Poetic Justice: A Songwriter Mountain Man Romance: Rock Hard Mountain Man Series, #1

By Kylie Parker

I saved a beautiful woman from certain death.

That doesn't make me less of a monster.

The world is a cruel place. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. It'll make you fall in love, cheat on you with your best friend, and kill the only people that matter before you can get any closure.

I know that from personal experience.

After my life crumbled to pieces, I gave up love for good.

Until the moment she crossed my path in the woods.

One freezing night, one deep cut on her skin, and I was alive again.

Olivia makes my soul sing. She makes me want to play music again.

She makes me want to love her.

But Olivia has too many secrets.

And unless we can move past the lies and into the light…

…her past might destroy our future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kylie Parker Romance
• Release date: Jan 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386457510

Book preview

1

The Panther Mountain Peak broke through the white mist, ruling, in awesome splendor, over the soft, clear sky. In the long years that James had spent in Slide Mountain, he had witnessed this scene many times. Still, he could not get enough of it. The sunset colors in the winter sky had always been an incredible source of inspiration; he would savor each and every moment of the spectacle and wish that he could soon see it again.

Life near the summit of the highest peak in the Catskill Mountains was by no means easy. James Farrell was at the mercy of the elements. Wildlife that could actually kill – Black bears, wolves and coyotes – surrounded where he called home. Still, the 29-year old man was not afraid of beasts. In his mind, he felt he should be wary of men, not wild animals. Wolves, as well as other predators, were guided by instinct. Food, water and the continuation of their bloodline were the major factors that drove their behavior. Men were an entirely different matter. To James, they were led by lust, passion and greed. He had lost faith in them a long time ago.

Which is why he had almost no friends in Shandaken, the small town that was located less than two miles east of his cabin. Whenever he needed supplies, he would drive up to the nearest supermarket and buy them, barely saying a word to anybody, other than hello or bye. A 6’3", handsome, athletic man like him attracted a lot of attention. More often or not, he had to tolerate Helen Weir’s advances, daughter of Dwight Weir, the supermarket owner. Most men would not pass on the opportunity to date the beautiful, 24-year old blonde, but that was not the case with him. He was not interested in making new friends. They were mere distractions; they could unravel his solitary life; the life he had chosen for himself.

Sunlight was slowly fading away, as he brought his coffee mug to his lips. Casting one last glance at the snowy, balsam fir forest slope, he returned to the safety and the warmth of his cabin. His dark-blue acoustic guitar beckoned. James picked up a log from the pile next to his fireplace and threw it into the fire, at the same time longing to feel the fine wood on his fingertips. As usual, he would spend the evening reminiscing about simpler, happier times, recollecting situations and emotions that had stayed with him until that day. He sat on the couch and took the instrument in his arms, readying himself for one more trip down memory lane.

Before averting his gaze from the wide, living room window, though, something drew his attention: A wolf’s tail, waving as he sped past his cabin. His ears picked up the hurried footsteps of more wolves. In a matter of seconds, four more animals ran by. Used to the sight of beasts hunting in the forest, he paid no attention to it and attempted to focus on his guitar. Nevertheless, he could not; a loud, agonizing scream of pain tore the silence. In a split second, a subsequent piercing cry for help made him jump from his seat. James put the guitar down on the couch and sprinted across his small living room. The little light helped him notice someone lying on the snow, just before the edge of the forest. Judging by the high-pitched tone, the voice belonged to a woman. His cabin was more than fifty yards away from the forest. James could only make out her yellow coat, as she lay on her back, facing his direction.

Having no time to waste, he grabbed his shotgun from the rack on the wall and stormed out of his cabin. By now, the first wolf was just a few feet away from her, closing the distance fast. James gripped the handle of his weapon and pointed it to the sky. The powerful blast echoed in the wilderness. Much to his relief, the five predators were spooked by the bang. Each and every one of the wolves turned around and started running in the direction from which they had come. Nevertheless, James had to make sure that they stayed away from him and his cabin as well. In his experience, the grey wolf only preyed on injured or sick individuals. The chances of him being attacked were very slim, but he could not risk an encounter with five, powerful lupines. Therefore, he lowered his shotgun and pointed it down at them. His hunch was correct: none of the wolves even cast a glance at him and bypassed his cabin.

James strapped his shotgun around his neck, feeling the adrenaline rushing through his veins. Looking down the forest slope, he started towards her. Within seconds, his legs were knee-deep in the snow. James staggered forwards, feeling the cold driving into his bones. Lightning began to light up the night; under any other circumstances, he would not appreciate the blinding light. This time though, it helped him pinpoint her exact location. She lay just a few feet before the closest balsam fir tree.

Running in the snow took a lot of effort. Even a strong man like him found himself short of breath, as he hurriedly closed the gap between them. But James would not stop. The woman’s image got closer and closer by the second; by now; he could make out the red color of her pants. Slowing down, he took two large steps towards her and stopped beside her. Then, James pulled a flashlight out of his coat and pointed it at her face, as the sound of her gasping breath filled his ears. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, but, when she opened them again, he discovered that fear was still written across her face.

Are you ok? He asked, gasping for breath as well.

My knee… She groaned, tensing her jaw. Moving his flashlight’s beam over her body, James discovered what she was talking about. Her pants were torn at the right knee. Blood was oozing out of a deep gash across her kneecap. The thought of offering his hand to help her up crossed his mind. However, he quickly rejected it. A walk back to his cabin would take way too long and might be impossible. The wolves were still close; it was only a matter of time before they returned. So, he kept his mouth shut and moved around her. He bent down, reached towards her and put his hands under her armpits. James flexed his arm muscles. Slowly and steadily, he began to lift her. Another painful moan left the woman’s lips, as snowflakes fell off her long, brown hair and her coat.

Sorry… He said in a near whisper. There’s no other way. Keep your voice down.

2

James eased the brunette down on his couch and brought the small table closer. He put her mangled leg up on it and went to the kitchen. With a first aid kit in his hands, he returned and sat on his knees beside her, staring at her gaping wound.

Let me guess. He started. Hiking?

Yeah; hiking. She spoke, her voice hardly audible, as he cleaned up her wound with gauze. Thanks for the rescue. I’m Olivia, by the way. Olivia Ralston.

James Farrell. He murmured, tossing the dirty gauze on the hardwood floor. Don’t thank me. It’s your coat that saved you. If it was black or brown, I wouldn’t have been able to see it.

Bright outdoor clothing is essential in hiking. Olivia affirmed. It helps your buddies keep an eye on you. I came here alone, though.

Bad idea. James commented, applying gentle pressure on her knee with a cloth wad. How did this happen? Does it hurt anywhere else?

I was just outside the forest. I stumbled over a tree root, banged my knee on a rock. I thought I was going to land on the snow, but…"

The rock was covered in snow. He finished her sentence, as he wrapped her wound in a clean bandage. It’s quite common. Anyway… He sighed, rolling his gaze up to meet hers. You need to take your pants off. I’m going to get you a blanket.

What? All of a sudden, her voice became a high-pitched squeal.

It’s soaking wet. James put a little force in his voice. Your blood could freeze. Don’t you know that?

Right. She nodded. Sorry, I thought…

I’ll be right back. He interrupted, arising to his imposing, 6’3" stature.

People… He thought to himself. She knows the danger and yet, she thinks I want to see her legs. If I wanted to force you into anything, I wouldn’t have asked. Trust me.

Burroughs range trail from the east? He inquired, throwing her a grey blanket.

No. She snorted, covering her legs with the blanket. I’m an experienced hiker. I’m not crazy. Burroughs range trail from the west. It’s a lot easier.

I’ll never understand you hikers. James shook his head. A mountain is a dangerous place to be.

It’s a hobby. Just like your guitar over there. Olivia stated, casting a rapt glance at the instrument to her left. Just like the piano, down the hall.

Pianos and guitars can’t kill you. His voice was dripping with sarcasm. The mountain can.

Normally, I’d argue with you. A hesitant smile spread across her face. But I won’t. You just saved my life. Anyway, I should probably call some…

At that moment, a massive crack of thunder tore through the night, grabbing their attention. Moments later, the sound of rain, lashing against his window, wiped the smile off of her face.

I wouldn’t drive around up here in this weather. James spoke in a firm tone. Where do you live anyway?

Manhattan. A deep, heavy sigh escaped her.

That’s almost a hundred miles away. He said. And you’re in no condition to drive.

I can’t stay here! Olivia exclaimed.

You can if you want to. James remained calm.

What about your wife? She wondered, amusing him.

My what? He laughed.

Your girlfriend, maybe? Olivia squinted at him.

I’m all alone. James declared. It’s just you and me.

You’re on a vacation all by yourself? Olivia’s high-pitched voice reappeared, but, this time, it was even louder.

Who said I was on a vacation? He shrugged.

I’m sorry. She murmured, running her hand through her hair. Thanks again. You just don’t look like a mountain man. This place doesn’t look like it belongs to a mountain man, either. It’s clean. It smells good.

I’m an old-fashioned man, Olivia. James lowered his tone. I never wanted to grow a beard, and tattoos were never really my thing.

What do you do? Curiosity lingered in her tone. I mean, obviously you’re not a lumberjack or a builder.

Her question put him in a difficult position, but, more importantly, it irritated him. James had done what he had to do. He was not going to answer a complete stranger’s questions, just because she happened to be in his cabin.

You should get some rest. He growled, dropping his gaze from her. You’ve been through quite an ordeal.

That’s true. Olivia said quietly, with a nod. Then she almost whispered, I crossed the line there.

Don’t say you’re sorry again. James urged, grabbing his guitar. Playing some music had always been the best remedy for jangling nerves, and this case definitely fit that situation. Nevertheless, as his fingertips made contact with the strings, something made him uneasy. he realized the problem; the young brunette who was staring at him.

She’s beautiful. For some reason, Olivia’s voice sent shivers down his spine. A Taylor, 714: she’s just gorgeous.

You play? He asked, turning his attention to her.

Not yet. She shook her head sideways. I’ve been thinking about it lately. I’ve done a lot of research. The cheapest Taylor model costs about $800: definitely not a starter’s guitar. I play the piano.

You do? James opened his eyes wide in disbelief.

Yeah. She chirped. I’ve been playing since I was eight years old. Could you help me up, please? I’d love to get my hands on that piano of yours.

Baffled by her words, he glanced at his piano, then at her. For the first time in years, he had the chance of playing with someone. However, Olivia’s battered knee discouraged him. She could have sustained a much more serious injury than just a flesh wound; he did not want to take any chances.

That’s another bad idea, James reprimanded. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll be in my bedroom.

Please! She begged, slightly leaning in towards him. Come on … just for a little while.

Not even her sweet tone of voice could tempt him to change his mind.

You heard me, He grumbled. Let me know if you need anything.

3

James remained unwilling to admit that Olivia’s request intrigued him; so, he chose solitude over her company. His heart thumped as he entered his bedroom, and it did not stop. On the contrary, much to his frustration, it kept pounding in his chest, minutes after he left her alone.

Now that’s what I call a ‘distraction.’ She plays the piano. Well, good for her. But what if her knee is broken? Or maybe even her leg? I can’t take her to the hospital; not in this weather. Get her out of your mind, James. Focus on the more important things in life.

James opened his bedroom balcony door. The cold breeze struck his body. Raindrops landed on his face, as he looked up into the sky. Closing his eyes, he drowned in the fragrances of wet soil, wet snow, and damp wood, feeling water dripping down his cheeks. He ran both hands through his hair, as his heartbeat subsided. Mother Nature, once again, comforted him.

But James was soon dealt another surprise, one that made his blood boil in his veins. Barely had he become calm when he heard music. Apparently, Olivia had disobeyed him, finding and, now, playing the piano. His initial thought involved scolding her once more. Not only was she being disrespectful, she was putting herself at risk. All the same, he would do no scolding. Instead, he crossed his bedroom, stopped under the doorframe and leaned against the wall, preferring to listen to her. She was playing one of his favorite songs: Guns N' Roses November Rain. Her delicate hands danced over the piano keys, as passion poured out of her. Every few seconds, she would squeeze her eyes shut, losing herself in the magic of the moment and, disregarding her pain, she even tapped her right foot on the floor. As much as her disobedience had annoyed him, he simply could not deny that he enjoyed watching her. In fact, he liked it so much that only a minute afterwards, he could no longer resist the temptation: he had to accompany her.

However, an acoustic guitar was not suitable for this. It wasn’t nearly as loud as the piano and an electric just fit the song so much better. Therefore, James went to the next room, grabbed his sunburst Gibson from its stand and one of his smaller amplifiers. He then rushed to the living room and plugged it in a socket on the wall behind the piano. Olivia looked up at him, as he strapped his guitar around his neck. A blissful smile spread across her face, as she hummed the lyrics.

Alright, he spoke, holding a silver pick tightly between his thumb and index finger. You got your wish; from the top. Three, two, one…

She did not utter a word; she simply, happily complied. Olivia started the piano introduction of the famous ballad, fixing her gaze on the keys. Lost in his thoughts, he had missed this part earlier. But now that he was there, James could savor every moment of it. Too impatient to wait any longer, he joined her, much before he was supposed to.