Page 2 of Sinful Mountain Man (Cold Mountain Nights #5)

Hartley

Two months later…

"Oh, shit. Come on, Little Louise. You can do it."

My car chugs up the winding mountain road, and I'm suddenly aware of what a horrible idea this was on an already bad day.

Between getting a terrible night's sleep and running around all morning to confirm vendors for the Firelight Games tomorrow, I shouldn't have tried to squeeze this in.

Especially without reliable transportation.

I haven't driven much over the past few months since arriving in Festival Valley, but my car is not built for mountain driving even on its best days.

Well, this will for sure impress Mr. Maloney. What was I thinking?

A frigid rainstorm is in the forecast for tonight, and I’m completely unprepared if my car breaks down.

I thought I'd be back in plenty of time, so I didn't pack any safety provisions.

At least I stopped by my place and grabbed my warm coat.

I assess the thickness of the sleeve between my thumb and forefinger.

Will this keep me warm enough if I have to sleep in my car tonight?

Judging by the drop in temperature over the last few miles, the answer to that question is a big fat no .

Regardless of the safety concerns, the thought of not making it back down the mountain to finish setting up for the Firelight Games makes me ill.

My team is amazing, and they have a detailed schematic of the entire event, but I need everything to be perfect.

It's my first event of this scale at The Palmer , and I have to make a good impression on my boss.

I lean forward, squinting through the windshield, searching for some kind of opening in the thick brush. I notice a little path off to the right at a turnoff up ahead.

Is this what he meant?

“He” being Bradford Maloney, CEO of The Palmer Resort & Spa , and my boss, who casually mentioned a vague location up the mountain that might be perfect for a future event, and I decided to run with it.

Impress him by taking the initiative. Because he barely knows I exist. Frankly, I've come to view his executive assistant, Susan, as my supervisor since Mr. Maloney refuses to take one-on-one meetings with me or look in my general direction.

Pulling over, I park my car near the start of the path. I bite my lip and get out my phone, typing out a quick message.

Hey. I think I found the spot Maloney mentioned at the all-staff meeting. Is there a little trail out to the clearing that I have to follow, or should the whole thing be visible from the road?

The three dots blink in response as Celeste Blazewood, assistant manager of the resort and a real-life Festival Valley townie, types a response to me. She and the rest of the extensive Blazewood family grew up here. Celeste knows everything about this mountain.

Celeste

You should be able to see it from the road.

Wait, are you up there right now? I figured you'd be going crazy getting set up for the event tomorrow.

Yep. A terrible idea.

I thought maybe the Dawson Wildflower Art Show this spring would be good here.

If I run into Mr. Maloney tomorrow, I plan to tell him I've seen the spot and give him my recommendations.

It's October, Hartley.

I wanted to see it before the weather changed.

Hon, are you trying to win him over for business or pleasure?

My skin heats, knowing that part of my need to please him has nothing to do with my job, and everything to do with the fact that I'm madly in love with the man. A man I frequently refer to as an ass. But that doesn't keep me from wanting him. One of his many admirers, to be sure.

I roll my eyes. Get it together, girl.

And then my phone dies. Searching the glove box, I remember I took the charger out since I don’t use the car often. Fan-fucking-tastic.

That's it. I'm heading back. The winds of fate are warning me against this plan, and I'm not too proud to listen. I'll have Celeste come up here with me in the next few weeks, and we'll borrow a car or something.

The car bumps over something as I pull away, followed by a loud popping noise.

"Shit. Shit. Shit."

I try to keep driving, but the wub-wub-wub noise indicates I’ve popped a tire.

This is the universe reminding me that it can always get worse.

I back up so I can change the spare with more room. The car suddenly jerks to a stop, throwing me roughly in my seat. Rolling down my window, I crane my neck toward the back of the vehicle, but I don't see anything. I try to move forward again, and my wheels spin, kicking up dust and dirt.

When I get out to inspect the situation, I see two large rocks hugging my back wheel and jamming the car in place. The front tire is flat, and the metal rim is bent.

I've thoroughly fucked this up.

Checking my watch, I realize my team isn't expecting me back for another forty-five minutes, which means they might not notice I'm gone for a while.

I breathe through the bile rising in my throat and focus on grounding myself in the present instead of giving in to the anxiety.

Too bad the anxiety seems to be winning.

Nope. Keep the panic at bay, Hartley.

I inhale a deep breath and exhale slowly. Everything will be fine. I'll hunker down here and wait for a car to pass.

As I get back into the driver's seat, I try to roll up my window. It makes a terrible whirring sound and refuses to budge. It's like the car is throwing a fucking two-ton tantrum.

"Fine, Louise, be that way!" I yell, knowing full well I might be headed for full psychosis. Serves me right for trying to get the attention of a man who barely acknowledges I exist.

"Expensive lesson to learn, Hartley," I mutter to myself, pulling the collar of my coat up around my ears.

You're fine. It will be fine. Everything's fine.