Page 10 of Beastly Mountain Man

“That sounds like it could apply to your job too.”

“It absolutely does.”

I smiled back.

I checked the hearth once more, made sure the starter was fully off, and told her she was set for the night. I could have left immediately, but Caprice asked one more practical question about how much ash could build up before she should call rather than deal with it herself. By the time I finished answering, the first log had settled with a soft crack and the whole great room had taken on the smell of clean woodsmoke.

“This is much better,” she said, rubbing her palms together as she looked at the fire. “I was beginning to resent a fireplace for being decorative.”

“Now you can resent it for requiring wood.”

“I can live with that.”

I picked up my gloves from the edge of the hearth. “You shouldn’t need me again tonight, but the number works whether the problem is covered by our agreement or not. If something with the cabin seems wrong, call.”

Caprice walked me to the door. “Thank you for explaining it without making me feel like I should already know.”

“You shouldn’t already know.”

“I know.” Her mouth curved. “I’m still getting used to how often you say sensible things.”

I laughed as I opened the door, and cold air swept across the entryway. “Goodnight, Caprice.”

“Goodnight, Lucky.”

The drive back to my house took only a few minutes, but the firelight from her windows stayed in my head longer than it should have.

Bear had shifted from the rug to the couch while I was gone, despite being fully aware that the couch was not his. My glove remained on the floor, abandoned now that it had stopped being interesting.

“You’ve had a productive evening,” I told him.

His tail hit the couch cushion twice without the rest of him moving.

I heated the stew and ate at the kitchen table while Bear eventually climbed down and settled across my feet. The house was quiet in the way I liked it: woodstove ticking, refrigerator humming, wind beginning to move through the trees outside.

Family photographs took up one end of the shelf beside the kitchen. There were photos of my parents, my sister with her husband and three kids, and my brother in uniform the last time he’d been home. They were close enough that I saw most of them regularly, even if my brother required more planning than the rest.

I’d never thought of staying here as failing to go somewhere else.

I liked the mountain and being close to my family. I knew the buildings I took care of well enough that a different sound in a pump or a sticking door told me something before it became expensive. I liked work that left a visible result at the end of the day.

Caprice hadn’t treated my work as small.

I finished my stew, put the bowl in the sink, and went to bed thinking about the way she had looked at me beside the fireplace.

***

By the time I started rounds the next morning, the western sky had disappeared behind a bank of low gray cloud.

The temperature had dropped overnight, and the updated forecast put snow later in the day with enough accumulation possible that we were doing the usual early preparation. There was no emergency in it. Fire Mountain Resort had generators, plowed roads, backup systems, stocked rentals, and people who knew what winter looked like.

It was still easier to check everything before the first flake landed.

I had changed into a fresh dark thermal shirt under my work jacket, with canvas pants, gloves, and insulated boots. Bear rode with me for the upper rounds, his nose working overtime whenever I lowered the truck window near a service road.

I checked an exterior generator enclosure, walked two access paths, looked over the drainage around the highest rentals, and confirmed that the covered wood supplies were where they should be. The frost was beginning to soften where weak morning sun reached through the clouds, but shaded ground remained white.

My phone rang while I was checking a railing two cabins down from Caprice.