me to even mumble the words, “I must have been out there longer than I thought.”

  “What were you THINKING being up there without a coat? Are you LOOKING for trouble?”

  “It was so perfect when I left. I had on boots and long sleeves. When the first shower hit, I threw on my rain slicker. When the sun came out again, I repacked it into my case. I started back quite some time ago, but got sidetracked by a bobcat. His winter coat was as luxurious as anything I have ever seen.”

  I could see his jaw working, so I was surprised when his words were not angry. “Bobcats won’t normally attack unless provoked, but rather than standing still taking pictures, you should have been backing away slowly, ready to throw a rock. You would have been a lot safer.

  “The weather changes in the blink of an eye, and what is a moderate day turns to crap in no time. There are not many afternoons it doesn’t rain here, and blue skies give way to tiny frozen shards in a hurry.”

  He wasn’t being condescending at all. He actually sounded like he was trying to be solicitous. When I realized how tender his voice sounded, I was furious with myself when I felt tears stinging my eyes. “I’m not a novice to the elements.” Was there a whine in my voice? “Truth be told, I am much more mortified that you found me like this.”

  He looked surprised and held my gaze for another moment. “How did you get so muddy?” Did he know I was on the brink and that’s why he had gentled his question? Or was it the chattering teeth that had him feeling sorry for me?

  “Just as I was crossing the road, an old Jeep came hell bent around the curve. He never saw me, but the mud from his tires took perfect aim.” I tried to smile, but could feel the mud cracking on my face.

  He pulled a jacket from the back seat and put it around my shoulders. “Wrap up in that and don’t argue,” he scowled. “Hank just can’t seem to take these hairpins at a reasonable speed. One of these days he’s gonna hurt himself. Or worse yet, someone else.”

  He pulled the coat up under my chin. Our eyes met, and he ran his thumb over my drying, muddy cheek. “Cheap facial,” he smiled as I tried to break the spell his soft touch had spun in our enclosed warmth, even as I tried to get control of my shaking.

  When he put the car in gear, I realized I could breathe again. “Home in two minutes, ma’am,” he said as he expertly maneuvered the car around the muddy corners and curves.

  Damn him
. I could handle the indifference, I could handle the sarcasm, I could even handle the teasing. What I couldn’t handle was his tender concern. Damn him.

  “If you’ll just let me off at the end of the drive, I can make it from there.”

  Ignoring me, he continued down the long driveway. Without a word, he parked the car in front of the house and leaned into the back to get my camera equipment. He opened my car door, held out his hand and said, “Give me the key.”

  Not about to argue, I stepped out and dug into my encrusted jean pocket. My hands were still shaking as I handed it to him. Feeling like a child, I followed his strides that were so much longer than mine, up the stone path to the side door. By the time I entered the house, the hot shower was already running in the guest room bath.

  “Get out of your clothes immediately and get into the shower.”

  “Yeah, right,” I said under my breath, realizing my lips were not moving very well at this point.

  He stopped in his tracks and glared at me. It was immediately obvious which one of us would win this argument. He wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer.

  “I’ll get you some dry clothes. I’ll leave them just inside the door. You better be under the steaming water by the time I get back or I’ll put you in there myself.”

  As the warm water sluiced over my freezing body, the thought of him carrying me to the shower made me shiver in a totally different way. Feeling began coming back to my body, and what parts the water wasn’t warming, my thoughts were taking care of the rest.

  The door opened a few minutes later. As he put fresh clothes on the counter, our eyes met in the mirror. If it was possible to be frozen in a hot stream of water, I was. He broke eye contact and closed the door softly behind him as he left. The spell was broken, but I was sure I would never be the same.

  The smell of bacon warred with the soft scent of lotion as I applied it to most of my body. But imagining HIS hands on those parts was enough to have me finishing the task quickly. I rushed to get my clothes on. I would not allow myself to be vulnerable.

  Long past being susceptible like an infatuated teenager, I kept wondering what was wrong with me. Morning coffee and toast had worn off several hours earlier, and the smells emanating from the kitchen had my stomach rumbling.

  “I won’t say anything about making yourself at home,” I said, trying not to sound ungrateful.

  “I know my way around this kitchen. Thought you might be hungry,” he said quietly over his shoulder. He had taken his coat off and rolled up his sleeves.

  It was strange to think he could be so thoughtful. Rugged, hard, obviously capable, it was even stranger to think he had spent time in this kitchen with my father. It had never been discussed, but it was a mental shift thinking they might actually have a relationship.

  “So you’re friends with my Dad?” I was definitely curious.

  He hesitated before answering. “We’ve spent a few hours together,” he said non-committally. “Anytime you get people together in a town like this, everyone tends to know everyone else.”

  Any further questions I might have would be saved for a time when I could ask my dad directly. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know that my father and this man to whom I was so violently attracted might be more than passing acquaintances.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  No matter how many times Angie brought up the name of her brother-in-law, there was nothing that would induce me to change my mind about going out with him. I couldn’t stand him, and that became more pronounced over time. He, unfortunately, had other ideas.

  Nothing seemed to convince Angie to back off. No words seemed to be strong enough. It didn’t make sense. Angie KNEW me. She KNEW I was not coy or evasive. She had always told me that one of the things she loved most about me was that I always tell it like it is, so telling her how much I disliked Jason should have come as no surprise to her that I meant what I said.

  She kept throwing him at me, kept encouraging him to pursue me. She never heard a word, the primary one being “NO.” He certainly never heard me. The more I said “NO,” the more he thought I was playing hard to get.

  There was never a time I wasn’t brutally honest with him. It even became a game to see how truly mean I could be, but nothing made him go away. Over and over I would tell him I didn’t like him, that I didn’t want to see him, that I wanted him to stop calling, to stop showing up unannounced, to just STOP.

  A narcissist with anger issues, I came to understand he was a moral sociopath. Over time I thought of him as a terrorist who had focused, not on a group, but on me. I often thought I was losing my mind. All of the things that happened that I KNEW had happened but I wasn’t SURE had happened and I couldn’t prove to anyone that they HAD happened. It was insanity, and sometimes I wondered if it was ME that was crazy.

  Several times I came home and something had been out of place. Not enough to be positive it was different, but enough that I questioned myself. The day I came home and found all of my underwear folded perfectly in the drawer in color order, I knew without a doubt I wasn’t crazy. When I saw a pair of panties and a matching bra laid out neatly on my bed, I called a locksmith and had the locks changed.

  It made me sick to my stomach the next day when I received flowers at work, and the middle one was dead. The apology card attached told me how sorry he was if he had frightened me. I threw them in the garbage, but not before taking a picture.

  I blocked his number when he started faxing me apologies. That pissed him off, so he mailed me daily notes. Sometimes I would receive ten in a day. Never anything outright threatening, but always enough to make my skin crawl.

  After a few days, I stopped reading them because I knew he wasn’t going to incriminate himself, but I kept them all in a file box. Just the sheer volume of them was enough to be a disturbance.

  ~~~

  I loved that time in the morning between my brain waking up and my body following suit, what I thought of as my ‘twilight’ time. I loved lying in bed thinking about the day ahead of me, contemplated the issues of life, or remembering good things. Today, the thought that encouraged me was this amazing place my dad had built. It was the most welcoming structure I had ever experienced.

  This morning I awoke restless. Jack had spent the night with me – in my head. Rather than relaxing, I would head to the Amber Rose and talk to Sam. Listen to some stories, get out and take pictures. Anything to get away from the intimacy Jack had woven yesterday when he had taken such good care of me, fed me, lit a fire, wrapped me in a blanket on the couch, done the dishes, and then slipped away when I had dozed off.

  Slipping through the back door of the Amber Rose, I was surprised to see Jack leaning against the counter talking to Sam as I came through the kitchen. Gone was the intimate stranger who had cooked for me yesterday. Here was the Jack that was all too familiar— eyes as cold as midnight, no facial reaction, apparent indifference.

  Sam turned when he saw Jack’s expression and grinned ear to ear as he placed a bristly kiss on my cheek.

  “I was wonderin’ when ya’d get yerself down here ta see ol’ Sam.”

  As I turned my gaze to give Jack a pleasant greeting, he was already throwing money on the counter and turning to leave. “Catch you later, Sam,” he said as the bell jangled.

  I was stung by his reaction. Solicitous yesterday, the indifferent stranger again today.

  “Ya sure do seem ta rile him up,” Sam chuckled as he pulled out a mug and a pot of coffee. “Love seein’ ol’ Jack Franklin ruffled by a little slip a thing.”

  Ringing again when one of the locals came in, Sam introduced me to Griz and we exchanged pleasantries. “Ah, you must be the Bella Roja that has been causing such a ruckus around town,” Griz said. “I need to ask your advice about something, Sam. I’ll come back when you’re alone.”

  “No problem at all,” I offered. “I haven’t read the morning paper yet, so I’ll just sit over here and let you two talk business.”

  Ten min
utes later I interrupted softy, “I’m sorry. It was hard not to overhear your conversation.” Sam got a small smile as I apologized again. “I happen to have some knowledge of how to fix your problem,” I offered.

  Griz looked at me somewhat dismissively until Sam explained that I was Charles Weston’s daughter. Griz’s whole attitude changed. “Maybe you’re not so much of a flatlander after all.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your aunt’s passing,” I said. “If you truly don’t ever want to live in the house she left you, and you don’t want to make the trip to Montana to take care of the details, I have a friend who is an agent up there and can handle all of the particulars for you. She can take care of the Title transfer into your name, get the house ready for putting it on the market, take care of the showings, and transfer the money into your bank account when it’s sold.”

  “That would be very helpful, ma’am. I’m just not able to make the trip, and I had no idea where to begin to try to figure it out.”

  “Everything can be handled electronically these days, and I would be more than happy to take care of your end of things down here. It’s no trouble at all. I do this kind of thing every day.”

  After getting his details, I made a few phone calls. I put him in touch with the right people. I contacted Marge and made sure she would follow up with him. While the sun was high and the air had some warmth left in it, I headed out to explore.

  “Can’t thank you enough, Miss. I’m beholden to you. You ever need anything, you come find Griz. I won’t forget.”

  “Glad I could help, Griz. Think nothing of it. No trouble at all.”

  When I got home that afternoon, Jack’s car was in the driveway, but he wasn’t in it. Feeling foolish as my heart raced, I came in the front door and stopped as I saw Jack looking out over the reservoir.