Page 2 of Autumn Feud With The Mountain Man (Ozark Mountain Men Falling For Love #1)

Shelby

“You all right?” Sara asked. She was the paralegal at Stillson Law, the tiny, small town law firm I was interning at. She was also my first friend in Deer Springs.

We’d just walked outside for our lunch break and I stopped short.

She turned to check on me and found me staring at the bag of trash sitting on the sidewalk. A pile of autumn leaves had already blown against it, making it look like it had been there for weeks instead of one short morning.

“Motherfucking asshole,” I hissed.

“What’s wrong?”

My heart started racing as I tried to find the words to describe the evil feud I’d been drawn into.

“It’s the guy who works for the garbage company. He’s driving me insane .”

I skirted around the bag of trash as we walked the fifteen feet from the law office to the bakery.

“Garbage company. You mean Thatcher?” Sara held the door open for me as we went in.

The scent of pumpkin spice permeated the air, and I wanted to eat everything in sight.

I shook my head. “If that’s the owner, then no. I’m talking about the asshole who works for him.”

Sara got a confused look on her face. “No one works for him. Unless he hired someone. But that seems unlikely. It’s always just been him. Or his brother, Hudson, when he fills in.”

“This guy has a thick, dark beard and eyes that roam too much. He only seems to wear flannel. And his smile is… trouble.”

Sara plopped down at a corner table, propping her feet up on one of the empty chairs next to us. “That could describe both men. Does he have a tattoo of a bear on his forearm? Or a hawk?”

Slowly, I nodded. “Bear.”

I hated that I knew that. But I’d noticed the tattoo one week when we’d had words with each other. More specifically, I’d noticed the way his forearm rippled, making the tattoo shift as he lifted the bag of trash and slung it in the back of his truck.

Sara waved Emma over. “You’re definitely talking about Thatcher.”

That stopped me in my tracks. “So the guy who runs the trash route every week is the owner ?”

“Yeah. Total sweetheart. And I hear he’s banging in the bedroom.” She added that last part with her lips quirked into a high grin.

“You’re a married woman. You don’t get to talk that way anymore,” I joked.

She shrugged a shoulder and grinned. “I can’t help what I’ve heard . You should explore the man. When you find out if the rumors are true, report back with all the details.”

I started laughing and shook my head. “You’re crazy, Sara. I’m not fucking the trashman.”

Deer Springs was one of those ridiculously quaint, tiny towns that dotted middle America. And Sara was quintessential Deer Springs. Too sweet.

Even the owner of the law firm, Hank Stillson, was nice. And who’s ever met a nice lawyer before? I mean, I hadn’t.

Everyone was cupcakes and puppies around here, except the trash man.

It figured Sara would know him.

We ordered lunch as I filled her in on what Thatcher had done.

“When I first got here, I forgot to take out the trash. So it piled up for a week, getting stinky.”

“Is that why there was a bag of trash sitting in the back hallway a few months back?”

“Yeah. Since he didn’t pick it up raccoons got into it, so I had to go clean that up, re-bag it, and bring it inside for a whole week.”

Sara said, “But that’s not Thatcher’s fault.”

“No. But I called the trash company and asked for a special midweek pickup, and the guy on the phone laughed at me! I may have forgotten to take out the trash, but the raccoons are his fault.”

Sara shifted in her seat uncomfortably and nibbled on her pasta salad. “He doesn’t live here. He lives on Red Oak Mountain, and he does trash service for a half dozen local towns. He probably couldn’t come back just to get one bag of trash.”

That was the trouble with Sara. She was a real sweetheart. But she had a hard time seeing the bad in people.

And I was a lawyer. I was paid to see the bad in people.

Leaving the prestigious law firm I’d worked at in New York City to come here for an internship with a small country lawyer had probably been a mistake. But I was too stubborn to admit my mistakes. I’d just keep plowing through them until I figured out my next step in life.

It was most certainly not this.

“Well, the next time was definitely his fault,” I told her.

She sucked down dessert first, a raspberry tart that was entirely too good for a small-town bakery to make. “What did he did that time?”

I had the common decency to look slightly abashed. “Well, it was part his fault and,” I cleared my throat, “part my fault.”

Sara waited for me to tell her, while the owner of the bakery, Emma, brought our meals out.

Looking away, I said, “I put the trash out, but… I may have forgotten to bring the can all the way to the curb.”

Sara raised her eyebrows, waiting for the rest of the story.

“I got a call from my old law firm while I was bringing the can out. My old boss did a hard sell to get me to come back. We had a little good-natured negotiation, the way lawyers do, and I’d gotten distracted by the large number he’d thrown my way if I came back.

It would be a hell of a raise. So I forgot all about the trash. ”

And I had to admit, the internship hadn’t gone exactly as planned.

I mean, imagine a lawyer being assigned to take out the trash and clean up the break area! It was also my job to make the coffee in the morning.

But if I stayed on for a year, and Hank liked me, he’d sell me the practice. And if that happened, I’d never take out the trash again. It would be Sara’s job.

Not that I resented her over it. But Hank had some funny ideas.

When he hired me he told me that the paralegal, Sara, came in an hour late every day because she was trying to have a baby.

If you asked me, having a baby and showing up at work on time had nothing in common.

But to hear Hank talk about it, it was the only way it would happen.

He seemed fully invested in his paralegal getting the chance to pop out babies.

Sara frowned at me across the table as I finished my bacon croissant. “You’re thinking about leaving?”

That’s what she took from everything I said?

“I don’t know if I’m leaving or not,” but I was leaning that way. “Deer Springs is… cute. But I’m not sure I fit here. Sometimes I feel like it was a mistake to leave New York.”

Sara looked genuinely upset, even though we’d only known each a few months. “I hope you stay. We love having you here. And I thought you were buying Hank’s practice? You’re supposed to be my future boss.”

“I am buying it. I mean, I’m thinking about it. That’s the whole purpose of the internship—to make sure it’s a good fit and to give Hank time to transition into retirement.”

Sara nodded. “I can understand that. It’s just that I’ve gotten used to having you around. And if you don’t buy the practice, who will?”

“Someone who’s not me.” But even as I said it, a sliver of discomfort snaked through me. I felt like I’d blown up my whole life coming here. But going back to my old life didn’t feel right, either. So far, I’d stayed, keeping me in a rare state of indecision. I felt like I was treading water.

“You just need to get out and meet some people. Do you want to come to Backwoods Brews with me tonight? I could introduce you to some of the single men.”

I rapidly shook my head. “No, no. Men only lead to trouble.”

Sara gave me a knowing smile. “Maybe if you found a man here, you’d feel a little more settled in. I know every bachelor in town.”

Thoughts of Thatcher popped into my head.

Thatcher’s eyes dropping down to stare at my cleavage. The slow, unconscious lick of his lips as he did it. The way he leaned against the truck casually, like he’d never been bothered by anything in his life.

He was the only man who’d popped into my mind during my recent evening self-care sessions.

Thatcher tearing off my dress.

Thatcher bending me over the seat of his truck.

Thatcher giving me a proper welcome to the Ozarks, mountain man style.

That was where my nightly thoughts had been wandering lately.

My cheeks flushed pink.

“No matchmaking. But I wouldn’t mind hanging out again. I had fun the last time we went out.”

She assessed me before she spoke, as though she was aware of all my secrets.

“Awesome. We’ll do another movie night this weekend. And my friend Brook is having a party in a few weeks. We’ll get you all glammed up Deer Springs style. Not that you need it. You’re gorgeous and… fancier than most of us around here.”

I smiled. “Sure. It’s a plan. Thanks for inviting me.”

I’d let Sara and her friends give me a makeover. I’d probably end up in a tiny denim skirt and a pair of cowgirl boots. But it would be fun . And maybe it would help me feel like I fit in around here.

Sara said, “But getting back to what we were talking about, it doesn’t sound like Thatcher did anything wrong. I’m not trying to take sides, but… he has a big route, and if he hand-picked up everyone’s trash from next to the front door, he’d never get done in a day.”

“I know that. But he should have done it as a courtesy. It’s not like it happens every time, and acting the way he does means he’s going to lose a lot of business to the competition. As soon as Hank sells the law firm to me, I’m changing trash companies.”

Sara snorted. “There are no other trash companies, Shelby. He’s it.”

I wrinkled my brow. “Well, who did it before him?”

“His dad.”

“Oh.”

“Thatcher’s not so bad. I bet if you talked to him you’d see he’s a real sweetheart. And he plays a serious guitar, too. Sometimes he comes in here on Saturday evenings and plays for the crowd. Although he’s usually at the Bear Den on Red Oak Mountain.”

The Bear Den. That sounded fitting.

The man resembled a bear. A big, happy furry bear. One with a wicked glint in his brown eyes, unruly, wavy hair barely contained, and a burly beard to match. And that was all without talking about his muscles.

Not that I’d noticed any of them.

Or the way he seemed to take an unhealthy level of pleasure in pissing me off.

Or the way his eyes wandered into no trespassing zones, lingering on the curve of my tops for far longer than any civilized man would allow himself.

The man was a barbarian. A total barbarian.

As I thought that, two more burly barbarians walked through the door.

Both spoken for.

One belonged to Sara, and the other to her best friend Emma.

I’d met Steve and Grant my first week here. Steve popped in whenever he could to give Sara a kiss on her lunch break. He was good-natured, goofy and sweet as hell.

Grant was remote and quiet. A strong silence lived inside him.

Both men were hot as hell. But neither held a candle to the trashman’s rugged good looks.

That was another thing that pissed me off about him. Add it to the list of things that were wrong about Thatcher. Too hot. Which made him completely annoying.

Quietly, before Steve got to the table, I said, “He said his boss’s name was Thatcher.”

Sara quirked up a brow. “Maybe he was making a joke.”

Then I watched the two couples connect, Grant moving towards Emma, Steve sitting down and slinging an arm around Sara.

They were newlyweds and obviously wildly in love. It was enough to drive me crazy.

Not that I was upset at them, but I never saw that happening to me.

Love and I didn’t mix.

Until recently, there hadn’t been time. But that was part of why I’d moved here in the first place, to find the time for little things like love and life.

Unfortunately, despite the warm welcome I’d received, I still felt like an outsider. All my hard New York edges that made me cunning and strong where I came from, felt rough against the polite society of southern country folk.

Everyone was yes ma’am and no sir around here.

Just the other day, my neighbor had offered to weed my garden bed for me!

I’d thought they’d been making a pointed slight about the fact that I’d obviously done nothing to the yard since moving in.

But then they’d told me they were the president of the Deer Springs Garden Club and wanted to practice with a new combination of plants. They’d run out of room at their house.

It had taken me a while to believe they were telling the truth, but now I knew they were.

And my front bed now had a whole host of fall flowers cropping up thanks to them. Asters and chrysanthemums, decorative cabbage, and a row of short, late-blooming crepe myrtles. The whole display was a medley of fall colors. Burnt orange and rust browns, cheery reds, and mustard yellows.

It cheered me up every time I walked home and saw it.