Mountain Manhattan_Mountain Man in the Big City Read online

  The only thing I figure is a deal he couldn’t refuse. In the real world, money talks.

  “Actually, there is. I was just telling Mia how I have an event tonight, but no date. I was trying to convince her to accompany me, seeing as she knows the city so well and I’ve only just arrived.”

  “A gala?” Mr. Roller looks at me closer as if he is trying to determine what kind of guy I am. Despite myself, I find I’m straightening my shoulders, grinning a little wider. Wanting this old man to approve of me. “Mia, you ought to go with Mr. Thatcher. He seems like a good one, and God knows you deserve a little fun in your life.”

  Mia shakes her head. “I can’t. I mean, I have––”

  “You’ll always have things to do. Remember our talk the other day? Don’t miss out on the good things. There are no guarantees they’ll come back around.” He squeezes her shoulders and then walks away.

  Mia softens as if Hugh Roller’s words are the balm she needs to soothe her worry. Turning to me, those vivid green eyes capturing the light of the chandelier, she asks, “How fancy is this gala?”

  “Fancy enough that I have to wear the tux. Bullshit, right?”

  She smiles. “You really are from the woods, aren’t you? I’m guessing it’s black tie.”

  It’s impossible not to grin. Hell, when’s the last time a woman made me smile so damn much? “Whatever you say, Mia.”

  “So, what time should I be ready?”

  “A car will be here at seven.”

  She looks me up and down as if judging my leather boots, my Carhartt jacket, and flannel shirt.

  “What?” I tease. “You have a problem going out with a real man? Prefer Manhattan douchebags in their three-piece suits?”

  Mia bites the side of her mouth. “Won’t you be one of those douchebags in a tux tonight?” She smiles mischievously.

  “So, you’ll be my date for this uptight affair?”

  She twists her lips. I can’t tell if she’s playing hard to get, or genuinely unsure if she wants to go out tonight.

  I lean toward her. “Worst case scenario, the party is a bust and you take me to one of your favorite places in the city.”

  That pushes her over the edge.

  “It’s a date,” she says. “I can’t wait to show a mountain man the beauty that is Manhattan.”

  I take the room key, tapping it against the counter, thinking that the beauty of Manhattan isn’t outside these doors.

  It’s right in front of me.

  3

  Ford

  A few hours later I’m back in the lobby, waiting for Mia to arrive. When she steps into the foyer, it’s impossible to look anywhere else. Other hotel guests turn, taking her in. An older man sets down his suitcase, jaw dropped. I smile, thinking this old man has good taste.

  She doesn’t notice us at all, though. She’s glued to her phone, her thumbs moving as she texts.

  Frowning, I walk toward her. It’s not that I’m anti-tech, it’s just that I’ve never had much use for it. She’s so lost in her hand-held device that her heel catches on a rug, throwing her, and her phone, in the air.

  I catch them both.

  “That’s quite an entrance,” I say, not minding her fall if it means she’s in my arms. Her bare shoulders reveal a graceful collarbone. While her porcelain skin may appear fragile, she isn’t meek or mild. One look at her tells me that and more.

  “Put me down.” Her eyes are fiery. “Seriously. This dress is so short I’m gonna flash half the city.”

  I grin. “Sounds like the perfect way to start an evening.”

  “Ha. Ha,” she says flatly, but the twinkle in her eye tells me she doesn’t really mind having my arms wrapped around her.

  I may live in the woods but I’m a fucking gentleman. Setting her down, I watch as she runs her hands down the front of her dress to smooth out the wrinkles caused by her fall, and then straightens her hair. The dark blue dress is short, but so is Mia, so it doesn’t look too revealing. It looks damn good. It’s not form fitting, which is a shame, but when she turns around, I see the low back scoops to right above her hips.

  “You gonna be able to walk in those?” I look down at her feet. The heels are four inches, and yet she’s still barely eye level to my chest.

  “These ol’ things?” She laughs playfully. “I borrowed them from my sister. She even made this dress. Impressive, right?”

  I nod. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” she says, tousling her black hair, not realizing that it makes her look like she’s just been laid. It’s fucking hot. “My evening attire usually consists of sweatpants and tank tops. Not exactly black tie.”

  “Well, you clean up nice, Mia,” I say, offering her my arm. We head outside where a town car is waiting for us. Before we slip in, she turns to face me.

  “You do too, Ford. Not douchey at all.” Then she grins before climbing in.

  And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t check out her ass as she did.

  ––––—

  An hour later, I’m about ready to lose my mind. I can handle one-on-one conversations most of the time—but the bullshit small talk in this ballroom is painful. All around us, there are guests name dropping and gossiping. It’s like everyone came out just to be seen.

  “You look like you could use a drink,” Mia declares, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the open bar. “One Manhattan and one glass of champagne,” she orders.

  “Uh, no way. I’m a whiskey neat kind of man.”

  She just shakes her head and smiles. “I’ll make you order one eventually, you realize that, right?”

  With glasses in hand, we survey the massive room. A string quartet plays in the corner, but it doesn’t seem to relax anyone. Everyone is on high alert, eyes darting around as if looking for the next new thing.

  I would love to duck out and drink this Manhattan in peace and quiet, with Mia by my side, of course. Instead, every few minutes someone comes up and introduces themselves.

  I’m Mayor Gustav’s staunchest supporter.

  What you did saving that boy’s life! A miracle!

  Are you single?

  Apparently, I’m not chatty enough because Mia keeps pinching my arm. Truth is the women who stop to talk keep mentioning my appearance, going so far as to offer me their numbers and ask if I need a tour guide. Which is fucking obnoxious considering my hot as hell date is standing three inches away.

  I dismiss them all. I plan on having Mia show me everything.

  “You’re being kinda cold, Ford,” she says as we head to the bar for a refill. “Is that like, your thing? Sexy asshole?”

  I straighten my shoulders. “You think I’m sexy?”

  She snorts, raising her champagne flute. “You’re ridiculous. You could be a little friendlier is all I’m trying to say. Try to engage with your adoring fans.”

  “To those cougars on the prowl? No thanks. Besides, it’s a little bold of them considering you’re standing right next to me.”

  “They weren’t all cougars. And I’m not territorial over men I’ve just met.”

  Leaning over, I whisper in her ear. “Then I guess we’ll have to spend some more time together.”

  I pull back and see Mia lick her lips, then sigh into her empty champagne flute. My cock stiffens. Nice to know this attraction is not a one-way street.

  When a woman identifying herself as a reporter for the New York Times comes over, Mia smiles warmly, introducing herself as my date.

  Good.

  “You did such a remarkable thing, saving Luke’s life,” the reporter says.

  I shrug. “I was in the right place at the right time.”

  “Truly fascinating.” She goes on, “I can only imagine the moment you found Luke hanging there in a life or death situation. Tell me, what went through your mind?” She has a pen and paper in hand and I clench my jaw, looking over at Mia who is listening intently.

  “I thought I should help the kid.” God knows I won’t tell her wh
at else I was thinking — that I would save that kid because I couldn’t save the last one.

  The reporter nods thoughtfully as if I’m saying something profound. “So very brave, and how did that feel?”

  I snort, is she kidding me with this? I felt like the kid was an idiot, hiking in a place he didn’t belong, and he got stuck at the crux. He was free climbing a mountain he didn’t know, thinking he was invincible.

  Still, I remember being soaked in sweat, heart racing, knowing I couldn’t let the young man die.

  I’d watched it happen before.

  I couldn’t let it happen again.

  My biceps tightened as my muscles worked to pull him up and drag him over the cliff’s edge.

  He gasped for breath, relief written on his face, while adrenaline coursed through my veins.

  But if this woman thinks I’m gonna tell her all that, she’s barking up the wrong tree. I’m having a goddamn drink with my date and replaying the events that led to saving Luke isn’t on the table.

  “And now you’ve been commissioned for a sculpture in Central Park, is that right?”

  I raise an eyebrow. Of course, it’s right. Why the hell else would I be here?

  Before I answer, Mayor Gustavo begins speaking into a microphone at the podium up front.

  “Thank you, everyone, for joining us today as we celebrate a heroic act of bravery. Ford Thatcher saved the life of our son, and we are forever in his debt. With that in mind, Ford, please join me on stage.”

  I suck in a deep breath, not interested in being front and center.

  “Go on,” Mia says prodding me. I scowl, but then she pinches my ass and, with a newfound smile, I do as she says.

  On stage, Rex Gustavo shakes my hand, then with tears his eyes, he gives me a warm hug. “Thank you,” he says. “On behalf of my family, thank you.”

  Okay, enough warm and fuzzy bullshit. I look out across the crowd and see Mia. She’s pulled out her phone and is taking my photo. Great.

  “We also wanted to reveal more about the sculpture Ford will be creating for us in Central Park over the next several weeks,” Gustavo says, addressing the crowd. A banner falls behind us, revealing the name of the project: GROWTH.

  I try not to roll my eyes at the attendees’ oohing and ahhing.

  “When I was researching more about Ford, our modern-day hero,” Gustavo says, “I discovered that he is a renowned metal sculpture artist in Colorado. Commissioning him became a passion project of mine, as a way for him to leave an imprint on the great city of New York. Just like he has on my family.”

  Everyone claps, and I nod, wanting to get off the stage. At least five hundred people are watching, and I have no interest in being in the limelight.

  “Would you like to share a few words about the project, Ford?”

  Shit, I wasn’t expecting this.

  “Uh, I’m ready to get to work.”

  The mayor smiles, “Right, and what is the inspiration for your piece?”

  Looking back at the banner, “Growth, mostly?”

  The crowd laughs, and the mayor nods warmly. “Great, and how do you plan to show that?”

  Fuck. Is this the Grand Inquisition?

  “I’ll use a variety of materials to depict the theme.” I’m an artist, not a wordsmith.

  The mayor nods. “Wonderful. I’ve always viewed New York City as a place where people can grow into the person they were meant to be. Can’t wait to see what you do.”

  Finally, I’m able to leave the stage. But the mayor’s words are blaring alarm bells in my head. This concrete jungle isn’t the place for anything to grow, let alone flourish. How the hell am I going to make a sculpture of a place I don’t understand?

  I can’t exactly think about that now though because Mia beams at me.

  “You really expressed yourself up there.” She smirks, handing me another drink.

  “I work with my hands, I don’t wax poetic.”

  “I’m surprised, you being an artist and all.” She looks up at me, tapping her finger on her luscious lip. “I always thought artists were supposed to be sensitive, emotional types.”

  I take her hand and pull her to me. She fits in my arms perfectly. “That’s what you think, huh?”

  She smiles conspiratorially. “Either that or unattached hermits.”

  “Are you always this charming?” She laughs, heat on her cheeks. I cock an eyebrow toward the exit. “Now, will you take me out of here and show me the appeal of this town? I have a sculpture to build and don’t know where the fuck to start.”

  “Wow,” she laughs. “You could mention wanting to spend more time in my company, ya know. Spinning it as a work thing doesn’t really get me all hot and bothered.”

  I lower my mouth, nearly bringing her lips to mine. “And what gets you in the mood, Mia?”

  She moans playfully. “Chinese food.” She licks her lips again and with her body pressed against mine, I’m getting too hard for this public place. “Wontons. Sticky rice. Eggrolls.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Really big eggrolls.”

  “You’re a tease, you know that?”

  “No. I just get hangry.” She pats my cheek, not giving in to the passionate kiss I was hoping for. “And right now, this champagne is getting to me.”

  “In that case, let’s get you fed.”

  I take her hand but let her lead the way.

  For now.

  Later, I’ll give her more than take-out.

  4

  Ford

  Outside, the sky is dark but the lights that flash everywhere mask whatever stars are out.

  Stepping on the sidewalk, we pass overflowing trashcans and people asking for money. Mia reaches into her purse and gives a few dollars to a homeless woman who thanks her.

  “Stay safe,” Mia says, and then nestles into the crook of my arm. “It’s kinda cold for May.”

  “Good thing you got me.”

  “Wow,” Mia laughs as I squeeze her. “Emotionally unavailable, yet cheesy.”

  I smile. Even though this city has me feeling down, with Mia in my arms, it’s impossible to not feel at least a little optimistic about this place.

  Mia picks the restaurant and places our to-go order and then I suggest we check out the location of my sculpture.

  “That sounds amazing.” She beams up at me like she hasn’t been out in a long time and doesn’t want the night to end. Considering Mr. Roller’s words earlier, I guess it’s the truth, but how is that possible? Mia is the kind of woman men should be fighting over.

  A while later, our Chinese food take-out containers in hand, we are sitting on a bench in Central Park. Even though there are no stars to be seen in the night sky, sitting here with Mia I don’t feel so far from home. In fact, this spot suits me just fine.

  “So, this is where the magic is going to happen,” she says, taking in the empty space.

  “A blank canvas,” I tell her.

  “Is it intimidating?” she asks. “I can’t imagine having so much choice. Freedom. You can literally do whatever you want and you’re getting paid for it. You realize how lucky you are, right?”

  I shake my head, pulling open the white box of orange chicken. Breaking apart a pair of chopsticks, I answer her question. “Lucky, sure, but it’s a lot of pressure. This sculpture is going to be in Central fucking Park. Right now, I make stuff for people I know. Have a few art shows here and there, but it’s all on my own terms.”

  “And now everyone in the world will have the opportunity to critique whatever you make.” She pushes her lips forward, chopsticks between her fingers, pointing them at me like she has me all figured out. “You make more sense now.”

  “Oh yeah, how so?” I eat, not realizing I was so hungry. But it seems that being with Mia has invigorated me.

  “You have this whole cocky, borderline asshole, thing going on as a way to protect yourself.”

  I snort. “So, besides being a concierge, you’re also a psychologist?”

  She sh
akes her head, laughing in a way that tells me she doesn’t take this too seriously. It’s refreshing to be around a woman who’s comfortable in her own skin like this, she seems independent and that’s a characteristic I find really appealing. Too many women have clung on to me for validation, but Mia isn’t asking for that. She’s just making conversation.

  “No, I went to school for hotel management,” she explains. “But I am a people person. It’s my job to help people, to make sure I understand where they are coming from so I can give them what they want.”

  “And what do I want?”

  “You want to play it safe because you’re scared of failure. But you also want respect. Which is good, so long as you keep your priorities straight.”

  I pull back, looking Mia over. “Woman, are you like this on every first date?”

  She laughs, shoveling noodles into her mouth. “I don’t go on many first dates.”

  “Shocking, really,” I say, my voice deadpan. “My priorities are straight, just for the record. I’m not doing this project for fame or fortune, but the opportunity felt too good to pass up. That’s why I’m here, Mia.”

  “I get that. And it’s really pretty amazing when you think about it. Not many people have had permanent art installations in the Park.”

  I look out at the site where I will begin building this week. It’s been cleared, the land is bare, and I know that tomorrow a crate of my tools and metal will be delivered. This portion of the park will become a construction zone for the next eight weeks. Scaffolding and barriers will be put up to protect the project, yet the entire thing will be a work-in-progress that is open to the public to watch as I build.

  No fucking pressure.

  “Enough about me,” I say. “What about you. Are your priorities straight?”

  She nods slowly. “I think so. I’ve had to grow up pretty fast, so I haven’t had a lot of opportunities for my priorities to get out of whack.”

  Knowing that I hate talking about myself before I’m ready, I don’t press her on what forced her to grow up fast. Instead, I give her a hard time about her word choice.