Modern Romance January 2017 Books 5 - 8. Andie Brock

school, sports, hearty meals and a lot of time spent outdoors.

      Eli knew at an early age that his family was different. Trudie had disregarded societal norms and raised her daughter on her own, working any odd job she could find to put food on the table. Annalise had left home at sixteen, dropping out of school to take off with a climber she’d met at a local roadhouse. A few years later, Trudie wandered into the wilderness of the Rockies, built a rustic cabin on the edge of a mountain meadow and never returned to civilization.

      She spent the rest of her life writing books about feminist empowerment and a woman’s connection to the natural world, turning herself and her little mountain home into a symbol for independent women throughout the world.

      Most of the people around town, however, thought Trudie and Annalise were a bit crazy. There were times when Eli had to agree, although he preferred to think of them both as unconventional. After all, they were family—his only family—and he’d learned to accept them for who they were: two very confident, powerful women who didn’t need a man in their lives to be happy or fulfilled.

      Trudie had passed away seven years ago after a valiant battle with breast cancer. After a brief stint in the hospital, she’d returned to her cabin to die. Annalise and Eli had buried her in the meadow, in a coffin Trudie had built herself. After her death, her cabin became a destination for hikers trekking into the Arapaho National Forest and a pilgrimage for women who had admired Trudie’s tenacity and her talent as a writer.

      When Eli was home, he often spent time at the cabin, making sure the roof was still sound and the cupboards were stocked in case someone wanted to stay there, or it was needed as an emergency shelter by a lost or injured hiker. Though many other empty cabins had fallen prey to squatters or vandals, Trudie’s cabin, like her memory, had been revered by those who visited, and left untouched.

      “Annalise is on her way,” Vanessa called from the far end of the store.

      “Thanks,” Eli replied.

      He found a pair of cotton cargo pants and a T-shirt on the sale rack. His mother’s shop was a popular stop for tourists, but she still went on climbing expeditions all over the world and led treks for breast cancer survivors, in honor of her mother’s battle for both equality and survival.

      Annalise had also founded one of the country’s most successful breast cancer charities. She still served as the face of the group, though she’d never been interested in the day-to-day business workings.

      Eli walked to the back of the store, then past his mother’s office to a narrow stairway. When he got upstairs, he wove a path through the boxes that littered the hallway, stripping off his travel-worn clothes along the way.

      He found a pair of scissors in the kitchen, then made his way to the bathroom. Eli stared at his reflection in the mirror for a long moment. This was the first time he’d been home without an exit strategy already planned. Usually, his visits had an expiration date, a day when he was required to leave so he could make his next adventure. Over the past few years, he’d trekked the Andes, worked a fishing boat in Alaska, hopped a freighter for Taiwan, taught a series of workshops for Outward Bound and helped film a documentary about surfing in Hawaii.

      Maybe it was time to reassess his choices in life, Eli mused. Though he’d never wanted a traditional career, he felt as if he ought to be contributing in a more profound way. Both his grandmother and his mother had carved out legacies for themselves. What would his legacy be?

      Some guys built powerful careers, and their lives were all about money and accumulating wealth. Others, like politicians, preferred to build their power. Others married and found their legacies in their children. And then there were those that set themselves apart by accomplishing impossible things, like climbing the highest mountain or finding a cure for a fatal disease or pitching a no-hitter.

      When would he figure out his place in the world? And when would he be perfectly happy with his life? These questions always seemed to plague him at the end of one of his adventures, when he was left with just the memories and nothing more. Usually he was able to push them to the back of his mind by finding another adventure, but this time, he had nowhere to go and nothing to take his mind off of his murky future.

      Eli carefully clipped off the beard, but left his hair a little long. He’d make a quick visit to the barber tomorrow. Rubbing his face, he turned on the shower and when the water was nice and warm, stepped beneath the spray and sighed.

      He hadn’t had a real shower, or bath, in almost two months. The luxury of hot, fresh water was almost more than he could bear and he groaned softly as he let the spray pound his back.

      By the time he’d scrubbed his skin and lathered his hair, he was starting to feel almost human. The lather dripped off his body and gathered around his feet as he rinsed, then he reached for the faucet and shut off the shower. Wiping the water from his face, he yanked the curtain back and reached for a towel. He wrapped the soft fabric around his waist and strode into the bedroom to grab the T-shirt and pants.

      “Look at you!”

      His mother was perched on the edge of his bed, her legs crossed in front of her, her wavy gray-streaked hair falling around her face.

      “Jesus, Annalise!” He clutched the towel and made sure it was tightly knotted.

      “Oh, please. I’ve seen you naked before. Many times.”

      “Get out,” he said, nodding toward the bedroom door.

      She jumped off the bed, then threw her arms around his neck. “You’re home!” She gave him a kiss on the cheek, then rubbed it in as she’d done when he was a child. “So it will last,” she murmured, as she always did.

      He waited for her to close the bedroom door behind her, then cursed softly. Was it any wonder that he’d never figured out the female mind? Maybe if he’d had a normal mother and grandmother, he’d be married with two or three kids by now. Instead, he survived on a series of short-lived affairs with women who seemed perfectly normal at first, but who strangely always ended up unsuitable or unstable.

      When Eli finally emerged from the bathroom, dressed in the cargo pants and T-shirt, Annalise was waiting in the hallway with a hot cup of tea. She pulled him along to the kitchen table and shoved a stack of shoe boxes off a chair and onto the floor. “Sit, sit. When Vanessa called, I was so surprised. I wasn’t expecting you. Usually you call.”

      “I didn’t really have a chance,” he said, picking up a pair of climbing shoes that she’d pushed aside. “Do these come in my size?”

      She smiled. Though she’d reached the half-century mark last year, Annalise Montgomery still had a girlish exuberance that belied her true age. Her slender body, kept healthy by yoga and a vegan diet, moved with a grace and athleticism that made her hard to ignore.

      “Richard Baskill?” he said.

      “Oh, stop. I don’t need you to tell me who I can and cannot screw.” She sat down across from him and tucked her feet up under her. “It’s just a thing. An undeniable sexual attraction. I’m going through menopause and they say sometimes women just freak out and try to do it with any man who walks by.” She shrugged, a coy grin twitching at the corners of her lips. “So I did. And I’ll have you know, he’s quite an accomplished lover. Besides, there’s nothing left to do about the resort. He managed to buy every politician that could have stopped it. I just figured it was time to go with the flow.”

      “So the next best thing was to hop into bed with him?”

      She giggled. “We actually haven’t done it in a bed yet. He likes it when I get...creative. I couldn’t beat him with the resort, but I do hold all the power in the bedroom.”

      Eli covered his ears. “Too much information,” he shouted, shaking his head.

      “All right, all right,” she said, grabbing his hand and lacing her fingers through his. “No more talk about my love life. Let’s talk about yours.”

      “There’s nothing to talk about,” Eli