Page 8
Story: Ferocious Mountain Man
“Anyway, I closed my eyes, and I swear I’d just drifted off to sleep when…swish, swish, swish,” Sahara said.
My eyes popped open just in time to catch her looking at the wall. I couldn’t stop staring at her.
“This was moving.” she said, pointing to her right. “When I screamed, it stopped.”
“I’m sure it was just an animal of some kind. Maybe a raccoon or squirrel or something.”
I wasn’t going to let her believe a bear had been messing with her tent, even if that was a firm possibility. She’d probably never sleep outdoors again…or anywhere else.
“I don’t think it’ll hurt you,” I said.
“I shouldn’t have done this,” she whispered. “Any of this. I should be at home. In bed.”
That brought an important question to mind. “Where’s home?”
I didn’t want to think about her regrets. If she’d never come here, she wouldn’t have met me. Correction—Iwouldn’t have mether. She might not be bothered by that thought at all. It didn’t seem like this attraction was one-sided, but it very well could be.
“Savannah,” she said. “Georgia. Born and raised. I’ve never lived anywhere else. I even went to college there.”
“So, you went to school to be a social media influencer?”
Did that sound dismissive of her goal? Maybe she had a full-time job and this was on the side.
“I went to art school.” Then she laughed. “I guess I thought I was going to be the exception to the rule.”
“What rule is that?”
“That you can’t really make a living as an artist. Not in the fine arts, anyway. Most of my friends translated their skills into graphic design—logos for businesses, signs, websites…that sort of thing.”
“And you didn’t?”
She shook her head. “I’m not as good with computers as I should be.” She laughed again. “I guess I’m not really sure what I want to be when I grow up. But for now, I’m doing a lot of freelance stuff.”
That made sense. But I was surprised to find that what I cared about most was that if she was freelance, she could work anywhere. That was what I assumed, anyway.
“Would you ever leave Savannah to live in a beautiful mountain town like this one?”
I flashed an awkward smile at the end of that question. Confusion flickered across her face. It was brief—just a slight lowering of her brows and a downward twitch of her mouth.
“Absolutely,” she said. “Savannah’s beachfront property. It’s beautiful, but not my kind of thing. I’d love to live somewhere scenic like this. It’s just so expensive.”
“Not up here.”
Was this a sales pitch? Why was I trying to convince this woman to move here?
The answer to that was simple, but I didn’t really want to face it. I wanted her here. The thought of her leaving town—today, tomorrow, or any other day after that—filled me with dread. Would I have to go the rest of my life wondering what might’ve happened if only…?
She narrowed her eyes at me. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me to stay in Seduction Summit.”
There was a flirtatiousness in the way she said that, but her words hit close to home. So I asked, “What if I am?”
She just stared at me. No expression. I stared back, not sure what to make of any of this. I wanted to believe she was serious. But what if she was? What was my plan, exactly?
“I’d definitely move for the right guy,” she said. “But it would have to be more than just physical attraction.”
Two could play at this flirtation game. “Are you saying you’re physically attracted to me?”
“I am,” she said. “And that’s weird for me.”
My eyes popped open just in time to catch her looking at the wall. I couldn’t stop staring at her.
“This was moving.” she said, pointing to her right. “When I screamed, it stopped.”
“I’m sure it was just an animal of some kind. Maybe a raccoon or squirrel or something.”
I wasn’t going to let her believe a bear had been messing with her tent, even if that was a firm possibility. She’d probably never sleep outdoors again…or anywhere else.
“I don’t think it’ll hurt you,” I said.
“I shouldn’t have done this,” she whispered. “Any of this. I should be at home. In bed.”
That brought an important question to mind. “Where’s home?”
I didn’t want to think about her regrets. If she’d never come here, she wouldn’t have met me. Correction—Iwouldn’t have mether. She might not be bothered by that thought at all. It didn’t seem like this attraction was one-sided, but it very well could be.
“Savannah,” she said. “Georgia. Born and raised. I’ve never lived anywhere else. I even went to college there.”
“So, you went to school to be a social media influencer?”
Did that sound dismissive of her goal? Maybe she had a full-time job and this was on the side.
“I went to art school.” Then she laughed. “I guess I thought I was going to be the exception to the rule.”
“What rule is that?”
“That you can’t really make a living as an artist. Not in the fine arts, anyway. Most of my friends translated their skills into graphic design—logos for businesses, signs, websites…that sort of thing.”
“And you didn’t?”
She shook her head. “I’m not as good with computers as I should be.” She laughed again. “I guess I’m not really sure what I want to be when I grow up. But for now, I’m doing a lot of freelance stuff.”
That made sense. But I was surprised to find that what I cared about most was that if she was freelance, she could work anywhere. That was what I assumed, anyway.
“Would you ever leave Savannah to live in a beautiful mountain town like this one?”
I flashed an awkward smile at the end of that question. Confusion flickered across her face. It was brief—just a slight lowering of her brows and a downward twitch of her mouth.
“Absolutely,” she said. “Savannah’s beachfront property. It’s beautiful, but not my kind of thing. I’d love to live somewhere scenic like this. It’s just so expensive.”
“Not up here.”
Was this a sales pitch? Why was I trying to convince this woman to move here?
The answer to that was simple, but I didn’t really want to face it. I wanted her here. The thought of her leaving town—today, tomorrow, or any other day after that—filled me with dread. Would I have to go the rest of my life wondering what might’ve happened if only…?
She narrowed her eyes at me. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me to stay in Seduction Summit.”
There was a flirtatiousness in the way she said that, but her words hit close to home. So I asked, “What if I am?”
She just stared at me. No expression. I stared back, not sure what to make of any of this. I wanted to believe she was serious. But what if she was? What was my plan, exactly?
“I’d definitely move for the right guy,” she said. “But it would have to be more than just physical attraction.”
Two could play at this flirtation game. “Are you saying you’re physically attracted to me?”
“I am,” she said. “And that’s weird for me.”