Haley's Mountain Man Page 6

  He dropped his gaze. Fast. This, he decided for the second time that day, could never happen again. Not if he wanted to protect his sanity, which he very much did. A woman like Haley would drive him ten ways of crazy in no time flat. Hell, he was already halfway there.

  “No, you are definitely not most people,” he managed to say.

  “Neither are you.”

  He couldn’t argue with that one. “Has anyone—I don’t know, your brothers, maybe—ever brought up the issue of your stubbornness? Along with your impulsive nature and lack of a self-preservation instinct, that is?”

  “Now there’s a question,” she said with a chuckle. “Truth is, all of us Fosters have a stubborn streak a mile wide. I’m not alone in that regard.”

  “Only a mile, huh?” She laughed again, soft and bubbly, and the sound of that laugh forced his eyes upward. Eyelashes fluttered and in an instant, he was lost there, in the humor and joy he saw in her gaze. Crazy. “I would guess yours is at least twenty times that.”

  “Depends on who you ask,” she said. “Some might say more, some might say less.”

  “What if I’m asking you?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Why aren’t you eating?”

  “Oh.” Because he’d gotten so caught up in their conversation, in her, that he’d forgotten he was supposed to be eating. He swallowed a few bites of soup, one of dry toast and, after washing all of that down with a gulp of his milk, said, “There, now answer my question.”

  “I believe you’ve already deduced my stubbornness quotient. If something—or someone—is important to me,” she said quietly, with conviction, “I will keep beating my head against a brick wall, even if doing so seems futile. I don’t tend to give up.”

  Her message seemed loud and clear, but Gavin wasn’t sure if he could buy into his interpretation. Deciding to take the light approach, he forced his mouth into some semblance of a smile, tried out a laugh. Sounded rusty, ill-used, to his own ears. “Seems as if you’d walk around with a headache most of the time, going about life in such a fashion.”

  “Sometimes,” she agreed. “But I’d rather have the headache than the knowledge I gave up.” Reaching over, she squeezed his hand. Quicklike. “I guess you should know I don’t give up all that often. Takes an awful lot to force me to walk away.”

  He busied himself with his soup, unsure of how to respond. Or even if he should. The room became quiet as they ate, and he realized his earlier discomfort had lessened by a few degrees. When, exactly, had his stress level dropped? When had he become more at ease with Haley than he had with any other person in a long, long while?

  The answer eluded him, but this—as odd and disconcerting as the facts were—gave him pause, something to consider. Her words, as well. Maybe getting to know Haley would prove to be the beginning of finding his place, a true home, here in Steamboat Springs. He wanted that. Very much so. More than that, he yearned for a connection. Something real with another person.

  Friendship. The concept seemed too big to take in, made his heart gallop in his chest all over again. There was warmth there, too, slipping and sliding through his bloodstream in a way he’d never before experienced. Startling but not unwelcome. Frightening, but he could deal with that. Or he thought he could, if given enough time and space.

  “Haley,” he said, before he could talk himself out of it, “I’m glad you stayed.”

  “I’m glad I stayed, too. So,” she said, rubbing her hands together, “are you ready for my first question? I have three or four all lined up and ready to go.”

  The prospect still seemed daunting. Terrifying. But maybe not quite so much. “Only three or four? From what you said, I expected...oh, a hundred. Maybe two hundred.”

  “Way more than that,” she said, her expression serious and intent. “But you and I? We’re just getting started, Gavin. I see no reason to rush anything. We have plenty of time ahead of us.”

  Just getting started. Plenty of time. Us.

  A bolt of his earlier anxiety returned but he didn’t pay heed to it, didn’t give the negativity room to grow. He wanted this. Wanted to have the opportunity to get to know Haley, wanted to find it in himself to allow her to get to know him. Even if the whole idea scared him witless. Even if she—and her motivation—confused the hell out of him. He wanted this.

  Maybe, he even needed this.

  “So, are you ready?” she asked again.

  “I believe I am,” he said, praying hard that he was, indeed, ready. “Fire away.”

  * * *

  Scowling, Haley pushed her hair off her forehead and let loose a string of colorful curse words. All of which her brothers had taught her at one point or another. Last month’s numbers for the sports store refused to balance, and darn if she could figure out why.

  The mistake, she knew, was likely hers. An inputting error or something equally simple. She just couldn’t find it, and didn’t think she had much left in her for the night. Her head ached, she couldn’t see straight and her shoulders were sore from leaning over the computer at an awkward angle for so freaking long. Yeah, she was done.

  Releasing a sigh, she closed her eyes and pushed out a breath. Tomorrow, she’d phone her cousin Seth’s wife, Rebecca—who thankfully was a CPA—and beg for help. Maybe even consider Rebecca’s offer to take over more of the accounting. What a relief that would be. Of course, Haley’s workload would drop significantly during their slow seasons, and therefore her paycheck would also drop accordingly. She’d insist on that, even if her family argued.

  Not a huge deal. She lived in the apartment above the restaurant rent-free, so living on less money wouldn’t cause any problems. Mostly, she just hated not being busy.

  Perhaps there was more she could do at the restaurant, or maybe Cole could use extra help at the sporting goods store until the summer season kicked into full gear. She’d bring up the possibility at the next family meeting, get everyone else’s take and go from there.

  Opening her eyes, she saved and closed the software program. Sighed again, frustrated she hadn’t been able to locate the error. She blamed Gavin. Well, that was unfair. It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t get him out of her head, couldn’t stop thinking of him.

  Lord, had that man made an impact.

  Somehow, she had to find a way to bring him on board with her collaboration idea. Then, she’d have a slew of projects to focus on. Even better, she’d have plenty of reasons to spend time with the mountain man. Getting a new business up and running, even a small business, would require hours and hours of work. Side by side, talking, figuring out all of the details.

  Learning what made him tick.

  She’d be useful, too, if he’d let her. Valuable. Her degree was in business marketing, but she had a knack for design and enjoyed the creative process, coming up with ideas. For starters, he needed a logo. Well-designed brochures, flyers, an entire online presence. And he also needed to get to know more of the locals. Word-of-mouth could go a long, long way.

  Joining forces with the Fosters would help. Her family was already well-known, had already formed the necessary connections. She’d even figured out how a partnership with Gavin could benefit her family’s businesses. They always had clients they had to turn away during the busy seasons. If Gavin and her family agreed, they could refer these folks to each other.

  New business would mean repeat business in following seasons, at least to a certain extent, and that meant a better bottom line. Even if the benefits fell more on Gavin’s side.

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t do one thing with any of her ideas unless Gavin and her family agreed. There was a solution, somewhere. Haley just hadn’t found it yet, but she would. She could be awfully stubborn when something mattered.

  The now-familiar warmth balled low in her stomach, flared through her limbs. Gavin mattered. A lot. The feeling tha
t he was important—possibly even essential—to her life hadn’t lessened. If anything, her belief in this regard had grown stronger. More certain.

  For now, though, she was keeping all of this to herself. Her family, as much as she loved them and vice versa, were a nosy, intrusive crew, dipping into one another’s lives without hesitation. Heck, she was the same way with them, so she couldn’t really complain.

  But this connection with Gavin—whatever that turned out to be—demanded space to grow without interference. Specifically, her brothers’ interference. She could only imagine how Gavin would react if Reid, Dylan, Cole—or, good grief, all three of them—showed up on his doorstep playing their overprotective big-brother roles. If this were to happen, she’d be lucky to ever hear from him again. He’d likely take off at a dead run if he ever saw her coming.

  And once gone, she had a feeling he’d never look back.

  Better for now to keep this sense of finding something—someone—special, a secret. Wouldn’t be easy, though. Not with her family. Not in Steamboat Springs, either, where everyone knew her. Well, then. She’d have to make the best use of whatever time she had before the secret was out in the open. And really, why not start now?

  Haley glanced at her cell, willing it to ring. Didn’t work, naturally. She’d hoped, after their lunch, that Gavin would contact her. Four days later, and she hadn’t heard from him. Should she practice patience as well as secrecy and give him a little longer, see if he used the phone number she’d left with him? Or should she contact him?

  The answer was clear and immediate. Without giving the idea any additional consideration, she pulled out the flyer from her desk, where she’d stashed it, and logged in to her email program. What could be more cautious and nonintrusive than a freaking email?

  Seemed safe, low-key. Far better than following him home, which surprisingly hadn’t ended in disaster. If he responded to her email, she’d go from there.

  If he didn’t, she’d proceed in a different direction. A cautious, secretive-to-her-family, nonimpulsive direction that hopefully wouldn’t send Gavin running for the hills.

  She chewed on her bottom lip, twisted her hair around her finger and considered the probability of her being able to remain cautious, secretive and patient all at the same time.

  Right. She was so screwed.

  Chapter Five

  Another question, Gavin thought, staring at the email message that had popped into his in-box less than fifteen minutes ago. Lord, the woman had a million and one questions, and he figured once he’d answered all of those, she’d find another million to toss his way.

  Not that he minded all that much. He just didn’t understand how someone could have such a high curiosity about another person. He never had. Well, he corrected, that used to be true. As it turned out, he found himself mighty curious about one Haley Foster. Not that he’d bounced the question ball back in her direction. Couldn’t quite seem to do it, even when he’d typed his question out, all nice and neat. Something—nerves, doubt—always made him delete that bit before sending the message on. Eventually, maybe. For now, he was just fine with the status quo.

  Okay, perhaps fine was an overexaggeration of sorts.

  Thirteen days had passed since they’d shared a meal, and for most of the hours in the first four of those days, he’d had this squirrely, jumpy, almost-but-not-quite panicky sensation that he’d dreamed up the whole encounter. Or that she’d decided he wasn’t worth the effort to get to know, despite what she’d said, and was sorry she’d given in to the impulse to follow him home.

  To combat those negative thoughts, because he didn’t fully believe them even if they did stick in his head like glue, he’d readied himself to pick up the phone. To call her.

  Only problem was, he had no idea what to say.

  After some thinking on that, when he had a few ideas toward having an actual conversation—a conversation that he would instigate, no less—and was all set to give those ideas a shot, she’d surprised him with an email. In the time since then, they’d developed a routine. She would email, ask him a question or two, and he would respond.

  It seemed she’d been honest. It seemed she hadn’t changed her mind. She really did want to get to know him. The reality of it all took some getting used to. He was almost there. Almost believing in something that both scared him and made him, if not happy, optimistic.

  How was that even possible? How could any one thing—particularly, a woman—cause two emotions that were about as opposite as two things can get? He didn’t know. Didn’t much care to put a magnifying glass on the reasons, either. One day a time...hell, one email at a time, was about all a man could handle when the woman in question was Haley Foster.

  Even so, he couldn’t stop the smile that appeared as he reread Haley’s latest message, at the now-familiar punch of surprise that hit him anew. Where did she come up with this stuff? Last Christmas was months ago, the next was a greater number of months away, so why this question now? And did it really matter to her what his favorite Christmas memory was?

  Another negative thought. He pushed that one out before it could take hold, before the slenderest strand of negativity could shake his equilibrium or do away with his contentment. She’d gone to the trouble of asking, hadn’t she? Yep, she had. Apparently, whether he understood it or not, his favorite Christmas memory mattered to her. Well, then.

  Wasn’t hard to find the answer. Most of his Christmases hadn’t held even a zip of magic or wonder. There were a few, though, that had. One in particular. One that he’d never forget.

  Gavin started to type. Stopped. Thought about which words to use, which order to put those words in, how to express what was in his head and, maybe even more important, his heart, without sounding cheesy. Or dumb. Or... Dammit. Why did he do this to himself?

  “Quit thinking so much and just answer the friggin’ question,” he muttered. So, typing with one finger, he wrote his message in simple terms:

  My favorite Christmas memory, huh? I suppose that would have to be the year we had a new puppy in the house. She used her teeth to open most every present under the tree before any of us got up. Bits of paper were all over the place. That pup made one helluva mess. It was funny. I guess that’s why it’s my favorite. Laughing on Christmas morning seems like a good thing. Was a good thing.

  Gavin stared at what he’d written, second-guessed himself a thousand times and, when he couldn’t think of a better way to say what he’d already said, finally hit Send. Good enough, he supposed, but he hadn’t quite admitted the truth, hadn’t shared the real reason why this particular memory meant so much to him. Why he’d never let it go.

  Rubbing his beard, which he hadn’t yet trimmed, he allowed himself a minute to dip into the memory. He’d been twelve that year, had only lived with the Demkos since the previous August, so this was the first of three Christmases he was lucky enough to spend with them.

  He’d moved in right before school had started, which hadn’t pleased him any. Different schools so often might have become normal, but that didn’t mean he’d ever grown used to being the new kid. So he had the tough, surly attitude, the feigned distaste for anything and everything Russ and Elaine tried to do for him, show him, buy him.

  They’d treated him well. Real well, and what had he done in return? Yelled, stormed off, skipped school, stole money from Russ’s wallet for no reason other than he could and pretty much anything else he could think of to get a rise out of them. And yeah, he’d managed to do that a time or two, but they never threatened to send him away. They just kept trying to get through the barriers he’d built around himself, and he kept promising they never would.

  And then Christmas morning arrived. He’d had the wish the night before that his mother would get her act together and show up just in time to spend the holiday with her son. She hadn’t, but by then, he’d stopped thin
king about her so much. Because that morning, seeing that pup—Roxie, her name had been Roxie—with wrapping paper hanging out of her mouth, torn shreds of it all over the floor, dangling lights and fallen ornaments, and boxes with the corners chewed off, had done something to him. Something he couldn’t explain, other than to say he’d laughed, along with Russ and Elaine, along with the other kid staying with them.

  And that laughter, the mess around him, that silly pup, all but smashed the shield he’d erected. Now, today, he shook his head, smiling all over again, caught in the memory. That was the moment he’d relaxed enough to start letting Russ and Elaine in. That was the moment he’d first started to learn what being a part of a family—a real, honest-to-God family—entailed.

  He’d never forgotten that day, that memory. Not once.

  That morning had changed him as no other morning, no other Christmas ever had. But how in the world could he explain that to another person, a person who probably had a happy memory for every Christmas she’d been alive? In an email, for crying out loud?

  The moment was too big for words, he guessed. Too much to explain to someone who wouldn’t be able to understand the concept of not having a real family.

  Gavin swore under his breath. Stared at his email. Debated the wisdom of what he was thinking of, told himself again to stop all the thinking and did it. Wrote another email to Haley, this one with enough words and details, hopefully, to get his point across, without going into too much detail. Without sharing the pain that came before and later.

  And then, dammit, he couldn’t move from the fold-out chair or stop staring at the laptop screen. Not until she responded, not until he was sure he hadn’t exposed too much.