Haley's Mountain Man. Tracy Madison

drinker, or … Okay. Something less boring. Something less … predictable. Maybe she should just faint dead away at his feet and hope he’d pick her up and carry her off to wherever he lived and … and … have his way with her?

      Really? She shook her head, tried to erase the image, but the darn thing refused to vanish. Warmth flooded her cheeks and dripped down her neck. A tight ball of heat gathered in her stomach, low and heavy and almost throbbing in its intensity, reminding her of how long it had been since she’d last experienced that particular sensation.

      Desire. Longing. The need to be touched.

      And wow, wasn’t it just awesome that she’d have this experience now, here in the middle of the freaking coffee shop, over a man she barely knew, after the briefest, most innocent of encounters? Pitiful. Embarrassing. Maybe even a little sad.

      But also … interesting? Yes, that, too.

      The line moved again while she pondered, considering the complexities and the simplicities of the signals her body seemed hell-bent on sending her way. A chemical response, surely, since she didn’t know Gavin. She didn’t know where he came from, what his goals were, what his favorite foods were. She knew he skied, considered himself able to teach others how to ski. She knew he’d moved into the area sometime before December.

      And that was the sum of her knowledge.

      So, okay. A chemical response. Nothing more, nothing less. Her eyes traveled the length of him, from his untucked charcoal flannel shirt, to his denim-covered legs, to his heavy leather hiking boots. Easy to see all were clean. Well-worn, too. The jeans, the shirt, they fit his body as if he’d been wearing them, had worked and played in them, for so long that they’d formed to his shape. No other man would be able to wear those jeans and that shirt quite so well.

      She looked up and up, and up some more. His hair was straight, except for the slight wave at the ends, and fell a few inches below his collar. Either he’d put off going to the barber or he was in that awkward growing-out stage. Probably the former. She tried to determine the accurate word for the color of his hair. Brown did the job, she supposed, but it wasn’t nearly enough. In her mind, brown in and of itself was a flat, drab shade, holding little depth, little light, little of interest. But Gavin’s hair was filled with light. It was thick and lustrous, rich with hues of chestnut and coffee, chocolate and cinnamon, and the odd golden strand here and there.

      So, no. Brown didn’t begin to cut it.

      Beautiful, maybe. And she couldn’t stop herself from wondering if that straight line of beautiful hair was as soft to the touch as it looked.

      Sad and pitiful, for sure, to be gawking at a stranger’s hair and wishing she could touch it. Haley shook her head and forcibly pulled herself out of her inane thoughts. Maybe Suzette had been right all along. Maybe a date with Matt the teacher was exactly what she needed.

      The line moved again, and the standoffish woman gave her order. For whatever reason, Lola didn’t drop into her normal banter, just asked what type of milk the woman wanted and prepared the cappuccino. The woman accepted her coffee, paid and stepped away quickly, without so much as a glance in either Gavin’s or Haley’s direction.

      And that also struck Haley as sad. Why, though, she couldn’t say.

      Gavin approached the counter, stopped and turned to face Haley again. This time, she noticed his eyes. Good Lord, the man had a gorgeous set of peepers. Again, she had to search for the right description. They were gray, except they weren’t. And they were blue, except not really that, either. She sighed. Mostly gray with the barest hint of blue. If a name for that exact color, in that precisely right combination of gray and blue existed, she didn’t know what it was.

      Beautiful would have to suffice there, as well.

      “Your turn,” she said, trying desperately to stop staring into his eyes.

      “Actually,” he said in a low drawl that made her skin tingle, her pulse hum, “you should go first. I might be a few minutes. Need to talk with Lola about a … Well, you should go first.”

      “No, no. I’m fine.” If she went first, she’d have to walk away, and she wasn’t quite ready to walk away. “You’re ahead of me. That’s the way lines work.”

      He squinted his eyes, looked as if he were going to argue, but in the end just shrugged his shoulders and nodded. Faced front again, and set the clipboard on the counter. When he spoke, it was in that deep rumble, so low she had to block out every other sound in order to hear him.

      “I’ll take one of those hazelnut lattes, large,” he said. “And I was hoping you might have the time to hear me out on something. If not now, I can wait. Or come back another day.”

      “How long you needing?” Lola asked, her tone friendly and curious.

      “Not long. Shouldn’t need much, I don’t think.”

      Nodding, Lola went to the espresso machine, saying, “Go on, then. I’m listening.”

      “Right. Okay.” His spine straightened another fraction and he released a breath. “Well, I’m not sure if you knew this, but for the past year, more really, even before officially moving here, I’ve been working real hard on learning the area and getting all the required licenses. So I can guide folks on hikes and white-water rafting trips, and maybe some climbing—” He paused, drew in another breath. “I have everything in order now. For the summer season, and winter, too, for next season. Skiing and such.”

      “That’s an accomplishment, all right,” Lola said. “Good for you.”

      “Thank you. So now that I have all the paperwork set, I’m in need of customers, and I don’t really know a lot of the locals yet. Which is why I’m here. I thought I’d check in with you, maybe see if you would be interested in—”

      “Me?” Lola inserted with a chuckle. “If I had even a quarter of a mind to go white-water rafting or hiking, I’m sure you’d make an excellent guide. Truth of the matter is, those days are about a decade behind me.” Still chuckling, she steamed the milk while the machine pumped out a double shot of espresso. “Sweet, though, you’d think to ask, and I appreciate it.”

      “Ah … Well, see. I didn’t mean it exactly in that fashion, but I don’t believe you’re ever too … or rather, that it’s ever too late to enjoy nature,” he said, stumbling around his words. “But that wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

      It was, Haley decided, very cute. Sweet, even, both his nerves and his earnestness.

      Lola grabbed a bottle from the rack of flavored syrups and gestured for him to continue.

      “It’s like this,” he said with a small cough. “I made up some … flyers, I’d guess you’d call them, and I was wondering if you might keep some here. Maybe put in a good word for me. In case any of your customers ask about guides or want some pointers or …” He trailed off, pushed the clipboard toward Lola’s side of the counter. “I guess that’s about it.”

      Gavin’s entire body tensed as he waited for Lola’s reply, and that, along with the thread of hope she’d heard in his voice, softened her heart into a pile of goo. This mattered to him. And for some reason she didn’t have the answer for, it suddenly mattered to her, too. She shifted to the left, just a tad, and craned her neck to get a better view of the clipboard.

      And when she saw the pages clipped there, her gooey heart sank straight to her toes. Oh, dear. While there wasn’t anything acutely wrong with the flyers Gavin had made, they were … basic at best. His name, the services he offered and contact information. Everything was spelled correctly, everything was easy to read. But there also wasn’t anything there, in her mind at least, that would propel a would-be customer to choose Gavin’s services over the multitude of others available in the area. And there were many, many such companies.

      Her family’s sporting goods store, for one.

      Lola finished preparing