Read Her Mountain Man Online

Authors: Cindi Myers

Tags: #Hometown USA

Her Mountain Man (15 page)

S
IERRA DEPOSITED
her notebook and files on the desk next to her laptop, then dug her bathing suit from her suitcase. She debated taking another shower, but settled for changing clothes and brushing her hair. The longer she stayed in this room, the easier it would be to hide here from Paul for the rest of her stay.
That was the coward’s way out, and she definitely wasn’t a coward. Whatever she was feeling for Paul, it obviously wasn’t love. Love was a pleasant emotion. Euphoric, even. People crossed continents, risked their safety, even turned their backs on everything they knew for the sake of love, so it couldn’t be like this.

Being with Paul made her confused and angry and even afraid. She couldn’t think straight when she was with him, and the sooner she got away from him, the better off she’d be.

But the thought of leaving him made her want to cry—and she never cried. It also made her want to scream, and she wasn’t much of a screamer, either. She was tempted to call the airport and change her reservations so that she could leave today and pretend that none of this had ever happened.

But running away wouldn’t help her figure out why Paul made her feel this way. And it certainly wouldn’t get her article written. If her father could conquer remote, dangerous mountains year after year, she could face down one smiling mountain climber and live to tell the tale.

Downstairs, she found Paul leaning against the bar, eating the most enormous breakfast burrito she’d ever seen. While she’d been so nervous and upset this morning she’d barely been able to eat a piece of toast, his appetite obviously hadn’t suffered at all. The sight of him devouring the burrito annoyed her. Why did he have to be such a…such a
guy?

“I’m ready to go,” she said.

“Gmmmph.”
He nodded and shoved the last of the burrito into his mouth and followed it up with a gulp of coffee. “Okay,” he said.

He sauntered past her to the front door, the picture of a man without a care in the world. She was dying inside, but he didn’t even notice. A man who had feelings for her—a man who loved her—would notice, wouldn’t he?

He held the door for her and she marched past, eyes forward, determined not to betray her feelings. Last night had been beautiful and tender, but obviously those feelings had passed. She and Paul would never be a couple and she’d been crazy to entertain the idea for even a moment. All she had to do now was get through the next two days without letting him know she’d been so delusional.

M
IST HUNG IN A GAUZY VEIL
over the water of Ouray Hot Springs, obscuring vision and muffling sound so that people spoke and moved as if in a dream. Paul eased into the pool, exhaling as the hot water enveloped him. He settled on a ledge and waited for Sierra.
He’d been ready to climb the stairs to her room and demand an explanation for the long delay—and for her sudden coolness toward him—when she’d finally descended the stairs. She’d had nothing to say until he’d parked the Jeep in the parking lot of the hot springs and they’d agreed to meet in the pool outside the bathhouse.

He’d been tempted to ask her to confide in him and tell him what was wrong, but he’d kept his emotions in check and played it cool. If she had anything to say to him, he’d wait her out. He believed in the old saying that it was better to keep his mouth shut and be thought a fool than to speak up and remove all doubt.

A smudge of red caught his attention. He tensed as Sierra emerged from the mist, a red bikini hugging her curves, her hair piled loosely atop her head. She spotted him and waved, her expression solemn, then lowered herself into the pool.

“This water is hot,” she said when she reached his side.

“A hundred and six degrees. We can move to a cooler part of the pool if you like.”

“No, it feels good.” She lowered herself to the ledge beside him and sighed. “It feels wonderful. I’ve never been anywhere like this.”

“Uncompahgre, the peak we climbed yesterday, is the Ute word for hot-water springs,” he said. “It’s what they called this whole area. The Utes were coming here to soak in the springs a long time before white men even knew they existed.”

“It’s a pretty incredible place,” she said.

You’re an incredible person, and you make me feel incredible things.
But he couldn’t say the words out loud. Not yet.

She closed her eyes and he could feel the tension leave her, and he began to relax, too. Maybe now, while they were both more at ease, was a good time to clear the air between them. “I know some of what I had to say last night was hard for you to hear,” he said. “Are you okay with that? Do you have any more questions—about your dad and what happened?”

“None that you can answer.”

He imagined some of those unanswerable questions: Why did Victor Winston leave his family? Why did he have to die, alone on that mountain?

He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Her eyes snapped open. “You didn’t hurt me,” she said. “My father is the one responsible, but it all happened a long time ago. There’s no sense continuing to rehash it now.”

He may not have been the direct cause of her pain, but by bringing Victor’s body down off that mountain, he’d opened the wound again. He regretted her suffering and his part in it. But better to change the subject.

“How’s the story coming?” They’d covered a lot of ground in the interviews, but had she learned all she wanted to know about him?

“I think it’s going well. I may write a sidebar about our climb yesterday—the famous mountaineer’s daughter conquers her first peak.”

“You did great,” he said. “I don’t know if I told you that.”
You
are
great.

“Thanks. It was a good feeling, getting to the top.”

“Then you understand a little of the thrill of reaching a high summit.”

“I’ll never understand why someone would risk his life to do such a thing,” she said.

No, she wouldn’t. Only someone infected with the mountaineering bug would. “I guess some of us are driven to take such risks,” he said. “Whether that’s positive or negative is a matter of perspective. From my point of view, you take a bigger risk living in a big city like New York.”

She laughed. “I’m not going to fall off a cliff or freeze to death in Manhattan.”

“No, but you could be run over by a taxi, or killed by a human predator.” He sank lower in the water, letting the soothing heat flow over his shoulders. “We all have different ideas of what poses a threat,” he said. “I’m not deliberately courting death up there on the mountain. I know the risks and try to prepare for them.”

“Where is my notebook when I need it?”

“I’ll repeat the quote for you anytime you like.” But her comment stung him. Did she only see him as the subject of her interview? As an assignment, a job? After last night, did she still not think of him as a man? One who cared for her very much?

She trailed her hands through the water. “Tell me more about the springs,” she said.

“Are you thinking of putting them in your article?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll write a travel piece about the wonders of Ouray.”

“The town and the county are named after Chief Ouray, the Ute chief who signed the treaty that signed over the San Juans to white settlers. This pool area was built in the twenties.”

“I can see why the town wanted to capitalize on such a resource.”

“There’s another hot springs over toward Ridgway, and undeveloped springs along the river. There are some fabulous trails I’d love to show you, and you haven’t even seen Silverton yet, or the narrow gauge train.” He had so much he wanted to share with her.

“I never realized there would be so much to see and do in such a small place,” she said.

“You should think about staying here for a while. Maybe use up some vacation. Or…” He hesitated.

“Or what?”

He wished the mist didn’t obscure her expression. Was she open to what he was suggesting at all, or did she think he was nuts? “I’d like it if you stayed longer,” he said.

“I have a job,” she said. “An apartment.”

Details. His heart lifted. She hadn’t said no. “You’re a writer. Writers can work anywhere. And I’ll bet even in this economy, apartments in Manhattan are in demand. You could sublet your place.”

“And live in the Western Hotel? No, thank you.”

“You could move in with me.”

There. He’d said it. This was as close as he could bring himself to begging her not to go.

He’d heard of loud silence before and had never known what the expression meant, but now, it became all too clear. His ears rang with the silent shouts of the voice in his head that screamed at him to take the words back.

“You’re not serious,” she said at last.

“Why not? We get along great together.” On the surface, maybe asking her to move in with him was a rash suggestion, but doing so had given him the same giddy rush he got summiting a mountain—the same hyperaware feeling of being alive.

“We hardly know each other.”

“You know more about me than any other person alive, and after last night, I think I know you pretty well, too.”

“No. It’s a crazy idea. I can’t believe you’d even ask me.” She moved toward the ladder, as if she intended to leave.

“Wait!” He took her by the wrist, holding her back. “I want to get to know you better, and I can’t do that if you go back to New York.”

“Planes fly in both directions, you know. Why don’t you come to Manhattan?”

He swallowed hard. “Is that an invitation?”

Their gazes locked. He held his breath, hoping the look in his eyes would be enough to sway her.

She turned away. “No, it’s not an invitation. Things would never work out for us.”

“How can you say that? We’re good together.” She made him feel better than he had in years. He didn’t want that good feeling to stop. “You make me think about something besides climbing. No one has ever done that for me before.”

“That’s what you say now, but it wouldn’t last.”

He released her. “Then you won’t stay.”

“I can’t. And you can’t come with me. We’d only make each other miserable.”

“Because I remind you of your father? I’m not him. I won’t hurt you that way.”

“Yes, you will. You won’t mean to, maybe, but one day you’ll go off to Katmandu or Tanzania or Alaska and you won’t come back. I might as well fall for a man with a mistress. I’d still have to share him, but at least he’d have a better chance of staying alive.”

“Don’t leave, Sierra.” Now he
was
begging. Damn pride, anyway. “You’re the only woman I can see myself being happy with,” he said.

“And when I look at you, all I see is the past repeating itself.” She climbed out of the pool and walked away through the mist, never even looking back.

S
IERRA TUGGED JEANS
and a shirt over her still-wet body and hurried from the bathhouse, praying Paul wouldn’t follow her. She didn’t want to make a scene on the streets of his hometown; they’d both be better off if he let her slip away quietly. She’d send him a copy of her article when it was done, along with a polite but impersonal thank-you note, and they could both pretend last night had never happened.
So much for thinking she’d inherited any of her father’s courage.

Apparently, he hadn’t passed on much of his stamina, either. By the time she completed the long hike back to the hotel, she was huffing and puffing and every muscle in her body was protesting. She dragged herself up the stairs to her room. Hadn’t these people heard of elevators?

The neatly made bed tempted her, but she resisted the urge to crawl under the covers. She could sleep the day away and maybe when she woke she’d find this had all been a dream.

But that only happened in bad television shows. Staying in town—even long enough for a nap—would only make her problems worse.

She hauled her suitcase from the closet and began stuffing clothing into it, not bothering to separate dirty from clean. She was on her knees by the bed, reaching for a discarded sock, when a knock on the door made her freeze. She didn’t want to talk to Paul, didn’t want to listen to him try to persuade her to stay.

The knock sounded again. If she pretended she wasn’t here, would he go away?

“Sierra, can I come in?” Kelly called.

Aching muscles protesting, Sierra shoved to her feet and went to the door. A check of the peephole showed Kelly standing by herself in the hallway, fidgeting impatiently.

Sierra opened the door. “What is it?” she asked.

“I really need to talk to you,” Kelly said, and slipped past Sierra into the room. She sat on the edge of the bed, ignoring Sierra’s suitcase. “I may have done something really stupid,” she said.

“What is that?” Sierra asked. She really didn’t have time to listen to Kelly, but she didn’t want to be rude to her, either.

“I went out with Keith last night, to a really nice restaurant in Telluride.” She lifted her chin and tucked her hair behind one ear in an imitation of her usual bravado, but her trembling fingers and pale cheeks betrayed her real distress.

Sierra sat next to her. “What happened?” she asked. Had Keith refused to finance her New York trip?

“It was an amazing evening,” Kelly said. “He…he told me again how much he loved me—that I was the most special woman he’d ever met. And he asked me to marry him.”

Sierra had trouble breathing, remembering the moment when Paul had asked her to move in with him. Not as romantic as a marriage proposal, but every bit as potentially life-changing and unexpected. “What did you say?” she asked. Hearing how Kelly had handled this situation might help her to deal with Paul.

Kelly looked at her, the younger woman’s dark eyes shining with an emotion Sierra couldn’t interpret. “I told him yes,” she whispered.

“Yes?” Sierra pressed her hand—still holding the sock she’d fished from beneath the bed—to her chest. “What about New York? What about your acting career?”

“I know it’s crazy,” Kelly said. “But when he asked me, the yes just popped out. He told me he loved me and wanted to be with me forever, and I couldn’t bear to leave him. No one has ever loved me like that before.”

“Do you love him?” Sierra asked.

Kelly nodded. “I do,” she said. “I really do.” She covered her face with her hands. “What am I going to do?”

“Marriage is a big step,” Sierra said. “You shouldn’t go through with it unless you’re absolutely sure.” Where had that come from? She sounded like someone’s mother, though she was only a few years older than Kelly.

“I know.” Kelly sighed. “I’ve spent years planning my escape to New York. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“Then you should go. You shouldn’t let a man stop you.”

“Yes, but…I really do love him. And leaving him to follow a dream that might not even come true doesn’t seem so great anymore.”

“Then maybe he could go with you,” Sierra said. Though trying to pursue an acting career and handle the demands of a new marriage sounded pretty tough to her; it wasn’t the exciting, carefree adventure Kelly had no doubt dreamed of.

“He might do it,” Kelly said. “But he has a good business here, and a nice home and…well, I love it here, too.”

“Before, you talked like you couldn’t wait to leave.”

“Yes, but…I guess when someone you love is in a place, it helps you see that place in a better light. It really is beautiful here, and I have so many friends. I don’t know anyone in New York.”

“You’d know
me.
” Small comfort, probably. “And you’ll meet new people, make new friends. New York is beautiful, too, in its own way.” She couldn’t believe the driven, ambitious young woman she’d first met in this room was willing to toss all her dreams away for the sake of a ring on her finger.

“What will all those new people matter if I’m missing Keith? I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. What if this is my one chance for true love and I throw it away?”

All the advice she’d ever heard about love filled Sierra’s thoughts: if he really loves you, he’ll wait for you. If you found love once, you’ll find it again. Love that demands sacrifice isn’t real love.

But was any of that advice true? What did she know about building lasting relationships? Her parents’ marriage had ended when she was only ten, and she’d never been involved in a serious relationship herself.

If anything, she’d done everything she could to avoid losing her heart to a man. She’d told herself she was better off living life on her own terms, free from anyone else’s demands. But when she thought of a future spent alone, she felt empty and a little scared. Was that what Kelly was feeling now, too?

“If you stay here with Keith, don’t you think you’ll eventually regret not going to New York and trying to make it as an actress?” Sierra asked.

Kelly plucked at an artfully frayed spot on her jeans. “We talked about that, a little. There are a lot of regional and community theaters. I could audition for more roles in Telluride and Lake City and even Grand Junction. That would be a good way to build a reputation and credits. From there I might move on to Denver. I could pursue my dream and still stay close to home.”

It made good sense. But what was sensible about changing your whole life for the sake of a man?

“You should give yourself more time to think about this,” Sierra said. “You don’t want to rush into anything.”

Kelly nodded. “You’re right. I mean, it’s not like we have to get married tomorrow. And New York will still be there next week or next month or next year if I change my mind.” Her smile turned dreamy. “And Keith will be there, too. That’s a great thought, you know? That he’ll be there for me the rest of my life.”

Sierra felt sick. How could Kelly be so sure Keith would be there for her? Sierra’s mother had counted on Victor Winston to be there for her, and he’d left to climb mountains instead. Then again, Keith was a real-estate developer—not a profession that was particularly dangerous or bordering on obsession. Oh, why couldn’t Sierra have fallen for a real-estate agent, or a plumber, instead of a damn mountain climber?

“Thanks for listening,” Kelly said. “I think just talking to someone has really helped me. I got a little panicky this morning when I woke up and realized what I’d done. It’s a big decision, you know.”

Sierra nodded. She’d experienced the same kind of panic when she woke this morning next to Paul. Too bad talking with Kelly hadn’t clarified things for her any.

Kelly shifted on the bed, bumping into Sierra’s open suitcase. “Hey!” she said. “Are you packing? I thought you weren’t leaving until Monday.”

“Yeah, well, I decided to see if I could get an earlier flight back to New York.” If not, she could always get a hotel room and spend the night in Montrose.

“Why? Did something happen with you and Paul? Did you have a fight?”

Sierra shook her head. “It’s just not going to work for us. I need to get home.”

“But Paul’s crazy about you—crazier than I’ve ever seen him about any woman. I think he’s really in love.”

“He asked me to move in with him.”

“Wow. That’s pretty sudden, isn’t it?”

“Exactly. I’ve only known him a week! He can’t expect me to change my whole life for him—especially when he knows how I feel about what he does for a living.”

Kelly looked thoughtful. “Mountain climbing does take him away a lot.”

“Mountain climbing will get him killed!”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess you’d know about that.” Kelly patted Sierra’s knee. “I’m sorry. Paul really is a great guy.”

“He is. But a relationship with him would be wrong on so many levels.”

“I guess I’m lucky. Real-estate agents tend to stay put and they don’t risk their lives.” She stood. “Is there anything I can do for you before you go?”

“No. But thanks for offering.”

“Take care.” Kelly’s expression brightened. “And who knows—I may see you in New York after all. I’m thinking it would make a great destination for a honeymoon.”

When Kelly was gone, Sierra sank onto the bed. She was still holding the sock—one of the pair of hiking socks Paul had bought for her. He’d been worried she’d get blisters. She’d never met a man who was so thoughtful. So kind and brave. The kind of man it would be easy to fall in love with.

But whatever she was feeling for him, it obviously wasn’t really love. She wasn’t dreamy-eyed like Kelly, and New York didn’t look any less attractive to her because Paul wasn’t there. She couldn’t wait to return to familiar surroundings, where she could think clearly and get back to the life that had seemed perfect before Paul had tried to make her think differently.

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