The Mighty Quinns: Eli

“You don’t eat cheese,” he said. “You’re a vegan.”

“I’ve realized that cheese is quite possibly the most sublime food on the planet. And I only eat organic cheese from grass-fed, humanely pastured milk cows.”

“Next thing you’ll be telling me that you’re eating meat.”

“Bacon,” she said. “I mean, it’s really not meat. It’s fat. And it smells like sex feels. At my age, I just don’t think I should deny any of my urges. Life is short. We have to enjoy every single moment. That’s what Richard says.”

Eli rubbed his forehead, wondering at the sudden knot of tension beneath his fingertips. Maybe a beer—or five—was exactly what he needed right now. It appeared that a lot of things had changed since he’d last been home.

Leave it to his mother to involve them both in some silly reality show. The reality was that life in Trudie’s cabin was hard and lonely and it wasn’t a place for make-believe adventurers. He intended to let Lucy Parker know exactly what she was in for. And once she found out what a winter in the Rockies would be like, she’d want to run right back down the mountain.

* * *

LUCY PARKER ROLLED over on her bunk and winced at the ache in her shoulder. She’d spent the previous day stripping the bark from a tree she’d felled last week. It was backbreaking work, but all part of the process—the process of building her own shelter that would withstand the harsh winter.

She sat up and brushed the hair out of her eyes. This was the life she’d signed on for. A year in the wilderness, a year living life as Trudie Montgomery had. And the first task was to construct a small log cabin. She’d been on the mountain for exactly a month and had managed to gather enough logs for one wall of the ten-by-ten foot shelter she’d planned to build.

Her plans had undergone some revisions once she realized how heavy a twelve-foot tree could be. So she’d reduced the diameter of the trees she harvested to only those she could drag through the woods herself.

Though she was behind schedule, Lucy was certain that once her body got used to the specific labors involved, she’d pick up speed.

Her only companion in this adventure, her dog, Riley, was stretched out beside her on the old iron bed. When she sat up, he lifted his head. “I’d sleep much better if you’d stay on your side,” she muttered. He gave her a soft woof then leaped over her and scurried to the door.

She crawled out of bed, wrapping the old quilt around her to ward off the chill, then opened the front door of the cabin. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the amazing landscape around her. To the west were mountains—high, craggy, snow-covered peaks. To the east, thick forest and the foothills. The closest town was Stone Creek, twenty miles away by air, but hours by vehicle and foot. She’d come to the cabin via a helicopter that had landed in the wide green meadow to the south, a meadow now painted in the watercolor hues of the first wildflowers of the season.

Riley scratched at the screen door and she opened it. He ran out and she followed at a more leisurely pace. She’d put her watch away and sealed it in an old baking-powder tin, allowing her body to dictate the hours of the day. When she was hungry, she ate. When she was tired, she slept. And when it was time to work, she focused all her energy to push herself harder than she’d ever been pushed. She loved it.

Lucy drew a deep breath of the crisp morning air. Her year in the wild promised to be both a personal and a professional challenge, and she relished the chance to prove herself. She’d bounced around from job to job in television production for years, picking up jobs where she could and making enough to put herself through college. She’d read Trudie’s books when she was a teenager and had dreamed of a life spent alone, with nothing but her strength and wits to sustain her.

An offhand conversation with another producer had resulted in a proposal for a new reality show. She’d spend a year in the wilderness, following in the footsteps of famous feminist Trudie Montgomery. Amazingly, her proposal had been accepted, a production budget had been secured and on April first, Lucy had been left in the meadow with Riley and twenty crates of supplies to get her through the next twelve months.

All she had to do was provide at least fifteen hours of video footage per week, chronicling her efforts to survive in the wilderness, recording her thoughts on Trudie, her feminist ideals and the challenges she’d faced. Meanwhile, the producers were working to sell the series to a network.

Lucy had been given a battery-operated two-way radio to call for help in case of an emergency, a laptop computer with a satellite uplink to upload her video footage each week and a generator to charge both the video camera and laptop.

Figuring it should be charged now, she walked back inside and grabbed the video camera, then sat down on the top porch step and turned it toward herself. Pushing the record button, she smiled. “Hooray, hooray, it’s the third of May. I’ve been on the mountain for exactly one month and today, I’m going to have a visitor. Annalise Montgomery, Trudie’s daughter, has agreed to stop by once a month to check up on me and bring me a few supplies. And to chat with us. Those of you who’ve read Trudie’s books know that Trudie’s friend and lover, Buck Garrison, used to stop by every month with necessities, but there will be no men visiting me.”

Rachel McFarlane and Anna Conners, her two producers, had decided that the entire project, from production on down, should be run by women. The pair had produced an award-winning PBS special on the all-women’s America’s Cup racing crew several years before and were certain that it would be a positive message to send to the public and a good way to market the show to the networks when it came time to sell it.

“What do I need?” Lucy continued. “A few extra lanterns for the very dark mountain nights. Another pair of long underwear. Some heavier socks. And a new washboard to do laundry. I could also use some chocolate, but I didn’t put that on my list as I’ve decided to go cold turkey.” She paused. “Turkey. I’d also love a turkey sandwich. Canned meat has already lost its appeal.”

Riley’s bark caught her attention and Lucy trained the lens on the meadow, hoping to catch Annalise as she approached. In the distance, she made out a lone figure moving toward her. She tried to make out the details of Annalise’s face, then sucked in a sharp breath.

It wasn’t the slender figure of Annalise, but a tall, lanky man who approached. She noticed the rifle slung over his shoulder. He also carried a large frame pack, yet moved as if it weighed nothing.

Lucy had been in the wilderness for an entire month and this was the first visitor she’d had. Though she felt a small measure of excitement, this wasn’t the person she’d expected. Calling for Riley, she motioned the dog to her side and he sat down, his attention now fixed on the stranger. As the man approached the cabin, Lucy observed him more closely.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing hiking shorts and boots, a faded T-shirt, sunglasses and a cap that shaded his eyes. Thick, dark hair curled out from under the cap and the shadow of a beard darkened his face.

A tiny tremor raced through her. There was a reason why the production company had hired Annalise Montgomery to make the monthly visits, beyond the show’s premise. After a month of solitude, a single man—hell, any man—caused a riot of unsettling feelings inside of her, even if he might be a backwoods ax murderer.

Lucy suddenly realized how vulnerable she was, out here all alone. She set the camera down and grabbed the rifle from its spot just inside the door. Nestling the butt into her shoulder, she got the man in her sights. “Stop right there,” she shouted across the twenty yards that separated them. Riley growled softly.

Startled, he did as he was ordered, slowly raising his hands and watching her suspiciously. “Are you really planning to use that?” he shouted.

“I will if I have to.”

“Then nestle the stock into your shoulder and raise the muzzle up. Unless your intended target is the dirt five feet in front of me. Don’t tell me they didn’t even teach you to shoot properly.”

“What are you doing here?”

“The more appropriate question,” he muttered, starting toward her again, “would be what are you doing here?” He dropped his hands to the straps on his pack and hooked his thumbs beneath them.

She narrowed her gaze. “Who are you?”

“Annalise sent me,” he said. “I’ve brought some supplies. And I guess I’m supposed to make sure you haven’t done anything stupid, like starve to death or get eaten by a bear. You look healthy and I don’t see any teeth marks, so I assume you’re all right so far?”

Lucy stifled a smile as she set the gun down beside her. She stepped off the porch, suddenly curious about the man who’d wandered into her orbit. He slipped the pack off his back, then stretched his arms above his head. Then, in one smooth movement, he pulled his T-shirt over his head and used it to wipe the perspiration from his face.

Lucy bit back a moan as she took in his finely muscled chest and impossibly sculpted abdomen. Her fingers twitched as she imagined running her hands over the tanned skin, pressing her lips to the smooth expanse of naked skin.

This was crazy. She’d gone far longer than a month without a man in her life before. Why was she reacting so strongly to this guy now? Yes, he was gorgeous. And she hadn’t had any human contact for a month. But she should be able to control her reactions much better than this.

He cleared his throat and when she met his gaze, Lucy realized she’d been caught staring. “You shouldn’t be here,” she murmured. “Annalise agreed to come.”

“She thought I’d enjoy the fresh air and a good, long hike.”

“We had an agreement,” Lucy said.

“Well, if you knew anything about Annalise you’d understand that she’s rather flexible when it comes to promises and agreements.”

“We have a contract. This entire project is supposed to be run by women. Women producers, women editors. We want to make a statement. Exactly how Trudie would have wanted it.”

“How do you know what Trudie wanted?” he asked. “You never even met her.”

“And I suppose you did?” she asked, arching her eyebrow and leveling a cool gaze at him.

“I used to spend summers here with her,” he said. “I helped her put up the addition on the cabin and I built that outhouse all by myself.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Annalise had mentioned that she had a son, but she said he was away a lot and that they didn’t see much of each other. Cursing beneath her breath, she strode up to him and held out her hand. “You must be—”

“Eli,” he said after studying her for a long, uncomfortable moment. “Eli Montgomery. I’m Annalise’s son.”

“I’m Lucy Parker,” she said, sending him an apologetic smile. Of course the son of a woman like Annalise would be as handsome as she was beautiful. And he’d have to love the outdoors.

He took her hand in his and gave it a shake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said.

He took off his sunglasses, letting them hang from the strap around his neck, and she found herself transfixed by eyes so blue, they rivaled the sky above. They stared at each other warily, like two wild animals deciding between fight or flight.

“You must have left very early to get here before noon,” she said.

“I move fast,” he said.

A shiver skittered down her spine and she drew her fingers from his.

“For most people, it’s a four-hour hike,” he explained. “I can do it in three. And if I’m going to make the round trip before sunset, I wanted to be here by noon.”

“You’re going to leave right away?”

He frowned. “Yeah. I guess I didn’t think you’d want me to stick around. Why? You need something? You want me to stay?”

“No, no. You’re right. You really should go. The whole point of this project is for me to live life like Trudie did.”

“Trudie had lots of visitors,” he said.

“In that case, maybe you could you stay for lunch?” She gave him a tentative smile. “To be honest, it would be nice to have some company. Even for just an hour. And as long as you don’t do any of the cooking, I guess it won’t break any rules.”

“There are rules?”

“Guidelines, really. An entire notebook filled with them. I can’t accept any outside help, beyond the monthly check-in.”

“All right,” he said. “I’ll stay. Under one condition.”

“What would that be?”

“You let me show you how to handle that rifle.”

“I know how to handle it. They gave me lessons at a shooting range in LA.”

“Even so, I’d like to show you myself.”

Lucy sighed. “All right. We’ll do that after lunch.” She glanced down at what she was wearing, realizing for the first time that she must look like some kind of crazy lady. “I’m just going to get dressed. Is there anything you need? I can—” Lucy paused. “I guess you remember where everything is. Just make yourself comfortable.”

She hurried back inside the cabin and slammed the door behind her. Leaning against the rough planks, she drew a deep breath. “Stop it!” she muttered. This was ridiculous.

She’d come here, to this remote mountain cabin, to prove that a woman didn’t need a man to find peace and contentment in the world. And here she was, panting over Eli Montgomery like he’d come specifically to seduce her.

He was delivering supplies and nothing more. Just because he had a nice smile and a charming manner did not mean he wanted to pick her up, wrap her legs around his waist and do the nasty.

“Show some self-control,” Lucy said to herself, pushing off the door.

Still, as she searched the cabin for something decent to wear, she discarded anything that might make her look lumpy. In the end, she settled for yoga pants and a simple chambray shirt that she knotted at the waist.

For the first time since she arrived, she regretted the lack of a mirror in the cabin. It was something that Trudie had prided herself on—the ability to grow comfortable with her natural appearance. Lucy grabbed a brush and quickly ran it through her hair. “Forgive me, Trudie,” she murmured, pinching her cheeks to give herself a bit of color.

When she opened the door again, Eli was sitting on the porch, Riley stretched out beside him. He’d unpacked the supplies he’d brought along, laying them out on the floor. “Is that chocolate?” she asked.

“It is. My mother thought you might need it, but I can take it back down with me if you don’t want it.”

She reached down and grabbed the package of chocolate bars. “Not a chance, mister. Now, if you’d also brought me a triple-shot caramel latte, I might have kissed you.”

“Nope,” he said with a grin. “But I’ll remember that next month.”

* * *

ELI HADN’T PLANNED to spend any time at the cabin. He’d been irritated that his mother had rented out the property, especially for a dumb reality television show, and he wasn’t really looking forward to meeting the new tenant. But then he’d gotten a good look at Lucy Parker.

He’d expected some fortysomething feminist, a woman experienced with life and ready to prove a point to anyone who might be interested. He’d imagined someone like his grandmother, not some sweet-faced, doe-eyed woman with a disarming smile and an amazing body.

It was clear why they’d picked her for the job. Even dressed in raggedy clothes with her hair tangled, she was drop-dead beautiful. She wasn’t wearing a bit of makeup to enhance her features and yet, she had a beauty that was unmatched by any woman he’d ever met.

Her skin was flawless, pale and smooth, and her lips were as pink as ripening fruit. Her hair, thick and flaxen in color, tumbled around her face in a style that was best reserved for the bedroom immediately after sex.

Eli had been prepared to hate her, or at least dislike her for underestimating the harsh reality of living on the mountain. But she was so determined to honor Trudie with this project that he found himself carried along by her enthusiasm. Still, he was worried about her preparedness. Before he could walk away, he needed to know that she’d be fine out here all by herself.

In the meantime, he tried his best to ignore the attraction pulsing between them. She’d made it very clear that the last thing she wanted was a man. He wouldn’t be chopping her firewood, he wouldn’t be digging her garden and he wouldn’t be warming her bed. But maybe there was one thing he could do for her.

He picked up the sandwich that Lucy had made for him and took a bite. The rustic bread was freshly baked and she’d slathered homemade hummus on it, flavored with garlic and roasted red peppers. “This is delicious,” he said.

“Thanks.” She pulled her knees up beneath her chin. “I put a lot of time and effort into my menu. If I think a lot about food, I can contain my cravings.”

“And what do you crave?” he asked. “Besides a caramel latte? And chocolate?”

“Potato chips. Ice cream. Pizza. I dream about pizza.”

“Well, you’re about an eight-hour hike from a really great pizza parlor. Maybe you could get them to deliver,” he teased.

“I expected to miss food. And all my electronics. Television and movies. But what I really miss is people. It’s so quiet here at night it almost makes my ears hurt. I don’t know what I’d do without Riley.” She drew a deep breath. “And fruit. I miss fresh fruit.”

“There will be places you can get that around here later this summer,” he said. “About a mile in that direction are two apple trees that were planted near the foundation of an old cabin. And over there, along that ridge, are blackberry bushes, but watch out for bears because they like them as much as humans do. There are also wild plum and boysenberry trees nearby. Trudie used to make the best jam.”

He wanted to show her, to tell her everything that he knew to help her survive and make her stay more bearable. But he remembered her very strict set of rules. “I’d draw you a map, but you’d probably rip it up and throw it in the fire.”

She nodded, then pushed to her feet. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

He wanted to ask if she’d let him run his fingers through her hair, or smooth his hand over her cheek. He wanted to stare into her eyes and memorize the color so he might recall it later. Most of all, he wanted to kiss her and see if the attraction he felt was mutual or just some silly fantasy that he was experiencing on his own.

“Get me your rifle,” he said. “And bring a box of ammunition.”

“What are you going to shoot?” she said, glancing around. “Is there a bear?”

“No. We’re just going to have a little target practice,” he said. “Humor me. I want to be sure you could shoot a bear if you had to.”

Lucy grudgingly produced the rifle. She was clearly not happy with him for forcing the issue but she was smart enough to realize that a little extra instruction with the rifle could save her life if she did encounter a bear or some other wild animal.

Over the next half hour, they set up targets in the meadow, nailing flattened tin cans to the trunks of aspen trees.

“I am curious about that pile of logs over there,” Eli said, nodding to the west of the cabin. “I notice you’ve been stripping them. They’ll burn fine with the bark.”

“Those aren’t for the fire. I’m building a cabin.”

Eli chuckled. “No, really.”

“Really,” she said. “Your grandmother built this cabin all on her own. I want to do the same.”

“Yes, she built it. Over the course of two or three summers. With the help of friends and two horses.”

“I don’t have any horses,” she said. “And I don’t have friends. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.”

Eli tacked a tin can to the tree trunk, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing out here? You seem to have some kind of delusion—or maybe it’s a fantasy—of what wilderness life is like.” He continued on to the next tree.

“I have your grandmother’s books,” she said, hurrying after him. “And I’ve done my homework. I know it’s difficult, but that only makes me more determined to do it.”

“To what end? Trudie already proved that it was possible. Why do you need to build a cabin all over again? Is it meant to make you famous?” He held out his hand and she gave him another tin can. “How the hell did you get these logs here?”

“I dragged them,” she said.

He stared at her in disbelief.

“I have to find just the right circumference and length. I was going to make a fourteen-by-fourteen cabin like your grandmother, but those logs are too heavy. So I’ve reduced it to ten-by-ten and I’m using six-inch diameter logs.” She held up her hand. “I know. It’ll take more logs, but I’m going to do it. And for your information, it has nothing to do with being famous. I’m doing this for myself.”

Eli couldn’t help but admire her tenacity. The process she described was brutal and backbreaking. He grabbed her hands and turned them over, only to see the shadows of healed blisters and new calluses. He ran his thumbs over the rough surface and he heard her take a ragged breath.

“You need a pair of gloves,” he said.

She nodded. “I have a pair but they don’t fit very well. And I accidentally left them out in the rain.”

Eli gently massaged her palm and his blood warmed. When he looked up and met her wide-eyed gaze, he realized what he was doing and dropped her hand. “You have a lot of work to do if you’re going to finish it before the first snow,” he said

“I can do it,” Lucy said. “I’m learning more every day and getting better at each of the tasks.”

“Can I give you some advice?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. You can’t. It would be...cheating.”

“This isn’t a game, princess,” he said. “I don’t see any referees around here.”

“I am going to do this on my own. I want the project to have integrity. I need to make my own mistakes.”

“It will be a costly mistake when you drag logs through thick underbrush because you didn’t want to let me tell you to get your logs cut and hauled early.”

She clapped her hands to her ears and shook her head, sending him an angry glare. “No!”

He cursed softly and shook his head. “Listen, I’m dead serious. The last thing I want to do is hike up here and find the vultures picking at your carcass. I know that’s crude, but it’s a reality in the mountains, especially when you’re alone.”

“I’m careful. And prepared.”

“Then let’s see it.” He strode over to where he’d left the rifle and shells and walked back to her. “Pace it off. We’ll start with twenty paces.”

He followed her as she did as he ordered, then stood behind her. “If you come across a bear, stop and keep your eyes on the ground. Slowly bring your gun around, but keep it pointed down. Do that for me now.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders, squaring her body to the target. But the moment he touched her, he realized his mistake. Suddenly, he couldn’t focus on the shooting lesson. Instead, he was fascinated by the warm flesh beneath the fabric of her shirt and the gentle curve between her shoulder and neck. The scent of her hair drifted on the breeze and he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to identify the floral variety.

“When you bring your rifle up, it’s important to stabilize it by pulling the butt into your shoulder with your cheek against the stock. Same place every time, nice and solid. If you do that, sighting your target shouldn’t take long.”

He reached around her and showed her how to hold the gun. His blood surged and his pulse quickened, but he forced himself to ignore the reaction and focus on the job at hand.

“Now, sight the target and when you have it, squeeze the trigger.”

A few seconds later, a shot exploded out of the muzzle and Lucy winced. “Did I hit it?”

“Nope.”

“But I always hit the target at the range.”

“Shooting at the range is a lot different than shooting when a bear is charging you. Or even with the wind blowing and the trees rustling. That can is about the size of the spot you need to hit to down a bear.”