Page 3
Story: Ferocious Mountain Man
“You’re on my property. I’m not sure what the laws are on it, but I’d say I have a pretty good argument that if it’s on my property, I have the right to dispose of it.”
Now her eyes widened. Her jaw dropped again, those gorgeous lips of hers parting. They looked soft and smooth, and what I wouldn’t give to kiss them right now. Or maybe feel them wrapped around a certain part of my anatomy.
No. I couldn’t go there. I had to keep my testosterone in check. I’d already been falsely accused of being a horn dog. It had gotten me in serious trouble when I was younger. I’d been raised to go after what I wanted, and as a teenager, I learned the hard way that doing that could get me in trouble—even if I was just trying to convince a girl to go out with me, and not even in a way I considered to be harassment. Apparently, the girl disagreed.
I’d moved past all that, though. I’d gone into the military and atoned for any bad I might have done. After discharge, I’d come back to North Carolina but steered clear of my hometown near Raleigh, instead settling into the mountains.
No one here knew me. No one whispered about me when I walked into a restaurant or rushed to cross the street when they saw me coming. In this town, I was a vet who worked as a logger. That was respected.
“I didn’t throw anything away,” I said, putting her out of her misery. “It’s all in my kitchen. I’ll give it back on one condition.”
She looked far less combative now, probably because she was depending on me to get her tent and clothes and toiletries back. I was kind of an ass for holding it all hostage, but in my situation, most people wouldn’t blame me.
“What’s that?” she asked after a long silence in which she probably weighed all her options.
“You get the heck off my property.”
Heck? Hell was what I meant to say, but heck popped out. I couldn’t bring myself to cuss at this woman. She deserved better.
She probably deserved better than me kicking her off my property too, but these women were getting annoying. I’d luckily managed to misdirect them to a campground near a cabin that sat empty right now, but somehow, this particular woman had made her way onto my property.
Was she so determined to meet me that she’d tracked down my true location? No, I had a feeling this woman was not here to meet me—not because she was a fan, anyway. That was clear in the way she was looking at me right now. She was far from intimidated or in awe of me.
This woman was some sort of journalist. Or maybe a social media influencer with great research skills. Either way, she was up to no good, and I was putting an end to it here and now.
“I totally understand kicking someone off your property,” she said with a nod. “That’s legit.”
My frown deepened. This was too easy. She’d agreed I was in the right for taking her stuff, so she’d just leave it with me? No, that wouldn’t happen.
“There’s just one problem with that,” she said. “That isn’t your land, and you have no right to hold my stuff. So if you’ll just return my belongings to me, I won’t make you put everything back like you found it. Or we could call the police and let them sort it out.”
Police? Ha. This town didn’t have a police force, and the sheriff of the next town over wasn’t coming all the way up here over a civil dispute.
But that wasn’t the point. Especially since I was in the right.
“This is my land,” I said. “I bought all of it so I’d have privacy.”
“You might want to check the property deed,” she said. “That patch over there belongs to someone named Rourke Donovan. He even got a permit to build a cabin there. Sounds like you’re going to have a neighbor in a few months.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and smiled, clearly proud of herself. What the fuck was this bombshell of a woman talking about? She was just making stuff up at this point.
But wait. She knew the name of the supposed landowner. A guy who was the closest thing to an enemy I’d ever had. A guy who competed with me for a beautiful tourist at the ski lodge bar when I first came to town—and lost. He’d never gotten over it, even though the tourist left town the next day.
I thought the two-year grudge was ridiculous. But the dude was on my logging crew, so I had to deal with it every day of my life.
And now he’d be my neighbor? That just made no sense.
“So what’s it going to be?” she asked, cutting into my thoughts.
The question reminded me that we were in the middle of another issue. I’d have to iron out the Rourke stuff later.
“It’s inside,” I said, gesturing toward the house. “I’ll go get it.”
“I’ll go with you,” she said.
That froze me, mid-turn. She was going with me?
Oh yeah, it was a lot. I’d gone back and forth four times—first pulling everything out, then breaking down her tent. It would be quicker if both of us carried everything. It would be quicker if I helped her set it all back up too—plus it would be the right thing to do.
Now her eyes widened. Her jaw dropped again, those gorgeous lips of hers parting. They looked soft and smooth, and what I wouldn’t give to kiss them right now. Or maybe feel them wrapped around a certain part of my anatomy.
No. I couldn’t go there. I had to keep my testosterone in check. I’d already been falsely accused of being a horn dog. It had gotten me in serious trouble when I was younger. I’d been raised to go after what I wanted, and as a teenager, I learned the hard way that doing that could get me in trouble—even if I was just trying to convince a girl to go out with me, and not even in a way I considered to be harassment. Apparently, the girl disagreed.
I’d moved past all that, though. I’d gone into the military and atoned for any bad I might have done. After discharge, I’d come back to North Carolina but steered clear of my hometown near Raleigh, instead settling into the mountains.
No one here knew me. No one whispered about me when I walked into a restaurant or rushed to cross the street when they saw me coming. In this town, I was a vet who worked as a logger. That was respected.
“I didn’t throw anything away,” I said, putting her out of her misery. “It’s all in my kitchen. I’ll give it back on one condition.”
She looked far less combative now, probably because she was depending on me to get her tent and clothes and toiletries back. I was kind of an ass for holding it all hostage, but in my situation, most people wouldn’t blame me.
“What’s that?” she asked after a long silence in which she probably weighed all her options.
“You get the heck off my property.”
Heck? Hell was what I meant to say, but heck popped out. I couldn’t bring myself to cuss at this woman. She deserved better.
She probably deserved better than me kicking her off my property too, but these women were getting annoying. I’d luckily managed to misdirect them to a campground near a cabin that sat empty right now, but somehow, this particular woman had made her way onto my property.
Was she so determined to meet me that she’d tracked down my true location? No, I had a feeling this woman was not here to meet me—not because she was a fan, anyway. That was clear in the way she was looking at me right now. She was far from intimidated or in awe of me.
This woman was some sort of journalist. Or maybe a social media influencer with great research skills. Either way, she was up to no good, and I was putting an end to it here and now.
“I totally understand kicking someone off your property,” she said with a nod. “That’s legit.”
My frown deepened. This was too easy. She’d agreed I was in the right for taking her stuff, so she’d just leave it with me? No, that wouldn’t happen.
“There’s just one problem with that,” she said. “That isn’t your land, and you have no right to hold my stuff. So if you’ll just return my belongings to me, I won’t make you put everything back like you found it. Or we could call the police and let them sort it out.”
Police? Ha. This town didn’t have a police force, and the sheriff of the next town over wasn’t coming all the way up here over a civil dispute.
But that wasn’t the point. Especially since I was in the right.
“This is my land,” I said. “I bought all of it so I’d have privacy.”
“You might want to check the property deed,” she said. “That patch over there belongs to someone named Rourke Donovan. He even got a permit to build a cabin there. Sounds like you’re going to have a neighbor in a few months.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and smiled, clearly proud of herself. What the fuck was this bombshell of a woman talking about? She was just making stuff up at this point.
But wait. She knew the name of the supposed landowner. A guy who was the closest thing to an enemy I’d ever had. A guy who competed with me for a beautiful tourist at the ski lodge bar when I first came to town—and lost. He’d never gotten over it, even though the tourist left town the next day.
I thought the two-year grudge was ridiculous. But the dude was on my logging crew, so I had to deal with it every day of my life.
And now he’d be my neighbor? That just made no sense.
“So what’s it going to be?” she asked, cutting into my thoughts.
The question reminded me that we were in the middle of another issue. I’d have to iron out the Rourke stuff later.
“It’s inside,” I said, gesturing toward the house. “I’ll go get it.”
“I’ll go with you,” she said.
That froze me, mid-turn. She was going with me?
Oh yeah, it was a lot. I’d gone back and forth four times—first pulling everything out, then breaking down her tent. It would be quicker if both of us carried everything. It would be quicker if I helped her set it all back up too—plus it would be the right thing to do.