9 - Melissa

9

Melissa

I was buzzing with excitement while I finished my lunch.

I had a date? With the super-hot doctor guy who looked like Owen Wilson? I hadn’t expected that to happen on my Colorado hike.

But there was definitely chemistry between us.

At first I thought it was just the kind of guy he was, friendly to everyone he met. Especially when multiple people called out and waved to him around town. Surely the attention I was receiving from him was the same kind he gave everyone in this quiet little mountain town.

Nope. He was into me. And I was extremely into him. It had nothing to do with him being a doctor, either—I would’ve batted my eyelashes at him if he dug ditches for a living. But the fact that he was a doctor bumped him up from a nine to a ten .

Now I had to find a way to kill time until tomorrow night.

I got another refill of coffee, finished my meal, and then got up from the booth. My ankle throbbed with pain after sitting so long. Noah was right: I should’ve stayed off it. But I still wanted to see more of the town. Maybe if I went slowly, and took lots of breaks, it would be okay.

The kitchen diner was open for everyone to see, and on the way outside I did a double-take. Standing over a flat-top, flipping a fried egg, was the huge guy who had helped Jack bring me down out of the mountains. Ash. He was wearing a long white apron, but the tattoos covering his enormous arms were unmistakable. So was the dangerous expression on his face while he focused on cooking. He looked like the kind of guy who would snap if you looked at him the wrong way.

Suddenly, he glanced up and our gazes collided. I felt myself freeze, like a deer that had been spotted by a predator. How long had I been staring at him?

Ash gave me the tiniest nod, then placed a plate of food onto the receiving counter and rang a bell. That sound knocked me out of my paralysis, and I hurried—as much as I could hurry on my ankle—out of the diner.

I shivered when I was outside, despite the warm sun. That man was hot, but also absolutely terrifying. I didn’t actually feel like I was in danger, but it was a huge relief to put a few walls between us.

I soon forgot all about Ash’s intimidating appearance as I walked up the curb along Main Street. I popped into a hat store and tried on a few trucker hats, which had become the style out here in the mountains. There was a store with leather goods, including the most amazing backpack I had ever seen. I hurried out of the store and into the next one, which sold ice cream. Don’t mind if I do.

The crowds picked up in the afternoon. There was a steady stream of pedestrians on the sidewalk, and even more bicycles than before cruising up and down the street. When my ankle became sore, I sat down and people-watched for a little while. Everyone seemed so happy and pleasant. And why not? It was a sunny day with zero humidity.

I liked this town. If I had to get stuck somewhere while my ankle healed, I’m glad it was Crested Butte.

I ate dinner at a cute little Mexican restaurant, then mulled my options. My original intention was to walk home, but I didn’t want to make Noah upset. Especially since we had a date tomorrow. So I swallowed my pride and called the number on the card Noah had given me.

“Hi Melissa! Noah said you would call for a ride. Do you care if it’s me or someone else?”

“I’ll take a ride from anyone except Jack,” I replied.

Theresa chuckled. “Don’t worry. Noah told me you don’t like him.”

“It’s not that I don’t like him…” I protested. But I couldn’t think of an excuse. “It’s just that, uh, he’s already helped me out enough, you know?”

“Of course! I’ll whip up a ride for you real quick. Just hang out in front of Marlene’s and someone will pick you up in a few.”

I walked the three blocks back to Marlene’s and sat down on a bench outside. Even that short trek made my ankle throb worse than before. As much as I hated admitting it, calling Theresa was the right thing to do.

A few minutes later, a rusted pick-up truck came rumbling up the main street. There was something familiar about the silhouette behind the wheel, but I couldn’t quite place them until they pulled up in front of where I was sitting.

My breath caught in my throat. It was Ash. The passenger window was rolled down, and he leaned toward me.

“Ride?” he asked.

“No thanks,” I said politely. “I’m waiting for someone.”

Ash’s gaze bore into my soul, hard and unwavering. “No,” he said in a voice like a rockslide. “Theresa called me.”

Oh . He was my ride. And that was the most I had ever heard him speak before. His voice was like a deep caress, a sexy shiver along my bones. The way my body was reacting to him was in complete contrast to my brain screaming not to get in the truck with him.

But Noah trusted Theresa, and Theresa trusted Ash enough to call me.

Knowing that my cheeks were red with embarrassment, I opened the truck and hopped inside. Ash gripped the top of the wheel with a thick fist, which made the muscles in his arm stand out along with the ink from the tattoos.

As he drove me home, I searched my brain for something to say. A topic of conversation.

“Did you make my sandwich?” I finally blurted out.

He glanced over at me. “Sandwich?”

“The sandwich at Marlene’s. Chicken salad. It was really good. I didn’t know you were a line cook, so I wondered if maybe you were the one who made it.”

I was rambling. Why was I rambling? This guy’s entire aura had me on edge.

“Maybe,” was all he said.

I breathed a sigh of relief when we arrived at the cabins. I hopped out of the truck, and to my surprise, so did Ash. I froze as he came around the back, then pulled something out of the bed of the truck. A mountain bike.

He placed it on the ground and then pushed it toward me.

“What’s this for?” I asked.

“To move around town,” he rumbled, eyes shining.

“I don’t need…”

“Noah asked,” Ash cut in, voice soft and yet commanding. “Better for your ankle.” He shoved the bike another inch closer, impatient for me to take it. So I did.

He nodded, then got back in the truck and drove away.

Chuckling to myself, I began rolling the bike across the campsite to my cabin. I’d had some interesting interactions with men today.

And the day’s not over , I thought while walking past the main campsite cabin. Jack was sitting on the porch, his feet propped up on the railing and a bottle of Jim Beam on the table next to him. Two cats were lounging on the porch, a pair of tabbies, while two cats with darker coloring sat in the bushes down below. Jack’s eyes locked onto me when I came into view.

I should have walked on by, but I was in a weird mood after spending the day in town. I was more confident in myself. And the devil on my shoulder was insisting that I scratch this itch.

“You’ve got a lot of cats,” I said, resting the bike against the fence and climbing the porch like I’d been invited.

“They aren’t mine,” Jack growled, as if I had insulted him.

“Then why are they all around you?”

Jack’s eyes followed me as I sat in the open chair. “You try telling a cat what to do.”

I chuckled, then grabbed the bottle of liquor. The cap was off, and there weren’t any glasses, so I raised the bottle to my lips and took a very long pull.

Jack watched the entire thing silently, frozen in place except for his eyes following the bottle. As soon as I put it back down, he said, “Sorry for calling you a bitch at the clinic.”

The change of subject caught me off guard. “I think you called me an asshole.”

“Yeah,” Jack admitted, “but I was thinking bitch. I just didn’t want to say it out loud.”

“Congrats on the self-restraint.”

“Thanks,” he replied, as if my comment wasn’t sarcasm.

Feeling an opening, I said, “At the clinic… You were right. I was kind of being a bitch. I’d had a bad day. Sorry.”

Jack’s head swiveled so he could look directly at me. “That sounds like an apology.”

“If you make a big deal about it, I’ll take it back,” I warned.

He shrugged and raised the bottle. “Cheers. To the two of us acting like adults.”

“Emphasis on acting ,” I replied, accepting the bottle from him so I could take my own sip.

“I’ve had a rough year,” Jack said.

“Tell me about it,” I murmured.

“My fiancée cheated on me last year.” He stared off at a campfire burning one site over. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure if you were asking rhetorically or genuinely.”

Everything that had pissed me off about this guy was now illuminated in a totally different context. The short conversations. His annoyed attitude. The way he rolled his eyes and bluntly told me that I needed his help or I would freeze on the path.

He was hurting, and trying his best to cover it up. Just like I’d been doing this past month.

“It was rhetorical. But too late to take it back now.” I softened my tone. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”

“Me too. I’ve been lashing out at everyone since it happened, even my friends.” He laughed bitterly. “I wonder how much of my bullshit they’ll tolerate before they leave me, too.”

I stared at Jack with new eyes. Why was he telling me this?

“That’s very self-aware of you,” I said carefully.

He hefted the bottle of Jim Beam. “That’s Jimmy. He makes me introspective.” Using the same hand that was holding the bottle, he pointed his index finger at me. “This is your rare glimpse of honesty from me. Help me remember in the morning, when I’m sober?”

I yanked the bottle from him, took another sip, and slammed it down on the table. “You’ve got a deal. Though I doubt you’ll want to hear it.”

“That’s why I asked someone like you to tell me.”

“A stranger?”

“A bitch,” he replied with a toothy grin. “I know I can trust you to bluntly tell me what I need to hear.”

One of the cats jumped up onto the railing next to Jack’s feet. It swished its tail angrily.

“Fuck off, Joline. Jealous girl.”

The cat hissed at me, then looked expectantly at Jack again.

“Looks like that’s my cue to leave,” I said, rising on my unsteady ankle. I carefully walked down the porch steps and took the bike from where I had rested it.

Suddenly, Jack lowered his feet from the railing and stood up. “Where’d you get that bike?”

“Ash gave it to me.”

“He gave you…” Jack trailed off in a fit of laughter, growing in intensity until he was doubled over the railing.

“What’s so funny I demanded?”

“Jack sat back down and propped his feet up again. “You wouldn’t get the joke.”

His laughter followed me all the way to my cabin.