MOUNTAIN MAN
by
H.P. Mallory
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Copyright ©2018 by HP Mallory
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Acknowledgements:
To my editor, Teri, at The Editing Fairy (www.editingfairy.com), thank you for a great job, as always.
To my son, Finn, I love you!
ALSO BY H.P. MALLORY
Paranormal Romance and Fantasy Series:
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The Bryn and Sinjin Series (Spinoff to the Jolie WIlkins Series):
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The Dulcie O'Neil Series:
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A Tale of Two Goblins KINDLE
Great Hexpectations KINDLE
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Malice In Wonderland KINDLE
For Whom The Spell Tolls KINDLE
A Midsummer Night's Scream KINDLE
Grave New World KINDLE
Pride And Poltergeists KINDLE
The Lily Harper Series:
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The Underground City KINDLE
To Hell And Back KINDLE
Persephone KINDLE
Book 5 Coming Soon!
The Peyton Clark Series:
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Once Haunted Twice Shy KINDLE
Brown Eyed Ghoul KINDLE
Co-Authored Series:
The Ice Wolf Series (Co-Authored with JR Rain):
Ice Wolf KINDLE
She Wolf Coming Soon!
Standalone Contemporary Romances:
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Mountain Man KINDLE
About Mountain Man:
WILLIAM:
Angel’s the only one in this town who doesn’t look at me like I’m trash even though I’m sure she’s heard all the rumors. She makes me feel like I’m worth something. She also makes me feel other things—stirrings I haven’t experienced in a long time.
Ever since I spotted her in the bank, every longing I have centers around claiming her in every way. She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. Pure. Innocent. Wholesome. And completely out of my league. I know I’m not good enough for her and I never will be. But I also can’t help wanting her with every fiber of my being.
So when there’s a robbery at the bank and I see the perp putting his hands all over her and the fear in her eyes, you bet it’s gonna go down. My past be damned, I go for my weapon and pray I don’t send a bullet into the only person in this town I care about…
MOUNTAIN MAN
Chapter One
Janet
Maybe it was a bad idea coming to this run-down hole-in-the-wall town in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t even have any of that small-town charm. It was just small. When they depicted places like this in the movies, they always made these little towns seem quaint and homey. Like the kind of place you wished you could live in where everyone knew you and called you by your name, and kids rode bikes down the street, and no one worried about anything.
Well, that’s what it had looked like in my head when I’d first heard the name, Marshall Heights. Now that I was actually here, I wanted nothing more than to get out and head back to civilization. But I had to remind myself that this was my new life; this was what was good for me. I was trying to get my life back in order, and I hoped this town would offer me the fresh start that I needed. Yes, I was going country and all that shit, hoping to find myself, hoping to escape my past. Well, hoping to escape my past by finding someone from my past, someone who could make everything good again.
I reached across and flicked the ashes from my cigarette onto a stray piece of newspaper I’d found wadded up on the sidewalk outside. Now I sat in this old, musty room with my Louboutins propped up on the coffee table and a cigarette dangling from my lips. I inhaled and let a huge ring of smoke encircled around me. As it drifted away, I regarded the room around me with barely concealed distaste.
It wasn’t a dirty room; it was just that everything in it looked old and unfashionable from the eyelet curtains to the shaggy carpet to the seventies-ish furniture. None of this was mine. It was a furnished apartment on the far east end of town that I’d been renting for the last two weeks.
I scratched my head as I spotted the dishes overflowing in the sink, and the beer bottles strewn all over the apartment floor. I’d nearly tripped over one this morning. Of course, I had no one to blame but myself since it wasn’t like anyone was living with me. I had myself to blame for my own mess. But I let out a stream of curse words anyway, as if somebody would come hurrying to my rescue, as if someone would tell me what I already knew—that Janet Billings did not belong in this hideous little room in this hideous little town.
No one did come to my rescue of course, but it was nice to imagine that in another life, someone would’ve. In my old life, someone would have…he would have.
I wrinkled my nose in disgust as a putrid smell hit my nostrils, and I realized it was probably the trash that I’d neglected to take out. Trash that was, even now, piling up into a pyramid beside my kitchen island. Yet another item on the to-do list. And, knowing myself, another item that wouldn’t get done.
I stood up abruptly as I realized that I’d better get to work otherwise my boss would fire me, and I couldn’t afford to lose this job. Not when I’d worked so hard to get it. As much as I hated working and had never lifted a finger in my previous life, that wasn’t my reality anymore. Now I was a woman who had to fend for herself. I was out of money and out of options. Hence why I was here.
My life might’ve been a mess right now, but hopefully soon, if everything went according to plan, it would be back on track. So I had to suck it up in the here and now if it meant I would get what I wanted in the near future. And I would get what I wanted because I was used to getting what I wanted. Why would now prove any different?
Smiling to myself, I stubbed out the cigarette in the kitchen sink before I washed my hands and headed into my tiny bedroom which was more like the size of a closet. I picked up a shirt off the floor, sniffed it and deemed it presentable enough to wear to the hair salon. I gave my jeans a cursory glance and after checking out my ass this way and that in the mirror behind the door, I grabbed my purse. I stopped to spray some of my Bottega Veneta perfume on, and I was out the door.
******
I smacked my bubblegum loudly as I snaked through the people littering the sidewalk, taking care not to come into contact with anybody. They all gawked at me with open mouths and curious eyes, but I wasn’t surprised. I was new here, and I didn’t exactly fit in with my Dolce jeans, my Kate Spade purse, and my Chanel sunglasses. These small-town people were friendly enough, but I liked my personal space, and I didn’t want to be bothered with the inconsequential lives of everyone in this inconsequential town. Instead, I was focused entirely on my goal.
“Never take your eyes off the prize, Janet,” my moth
er always told me. “If you do, you’ll get left behind.”
It was a tough lesson, but it had served me well. Keeping my eyes on the prize had helped me get everything I had in my life—a prosperous husband (well, ex-husband now), an affluent lifestyle, a child... Of course that was in the past, a life that felt hundreds of miles away from the one I was living now. But it was a life I would find my way back to someday. Of that, I was certain. Because if I was nothing else, I was determined and steadfast. Some people even said I was ruthless and manipulative.
But I paid them no mind. Why should I care about the opinions of people who had no influence on my achievements? Life was a matter of eat or get eaten. And I believed solely in Darwinism—that the weak would eventually get phased out, overtaken by the strong. And if I was anything, it was strong.
My mouth curled in disgust as I spotted an old and arthritic-looking sheepdog who was wagging its tail at strangers who stopped to pet it. When the dog looked up at me, its tongue hanging out of its mouth as it panted, I simply ignored it and went on my way. I never understood the whole “man’s best friend” bit. Dirty, slobbering, shedding and flea-infested creatures, they were disgusting. Especially when they licked their genitals and then tried to lick your face.
Ugh.
*****
“Janet.” Sandy frowned as she checked her watch and then looked back up at me with impatience in her expression. “You’re late.”
“I know. I’m sorry, I took a wrong turn and got lost. I’m terrible without GPS,” I offered as I gave her my best apologetic smile. I couldn’t tell her the real reason I was late was that I was having a hard time motivating because I just didn’t want to be here. Somehow I didn’t think that would go over well. And I was working the afternoon shift on top of it, so I couldn’t blame my tardiness on sleeping in.
Sandy gave me a reassuring smile as she squeezed my shoulder. “That’s okay, honey. It’s your first week, so I get it. Just try harder next time, okay?”
Sandy Hayes was a pushover and then some.
With her big bangle earrings, her too-short bangs, her bright colors, and her new age bullshit, she reminded me of those people who claimed to be gifted but were really just trying to hustle you. After I got to know her, though, I was amazed to find out that she really believed in all the crap she preached.
Yet, I was also grateful to her. She was, after all, the only person who would hire me when I had no recent work experience to rely on nor any references to vouch for me. I was basically a blank slate, and Sandy had been nice enough or stupid enough to take me under her wing.
“There’s a customer over there who needs a shampoo, rinse, and blow-dry; do you think you could take care of it?” Sandy nodded towards a middle-aged, fat, and pockmarked woman who was waiting patiently while flipping through a magazine. I wanted to tell her that it didn’t matter what we did to her hair, that she’d still be completely unattractive, but I bit my tongue. The last thing I needed was to get fired.
I was definitely not used to waiting on people, but I was prepared to rough it if I was going to get my way in the end. And I was determined to get my way.
“Right this way, please.” I gestured at the middle-aged woman, and she followed me quietly to the chair. Once she sat down, I tilted her head back and began to methodically wash her hair with the no-name shampoo. At least it smelled good.
At the thought that the shampoo smelled good, I felt a plume of anger suddenly bubble up inside me. What the hell was I doing washing some middle-aged woman’s hair? I had led a life of privilege, of having other women wash my own hair! I missed the glitz, the glam, the parties, and the titillating conversation of my old life. And I missed the men who were always so handsome and smooth. Truth be told, I more missed the sex. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had sex. Well, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had good sex.
And now look where I was?
It was demeaning, humiliating.
I had no way of knowing back then that one little mistake would end up causing my life to spiral out of control. That one little mistake would make everything come crashing down around me, and I’d end up… here.
After I was done conditioning the woman’s hair, I towel-dried it and then bent over to plug in the blow dryer. I carefully smoothed out her hair and began to work it into something stylish which was slow going considering the awful state her hair was in.
“There he goes again,” Sandy commented as she stared out the window, clearly studying someone. She tossed her orange hair behind her back and grimaced as I caught sight of a large, older-model Ford F250 parking in front of the grocery store across the street from us. As I watched, the driver’s door opened, and he stepped out. “He is a mystery, that one.”
I pretended I didn’t know who she was talking about, but of course I knew. I’d only been in Marshall Heights for two weeks, and I’d already heard the rumors about William Black. Everyone in this town knew about him, and they wouldn’t shut up about him either.
“Who are you talking about?” I feigned indifference as I nodded in satisfaction and swiveled the chair around so it was facing one of the three mirrors on the wall. The woman admired her reflection as I wondered if we were looking at the same reflection. It sort of looked like she’d stuck her finger into a socket, but she smiled appreciatively so I figured I’d done a good enough job.
“William Black,” Sandy answered, matter-of-factly. “Marshall Heights’ very own mountain man.” She sighed, like he was some misunderstood superhero. “Coming down off the mountain to do his grocery shopping and go to the bank just like he does twice a month.”
“Does he ever come in here?” I asked, suddenly nervous that he might. The last thing I needed was for him to see me. I wasn’t ready for that yet.
Sandy looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Him? Come in here? Not on your life. A man like William Black wouldn’t go to a woman’s salon for a haircut.”
Thank God. That was exactly the reason why I’d tried to get a job at Sandy’s—because I’d figured it would be a safe way to keep an eye on William without him getting any sort of indication that I was in Marshall Heights. Because at the point that William did realize I was here, he wasn’t going to be happy.
“I feel for him,” Sandy said as she shook her head.
“Why?” I asked, legitimately interested.
“Because all he’s ever known of this town is people staring at him and whispering behind his back. Just must get old after a while,” Sandy finished as if she knew what that felt like. Actually, given how bizarre she was, she probably did.
“Why do people whisper about him?” I busied myself with cleaning up my station while I darted glances out the window every so often.
William had already walked into the grocery store, and now I was waiting to catch a glimpse of him coming back out.
“I’m not one to indulge gossip,” Sandy said as she eyed me narrowly. I almost wanted to laugh, because even though I hadn’t been in Marshall Heights long, it had been long enough that I’d learned Sandy was about as big a gossip as they came. “But I can tell you what everyone else says.”
I shrugged as if it didn’t matter to me one way or another, but it did. It definitely did, because I wanted to find out as much as I could about William Black and what he’d been up to since the last time I’d seen him. “You can if you want to.”
“Well, rumor has it that he used to live in Las Vegas as a cop and he killed his partner.”
I grimaced, although it was a true enough account. But, in this case, it was the specifics that were the most important. “Wow. What happened? Why isn’t he in jail serving time?”
“Eventually he was cleared of all charges,” Sandy answered with a shrug.
“So, why is everyone still whispering about him if the charges were dropped?”
“You know how narrow-minded people can be. The minute they get a whiff of a scandal, the person is immediately found guilty in the eyes of the public.
”
I made a noise in the back of my throat.
I glanced out the window again and watched as William emerged from the grocery store with numerous brown paper bags that he piled between both of his burly arms.He took the two flights of stairs that led up to the street where he’d parked his truck. Why he didn’t just park in the store parking lot and use a cart to unload his groceries into his truck was beyond me. Actually, it wasn’t that much of a surprise. William had always made things more difficult on himself than he needed to. Some things clearly hadn’t changed.
From this vantage point, he didn’t look like a criminal. Just a large and unkempt man who happened to be sexy as hell. Yes, I would have William again. I would make him mine just as easily as I had eight years ago. There was no doubt about that in my mind.
“It hardly seems right to be judged for something you aren’t guilty of,” I said as I saw surprise register on Sandy’s face. She clearly wasn’t expecting compassion and empathy from me. Or maybe it was just that most people who didn’t know the incidentals figured he was guilty. It was definitely a more interesting story if he was guilty of murder and had somehow beaten the system.
Sandy’s eyebrows climbed up to her hairline, and her mouth formed an ‘O’ shape.
Quickly, she shook her head and gave me a puzzled smile. “Yep, but you know how these things go. Once you screw up, real or fictional, you’re going to have a hell of time convincing people that you are still a good person.”
“Has he ever tried defending himself against the rumors?” I asked as my eyes remained glued to where he was standing, and I imagined that beard tickling the sensitive flesh between my legs. Yes, it had been way too long since I’d enjoyed this man. And the truth was that he was the best lover I’d ever had. It almost annoyed me that I’d taken him for granted so long ago. Well, I wouldn’t do that again.