Page 5 of The Mountain Man's Paradise
“This is where they’re getting married,” I say, stepping onto the grass. “Mindy wanted ocean behind them. Noah wanted whatever made Mindy happy.”
“That sounds right.”
“Are you close with your brother?” I ask.
“Close enough.”
“Mindy said you practically raised him.”
“She exaggerates.”
“Does she?”
He doesn’t answer, just works his jaw.
I turn toward the ocean so I don’t stare at him too openly. “You really live alone on a mountain?”
“Yes.”
“With bears?”
“Not in the house.”
“That’s comforting.”
“They mostly keep to themselves.”
“What’s it really like? Your mountain?”
For the first time all evening, some of the tension leaves his face. “Quiet. Cold half the year. Hard work most days. I’ve got a cabin about forty minutes from the closest town, farther if the road’s bad. There’s timber behind the property, a creek down the slope, and always something busted. Enough repairs to keep me busy until I’m dead.”
“That sounds beautiful.”
“It is.”
“Did you and Noah grow up there?”
“Near there. Smaller house. Less land. Dad worked logging crews. Mom kept everything running. Noah hated the cold and loved people, so he got out as soon as he could.”
“And you stayed.”
“Yeah. That’s where I belong.”
His certainty is matter-of-fact. I envy it a little. Maybe more than a little. “That must be nice.”
He studies me. “You don’t belong somewhere?”
I fold my hands around the edge of the wall behind me, letting the stone cool my palms. “I’m still figuring that out. I’ve moved around a lot. Different jobs, different apartments, different plans that sounded good for a while. I’m good at packing, making friends fast, finding the best bakery in a new neighborhood, and saying yes when someone asks if I want to try something new.”
“What kind of something?”
I shrug. “Weekend trips. Dance classes. Ziplining. Last-minute concerts. A pottery class that ended with a very ugly bowl.”
His mouth finally curves, and the sight of it sends a bright pull through my chest. His smile changes him without making him softer. It also makes him more dangerous to my common sense.
“You’re adventurous,” he says.
“I enjoy knowing there’s more out there than my usual routine.”
