Her Mountain Man. Cindi Myers

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СКАЧАТЬ begun to imagine that because Paul was more laid-back than her father, that because he had room in his life for friends and other interests and even a dog, he might be different from her dad. She’d have to be on her guard not to make such misjudgments again.

      This reminded her of the real purpose for this trip. Why not use this glimpse into Paul’s real nature to develop her article?

      “So you don’t have any regrets about the choices you’ve made?” she asked Paul.

      “Regrets? Why should I have regrets?”

      “You chose to become a mountaineer instead of going to college and starting a more conventional career. You travel much of the time instead of having a more stable home. You work mostly alone …”

      “No regrets,” he said firmly. “I’d go nuts if I was imprisoned in a cubicle in an office. And I do have a home—right here. I’m here about half the time. Being away makes me appreciate it that much more.”

      “And working alone so much of the time doesn’t bother you?”

      “You don’t write with a partner, do you?”

      “No, but I still work with other people at the office.”

      “And I have climbing partners and participate in large expeditions from time to time,” he said. “I’m no hermit who hates people. But I like the challenge of facing a mountain alone. Climbing solo requires you to live very much in the moment.”

      “How very Zen.”

      “It is. People spend too much time worrying about the future.”

      Or fretting about the past, she thought. This trip to Ouray was turning into more of an excavation of her history than she’d been prepared for, dredging up memories of her father—both good and bad. She’d anticipated some of that, of course. Her father, or at least his body, was the link between her and Paul. But trying to understand her father’s motives by examining Paul’s wasn’t working out that well. Paul was so much warmer, much less interested in the spotlight than her dad. Yet he clearly felt a strong connection to her father.

      That mystery both drew her and frustrated her. The simple story she’d expected to write about two generations of mountain climbers grew more complex by the hour. And Paul grew more intriguing.

      The idea unsettled her, the way that moment on the trail when she’d craved his kiss had unsettled her. She didn’t want to be attracted to a man who climbed mountains for a living. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t like her father—he still had that one very big strike against him.

      Fine. She wasn’t at the mercy of unpredictable emotion. Whatever brief chemistry had passed between she and Paul, it wasn’t permanent or fatal. She’d step back into her reporter’s shoes and get this story done. And Paul would be just another interview subject—more memorable than most, but not the kind of man who would change her life.

      PAUL SENSED THE CHANGE in Sierra’s attitude. The easy warmth of her manner vanished, and was replaced by the cool, all-business demeanor she’d greeted him with yesterday. “We should get back to the car now,” she said. Not waiting for an answer, she turned and started back the way they’d come.

      “Wait,” he called. “You haven’t seen the waterfall.”

      “I don’t need to see the waterfall.”

      He hurried after her, Indy at his heels. “Be careful,” he called. “If you take a wrong turn you might end up at the bottom of a mine shaft.”

      She said nothing, but slowed down.

      “What’s wrong?” he asked when he caught up with her.

      “Nothing,” she said. “I just think we should get back to the Jeep and get on with our interview.”

      “Wait a minute.” He stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop. “Something happened just now and I want to know what it was.”

      “You’re imagining things.” She tried to move around him, but he refused to give way.

      “We were getting along great, like friends. Now it’s almost like you’re angry with me.”

      “I’m not angry with you. I don’t even know you.”

      “The whole point of this outing was for the two of us to get to know each other better. And I thought we were making pretty good progress. Until we started talking about your dad.” As soon as he said the words, he felt sick to his stomach with guilt. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been an idiot.”

      She looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

      “I’ve forgotten you’re in mourning,” he said. “Because of me, you have to relive the pain of your father’s death all over again, and here I am, asking you all these questions.”

      “You don’t have anything to feel guilty about,” she said calmly. “I mourned my father a long time ago. Long before he died.”

      She moved past him again, and this time he let her go. He wasn’t sure he believed her when she said she didn’t mourn Victor. When she’d told Paul about the hikes she and her father had taken when she was a child, he’d heard the sadness in her voice. Maybe she didn’t miss the father who’d been away climbing mountains, but some part of her grieved for the man who’d been with her on those childhood hikes.

      Paul wished he could have known that man. To him, Victor Winston was the larger-than-life figure who’d inspired him and encouraged him. The movies Victor made of his expeditions had introduced Paul to the mountains and shown him the possibilities of a world far different from the one in which he lived every day. That was the figure whose footsteps he’d set out to trace when he climbed McKinley.

      To come upon Victor’s body, so small and fragile, light enough to carry down on his back, had been a shock. It reduced Paul’s own accomplishments, made them less meaningful. Every time he climbed a mountain, he thought about staring down death, but finding Victor had been a different kind of confrontation with the end. He’d spent years comparing himself with his hero, inspired to live up to Victor’s achievements. Now, he had to wonder if he’d end up like the man he’d admired—dying slowly on a mountainside, all alone.

      The idea shook him still. Would Victor say it had all been worth it? It was a question Paul had wanted to ask Sierra.

      He remembered again the light in her eyes when she’d talked about hiking with her father, having him all to herself.

      Maybe it was guilt, or some latent desire to connect with his hero, but Paul felt protective of Sierra. She might be a tough city girl, but he’d glimpsed a vulnerability in her that touched him. These past few hours had changed his feelings about her visit and this interview.

      Now, instead of wanting to know Victor better, Paul wanted to know Victor’s daughter.

      THEY WALKED IN SILENCE back to the parking area. By the time they reached the Jeep, Sierra felt more in control of her emotions. Talking about her father with Paul had been a bad idea. He only saw the inspiring public figure—the man who had charmed millions in his videos and interviews. Paul didn’t see the reserved, uncommunicative man who had spent days shut away from his wife and СКАЧАТЬ