Page 6 of A Mountain to Climb
“Stop light, turn left, curves, and don’t drive too fast. Got it.” I hold out my hand and he returns my gesture with a handshake.
“Drive safe. If you get lost, just turn around and come back. Have a good day.” One last wave and he goes back inside his shop. Glancing around the town, I get back in my car and head in the direction I guess I need to go.
That guy wasn’t kidding about it being a curvy road. My car handles these twists and turns like I imagine a racecar would around a track. I hit the gas a bit early in the last corner and watch as two giant buildings become a blur to my left.
Luckily for me, there’s an intersection just past the building that I can turn around at. I circle back and pull into the parking lot, which is fairly large and wide open. The only sign of life is a row of about a dozen motorcycles lined up at the edge of the porch in front of the building. I can hear noises coming from the repair garage located on the left side of the lot, but no one comes out.
Not knowing where to park, I pull over to the edge of the lot, get out, and walk across the empty lot. I’m stunned by how much bigger this building looks the closer I get to it. It looked large from the road, but it’s even more imposing up close.
The double front doors are wider and taller than normal doors. I raise my hand to knock, but hesitate. What am I doing here? Oh, shut up. Grow some balls and knock.
Knock knock.
I wait a few minutes, but nothing happens. I go to knock again, but suddenly, one of the doors opens in and I’m face to face with a broad chest covered by a leather vest. Looking up, I see the most attractive man I’ve ever met in my life. My brain short circuits and I forget my own damn name.
Slowly lowering my gaze, I begin my visual exploration of this tall specimen of a man. This guy has to be well over six feet tall, and he’s got shortly cropped, dirty blonde hair, and deep brown eyes the color of rich chocolate. His face is dropped in an annoyed expression, but I keep going on my hottie adventure. I can tell by a slight crook that his nose may have been broken a few times. A mustache and neatly trimmed beard cover what looks like a super sharp jawline.
His leather vest is over a black t-shirt and I catch sight of dog tags hanging around his neck. I wonder if I could convince him to dress up in his uniform for me. I’d show my appreciation for his service, for sure.
Lana! What the hell?
I quickly finish up my not-so-secret inspection and see he’s wearing blue jeans and black boots. The outfit and attitude radiating off this man screams biker.
“Are you done undressing me with your eyes?” the man barks out.
“I guess so, but would you mind taking your shirt off so I can see what’s hiding underneath?” As soon as the words are out, I slap my hand over my mouth and close my eyes. I can’t believe I actually said that out loud.
The guy lets out what I’m guessing is supposed to be a chuckle, but it ends up sounding like a cough behind his fist. “Alright then. So other than removing my clothes, is there a reason you’re here?”
“I’m so sorry about that. Apparently, my brain to mouth filter is broken.” I shake my hands and cross my arms in front of my chest. “I’m looking for my sister. Last I heard from her, she said she lives here.”
“And who’s your sister?”
“Her name’s Roxy.”
The look that falls over his face is not a good one. His jaw clenches tight and his upper lip curls on the right. His eyebrows lower, forcing him to squint his eyes. I don’t know if standing on this porch is the best place for me to be.
The door starts to close, but I throw a hand out, stopping it from slamming me in the face. “What the hell is wrong with you, you brute?” I shove the door open wider and it slams back against the inside wall.
The bang causes his face to change in an instant. He reaches forward and pulls the door closed behind both of us, joining me on the porch. “I’m sorry about that. Hearing that name causes a gut reaction.”
“Oh” is all I can say. I have no idea what’s going on right now.
“So, you’re Roxy’s younger sister?” he asks.
“Yea. I had a little situation with our parents and wanted to talk to her. They disowned me and kicked me out of my condo. I needed to get away, so here I am. She sent me a letter about ten years ago and this is where she said she was. Is she here?” Now that he started the conversation, I guess my brain’s throwing it all out there to catch up.
He leans back against the porch railing and crosses one boot over the other. “Ummm, let me start by introducing myself. I’m Jethro, but everyone calls me Mountain. Roxy was my ex-girlfriend, and I’m the father of Connor, her now ten-year-old son.”
“Was? What does that mean?”
“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Roxy left us eight years ago.”
“Where’d she go?” Shit. Now what do I do?
CHAPTER FIVE
MOUNTAIN