Hashtagged By The Mountain Man Read online

  Hashtagged By The Mountain Man

  The Mountain Men of Linesworth

  Frankie Love

  Contents

  Copyright

  About the Book

  1. Kensie

  2. Kodiak

  3. Kensie

  4. Kodiak

  5. Kenzie

  6. Kensie

  7. Kodiak

  8. Kensie

  9. Kodiak

  10. Kensie

  11. Kodiak

  12. Kensie

  Epilogue 1

  Epilogue 2

  Preview

  Also by Frankie Love

  About the Author

  Copyright

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  Edited by

  Teresa Banschbach

  ICanEdit4U

  Copyright © 2018 by Frankie Love

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is more than insta-love, it’s Instagram-love.

  Kodiak comes into my coffee shop every day.

  And I know everything about this rugged outdoorsman.

  I call him #MyMountainMan and take enough discreet photos of him to fill a secret Instagram account.

  Which I do.

  I’m not obsessed, exactly.

  More like super into him. #StalkerMuch

  When he finally asks me out, my dreams have come true.

  Until a viral photo reveals everything. #SpoilerAlert

  I thought Kodiak was my #HappilyEverAfter but can he follow me back after such an #EpicFail?

  Dear Reader,

  Yes, that’s a lot of #s, but Kodiak is worth being a little cray-cray over!

  He’s a mountain man with a body that will have you licking your phone screen.

  Yes, he’s just that yummy.

  XO, Frankie

  1

  Kensie

  I’m standing there at the coffee counter making a customer’s drink when he walks in. The milk I’m frothing is forgotten, and I zoom in on this mountain man. With his thick beard and flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows, his hair curly and eyes so green, I feel like I’ve fallen straight into a forest. I know he’s the man for me.

  Of course, he has literally no idea.

  “Can I get you something?” I manage to ask, wishing I were wearing something other than a boring blue apron. Actually, scratch that. I wish I were wearing nothing but the apron. Forward, maybe, but it’s not every day a man like this walks into the coffee shop where I work.

  “Yeah, can I, uh, get a…” His eyes scan the menu and it’s like he’s never ordered a cup of coffee before. “What’s that?” he asks, frowning and pointing to the drink I should be finishing.

  “Oh!” I pour the milk from the stainless-steel pitcher and then add the extra whip, like the woman ordered, before setting it on the counter.

  “It’s an extra hot, raspberry mocha.” I smile up at him, and then lean over to rearrange the daisies that I brought into work this morning. He looks down at me as I fluff the bouquet and for a moment, time seems to stand still.

  I swallow, thinking he might say something unforgettable, about how he feels what I feel. How this is the moment he has been waiting for. How I am his dream girl. He doesn’t.

  “I’ll get that, the mocha,” he says as if relieved to have it figured out. His eyes are on me and I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. Okay, so maybe there isn’t some sexy banter escaping those perfectly kissable lips of his, but I can do a slow burn. Besides, he’s hotter than the shot of espresso that I just pulled and maybe we both need a second to cool off.

  “I haven’t seen you around before,” I say trying not to stare at his beard. His biceps. His everything. A thick beard I want to run my hand over, muscles bulging at the sleeves of his flannel, and hair that I’m inappropriately wishing I could to run my fingers through.

  “Yeah, just moved to Linesworth,” he says as I wipe the drool from my mouth. “I’m opening up a bike shop on the other end of town.”

  “Oh. That’s great.” I bite back a smile. I’m already picturing myself texting my best friend, Matilda, to tell her that I found the one. “I’m Kensie.”

  “I’m Kodiak.” He doesn’t return the smile, exactly. It’s obvious he’s one of those strong and silent types, but he’s leaning over the counter and watching me intently, so I know he’s at least sorta interested. Right?

  And a quiet guy is something I can dig; I have enough personality for both of us. Still, his gaze is on me and it makes a beeline straight to my heart. I know I’m hopeless but looking at him makes everything seem possible.

  Yes. This could be described as one-sided insta-love, but is there anything so bad about that? Devotion is the cornerstone of any good relationship. I think I read that in a Buzz Feed article once. And everyone knows that is basically real news.

  “So, did you move here alone, Kodiak?” I ask, looking down at the mocha, sure that the light in my eyes would betray my not-so-innocent question.

  He frowns. “Yes, my girlfriend still lives in Seattle.”

  “Oh.” I know I need to make a genuine effort to not reveal my disappointment. So, I give him a broad smile and hand him the drink and force my heart to stop pounding out of my chest.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Kensie,” he says.

  “Yeah, the best,” I say, feeling jittery. It might be the four espressos I’ve had today but I think it’s because Kodiak causes a shiver to run up and down my spine.

  I try not to stare as he sits in an armchair, reading the newspaper, but it’s hard. I keep wiping down tables and sweeping around him unnecessarily.

  When he catches my eye, I’m all deer in the headlights, but try to hide my nerves as he gives me the smallest of waves and stands to go.

  Realizing the moment is fleeting I shrug and say, “Coming by again tomorrow?”

  He smirks. “Should I?”

  “Of course, I make the best coffee in town.”

  “In that case, it’s a date.” The moment the words leave his mouth, he must realize that they aren’t what he meant but I don’t care.

  I laugh. “Wow, Kodiak, you move fast.”

  “I didn’t, I mean I have a girlfriend and--“

  “I’m just teasing. I get it.”

  And I do. Kinda. But mostly I want to see him again.

  He leaves the shop and I set my broom to the side, watching as he leans over and unlocks his mountain bike from the bike stand. He stands, stretching his arms overhead and as he moves, the hem of his T-shirt lifts, and a sigh escapes my lips as I rake my eyes over his washboard abs. #SoManyMuscles.

  I know I have to take a photo. Discreetly, obviously. Matilda, won’t believe this man is real otherwise.

  But he is very real. And here he is, standing right outside the cafe, taking a drink from his water bottle. I know I need to act fast. I grab my phone, crouch down low, and watch through the window.

  I take a photo. Or a dozen. And at this moment, I know it’s the start of an obsession. After he rides away, I stare at the photos, cropping them and applying filters and realizing that I shouldn’t be the only one to enjoy this hottie with a naughty body.

  Without considering anything besides how dreamy he is, I spend my lunch break creating an Instagram acco
unt with the handle @MyMountainMan. I decide, then and there, as I begin uploading half a dozen of the sexy photos, that this feed will feature photos of him and only him.

  He comes in the next day. And the next. And the next. He always orders the same thing and we begin to get to know another. It’s clear he’s the Yin to my Yang, the sexy to my sweet.

  And, yes, I keep taking Kodiak’s photo without him knowing.

  After a week, I show Matilda the account and she thinks it’s a bit stalkerish, but I think of it as a public service. Why should I be the only one to enjoy looking at him as he takes a drink from his mocha, the whipped cream on his lips, giving every woman who follows the account a good reason to change her panties?

  After a month, I stop going on dates when asked out by other men. My eyes are only on him.

  After two, Matilda thinks I’ve gone off the deep end. She isn’t wrong.

  After three, I wish I were screwed. By him.

  Kodiak knows my favorite books, what music I like, and what season makes me all swoony--it’s summer, by the way. And I know all about him. He’s overly serious-- picture Mr. Darcy before he realized Lizzie was his HEA. When I can get him to smile, it’s a major win. He’s doesn’t get the The Bachelor and cant’ understand my emotional investment in the Kardashians, but he never judges me. And even though Matilda says a ten-year age difference is too big, I know that when Kodiak looks at me, he sees something he likes. A lot.

  I may be in the friend-zone, but I swear there is a spark on his end. There has to be, right? Still, he never leans over the counter as I make his drink and asks me if I’d like to hop on one of the mountain bikes that he sells at his bike shop and take a ride off into the sunset.

  So, sure, IRL we haven’t exactly sealed any sort of deal. But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view he offers on a daily basis when he strolls in here, getting his drink and a copy of the local newspaper, reading it cover to cover on his mid-morning break and then staring at the evidence for the next few hours.

  And there’s no rule on creating a social media account dedicated to the most perfect man you’ve ever met is there? It’s a compliment. Right?

  When Kodiak and I met, he told me about his long-distance girlfriend, which, I mean -- whatever. Of course, I won’t mind if she disappears; I’m not as crazy as I sound. As long as he’s happy, I’m happy. And taking secret pictures of him makes me very, very happy.

  It may have started as insta-love.

  But now, it’s Instagram-love.

  And it’s not just a hashtag, it’s the truth: Kodiak is my mountain man, and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

  2

  Kodiak

  "Just ask her out," Clive says to me over a beer on his back porch. His wife, Hazel, is putting their kids to bed and we’re shooting the shit. "Have her come out tomorrow night to the benefit."

  "You think?" I take a swig of my beer, considering it.

  "I know you’re scared of being burned by women, but you’ve been talking about this girl for months."

  "I’m not exactly her type," I say, thinking about Kensie; the cutest barista this side of Seattle.

  I’m not a coffee drinker, never have been.

  Until Kensie.

  I’d been standing on Main Street when I saw her for the first time. She was walking across the street, her blue apron around her waist, her long, light brown hair hanging past her shoulders. She had a bright pink scarf wrapped around her neck and a bouquet of daisies in her hands. She looked like sunshine in the dead of winter. And with the snow-capped mountains behind her, her blues eyes shone brightly, and she was so beautiful.

  I’d never seen her before, but one look was all it took to know I’d never forget her.

  "You’re not her type? What, she doesn’t like moody assholes?" Clive asks, laughing.

  "Exactly," I say shaking my head. "I’ve seen the kind of guys who hit on her. They are nothing but..."

  "Douchebags?"

  I grin. "Something like that."

  I’ve been burned more times than I can count. I spent years dating women who worked in offices in the city.

  Kensie is not like those women who wear power suits and carry briefcases. Nothing against that look, but Kensie has a phone case that reads, I Run on Coffee & Champagne. Not exactly corporate.

  She’s like a breath of fresh air.

  Yes, she’s younger than me by a decade.

  And yes, she’s funnier than me. She always makes me laugh.

  And yes, she knows more about pop culture than I do. Hell, no matter how many episodes of the Kardashians I watch late at night, I still don’t get the infatuation. Don’t worry, I only watch it to have something to talk to her about.

  But that is the reason I’m so into her. She’s everything I’m not.

  "Hey, a twenty-four-year-old hipster is not your competition," Clive tells me. "Show the girl what a real man is like."

  "I don’t know. When I come into the cafe, she’s always so bubbly, so friendly, and the idea of ruining that friendship? It fucking terrifies me."

  "If you know what you want, go after it."

  "Easy for you to say," I snort. Clive and his business partner and brother-in-law, Charlie, are always going off about how they fell in love after a week, or some shit.

  "Hey, you moved to Linesworth because you wanted to settle down, right?" Clive asks. "Build a life?"

  I nod, remembering how I felt the first time I pulled into this small Bavarian-themed town. It was the kind of place you could raise a family. The kind of place you could grow old.

  "Yeah," I tell him, peeling the label off my bottle of beer. "I was done with the grind of big city life and damn condos showing up on every block."

  “You don’t seem like a man who’d sell all his investments and stocks to take a chance on his dream one minute just to shy away from a challenge the next.”

  "Yeah," I say. "It was my dream. Your point?"

  "If you want to build a life here, you’ve gotta first put up or shut up."

  I chuckle, thinking he’s right.

  "So, you’ll ask her out?" he presses.

  I shrug, not willing to admit that I’m fucking shaking in my boots. What if she says no and I lose the one thing that gives me a reason to smile every damn day?

  "Hey, worst case scenario, she says no. Best case, you fucking marry the girl."

  I cock my eyebrow at the bastard, knowing he’s right.

  I walk into the coffee shop at ten-thirty, just like I always do. It’s the slowest time of her morning. There are never any customers that come in during this time, so I always get her undivided attention. Running a hand over my beard, I look the cafe over. Same soft leather chairs arranged around low tables, same hipsters on their laptops nursing a black coffee.

  And the same barista that I have come to know and love.

  Love.

  Damn, probably way too strong a word for a girl I’ve never so much as kissed. But what should I call it? She makes every day better. Just being around her lights up my goddamn day. It would be a lie to say I like her. The word hardly carries the right weight.

  "Hey, Kodiak," she says. "Nice shirt." She laughs, her voice filling this coffee shop with a sound that wakes me right up.

  "Your favorite, right?" I pull at the fabric. She says I should always wear dark grey; that it complements my green eyes. I’m not ashamed to admit I bought grey T-shirts in bulk after she made that comment.

  She gives me a big smile; the tops of her cheeks sparkle and her lips are painted soft pink. Damn, she looks like a cupcake, frosted with sprinkles. I want to take a bite.

  "Yes, but you look good in anything." She scrunches up her nose and gives me a shrug as she pours milk in a pitcher and begins to steam it. "You know that."

  Her words give me hope, but we always have flirty banter like this.

  But I need to take it up a notch. I need to take a goddamn chance on what I really want: her.

  "Well, you look
good in anything too, Kensie." I run a hand over my beard. "Though, I bet you look better when you wear nothing at all," I say, lifting my eyes to meet hers.

  Hers widened with shock, and it’s clear I’ve just fucked everything up. The pitcher in her hand begins to foam over, and she drops it, milk flying everywhere.

  "Oh, shit," she says waving her hands around as the pitcher clanks against the floor.

  "Are you burned?" I reach over the counter for her hand, taking it in mine.

  "Just scalded." She’s breathless, licking her lips, her eyes searching mine.

  I run my thumb over the red mark that is already fading. "Sorry. I shouldn’t have been so forward."

  She presses her lips together, but I see them twitching.

  "What?" I ask.

  "I liked what you said. it’s just... don’t you have a girlfriend?"

  I frown. "A girlfriend?"

  "Yeah, you said before that there was someone in Seattle that you’d been seeing?"

  Furrowing my brows, I try to figure out what she means. I’ve got nothing.

  "When you first moved to Linesworth, you said you were seeing a woman, that it was long distance?"

  "Oh, Linda?" I shake my head. "That’s ancient history. I ended things a few weeks after I moved here. She was all wrong for me. I suppose I was all wrong for her, too. Didn’t help that she posted screenshots of our break up all over social media. Who does that?"

  Kensie’s mouth drops into a little "O" and she runs her hands over her apron, looking at the milk mess. Reaching for a dish towel on the counter, she hesitates. “That seems… intense.”