Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
“You need to get yourself together.”
“I need to get out of town.”
Megan sighs as she stares at me. “You need to get laid.”
“Yeah,” I say as I drop my head in exasperation. “That too.”
I’m dying for it. Ever since Richard dumped me. I don’t know what it was, but when I split with that lovely gay man something woke up inside me. Some dark horny she-beast that is desperate for some action. It’s all I can think about lately.
I’m a twenty-four-year-old virgin and I’m ready to give up that title for good.
“What about the mountains?” Megan says.
“Mountains? What about them?”
“You’re always talking about wanting to move to the mountains,” she says. “You have mountain pictures all over your apartment. And you got that tattoo!”
I touch the side of my ribs over my horrific female tuxedo jacket that I rented from a dilapidated store beside a gas station.
I got the tattoo three years ago. It’s my favorite quote by John Muir: The Mountains Are Calling And I Must Go.
My heart starts beating a little harder as I perk up in my seat. I’ve always felt drawn to the mountains. They’ve always called to me.
Richard never understood my fascination with them. He never wanted to go.
But now, I have no excuse. I have nothing holding me back.
“Okay,” I say to Megan with a firm nod. “Okay!”
“Okay, what?”
“The mountains are calling,” I say as I stand up on wobbly legs, “and I must go.”
“Whoa!” she says, grabbing me when I nearly tip over. “Maybe you should go to the coffee station first.”
“Coffee first!” I say with a determined grin. “Then the mountains!”
Chapter One
Ashley
“You must be Ashley Botter!” a middle-aged man with messy salt and pepper hair says with a huge smile on his face. “I’m Mitch!”
I look behind me in confusion, even though I’m probably the only Ashley Botter in the nearest thousand miles. He just seems so friendly and excited to see me, which makes me think he’s certainly got me confused with someone else. Where I come from, strangers are never excited to meet you. Annoyed, cautious, and hostile, yes, but never excited.
“I’m from the Greene Mountain Lodge!” he says with his big wide blue eyes sparkling in joy. “I’m driving you there!”
“Okay,” I say as I walk out of the train station and follow him to his van. The logo of the resort is on the door, so the odds of him being a serial killer are low. I hope.
He puts my bags in the trunk and opens the door for me.
“Oh, the front seat,” I say as I reluctantly get in. “How nice.”
He closes it and is singing to himself as he walks around to the driver’s side.
This place is so different. I’m from New Jersey and I’m forced to make the horrific commute to Manhattan three times a week for work, so I’m used to city people. Mean, angry, never-smile-unless-they’re-trying-to-steal-your-wallet city people.
The people here are so dang happy. And why not? Look at these breathtaking mountains, the crisp summer air, the feeling of peace in your soul. This place is magical.
“What brings you to Montana?” Mitch asks as he starts driving.
“Oh, you know… just needed a vacation.”
“Well, you came to the right place,” he says with a warm genuine smile. “You’re going to love it here. You won’t want to leave.”
“I think you’re right about that,” I say as he pulls into the adorable mountain town. The streets are made of cobblestone and the shops all have that warm inviting look like they were designed by a Hallmark movie character.
I’m enchanted by the town. I’m in awe of it.
The delicious inviting smell of freshly baked bread hits my nose as we drive by the cute little bakery. My mouth waters as I make a note to return and get some warm savory goodies tomorrow.
This place is amazing. It’s so wholesome and inviting. The post office is a tiny building with a red door and an old-timey hand-painted sign.
The cozy restaurants have folded chalkboards on the sidewalks with the specials written in chalk and patios where friendly locals are hopping from table to table, catching up on the town news.
I love it here. It’s perfect.
“You gotta try the fish and chips at McArthur’s,” Mitch says as he points to a cute little restaurant with a full-size grizzly bear carved out of wood beside the front door. “Tell the waitress April I sent you and she’ll give you a free apple pie.”
I smile as we drive past it. He knows the waitress’ name. I’ve never, in all my life, known a waiter or waitress’ name.
“So, what do you plan on doing out here?” Mitch says as we drive out of the town and head up a mountain road. The trees around here are unreal. They’re so freaking high. I keep looking up at them in awe.