Haley's Mountain Man. Tracy Madison

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      Wrinkling her nose, Haley sipped her chai tea. Suzette already knew the answer to that question. “My lack of a dating life has nothing to do with my boredom.” Her loneliness, maybe, but she didn’t feel like broaching that topic. “I’m just bored.”

      “Uh-huh. Sure you are.”

      “You know how it is in between seasons,” she argued, hoping beyond hope that she was right, and that once summer rolled in, these odd feelings would disappear. “Instead of twelve-hour workdays, I barely have enough on my agenda to stay busy for eight.”

      Haley’s family owned two businesses in Steamboat Springs. All of the Fosters—Haley, her three older brothers, and their parents—were partners in the running of said businesses. During the winter and summer months, that meant keeping up with her normal duties as well as helping out in the restaurant and in the sporting goods store.

      In the spring and fall, though, she was primarily in the office contending with the businesses’ basic accounting needs, updating their websites, and ordering supplies and inventory. Most of which she’d long since mastered, so typically, none of it took very long.

      “I do know how it is,” Suzette agreed easily. Her parents were also local business owners, and Suzette had worked at their deli during summers until she’d graduated from college. “Your work schedule isn’t the issue. Or what’s really bothering you, so why don’t we talk about that?”

      “Stop.” Forcing a laugh, she wished that Suzette didn’t know her quite so well. In this particular context, anyway. “There isn’t anything else bugging me.”

      “You’re in a funk, dating-wise,” Suzette said matter-of-factly, as if Haley hadn’t spoken. “Happens to all of us at one time or another. But as they say, the first step is admitting an issue exists. So, I have an idea to fix your boredom and make a certain someone—”

      “Stop,” she repeated, sensing the conversation was headed directly toward blind-date land. “There isn’t an issue. None! And I have no desire to be fixed up with anyone.”

      “Even if that guy is cute, sweet and funny?”

      “Even if.”

      “Intelligent and warmhearted?”

      “Even if,” she repeated. “And if he’s that amazing, why aren’t you dating him? Unless. Oh, no, Suzette. You’re not trying to fix me up with one of your leftovers, are you?”

      “One date, and not even a real date, and we didn’t even kiss,” she said with a flick of her wrist. “So nope, not a leftover. Promise.”

      “Darn close, though. Jeez.”

      Letting out a huff, Suzette said, “Just say the words, Haley. Dating. Funk.”

      “So speaks the woman who juggles three men on any given weekend.” Haley was only half joking. Her friend always seemed to have a man on each arm.

      “Only because I’m not as choosy as you.” Narrow shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “If a nice guy asks me out, I tend to say yes. Whereas you tend to pluck excuses from the air in order to say no.” Bracing her elbows on the table, she rested her chin in her hands. “I have a better question for you. How many dates have you turned down in the past few months?”

      Mentally doing the math, Haley frowned. She’d declined a handful of invitations, so what? Lonely was one thing. Dating someone she wasn’t interested in was another. “I don’t see the point in spending an evening with a man based on how nice he is.”

      “Because spending an evening with a nice guy is … such a horrible experience?”

      “Not at all! He should be nice, obviously, but there should also be something more.”

      “Sexual attraction is always a plus, but—”

      “I’m not even talking about that,” Haley interrupted. Not that she disagreed. But, “I don’t want to know every detail about a man’s life before we order drinks. I want to be … curious about a man, about what makes him tick.”

      And that right there was her real issue. Despite how nice many of the local men were, she just knew them too freaking well for them to hold any real interest. When you could all too easily picture a man swallowing mouthfuls of glue or picking his nose from their elementary school days, it was hard to see him in a different light. Unfair, she knew, but the truth.

      Sure, she’d dated plenty in the past. None of those relationships had evolved into anything. Some of those failures she placed squarely on her big brothers’ shoulders. Sweet as they were, they could also be a little too overprotective. The rest … well, the guys had either turned out to be jerks, or there simply hadn’t been enough chemistry.

      In other words, unless she moved to another city—which she had absolutely no desire to do—her future love life looked pretty darn bleak.

      Maybe she should let Suzette fix her up. The thought was defeating somehow, and for whatever reason, not something she wanted to do. Yeah, she should get a pet.

      A cat, maybe. Or ten. Didn’t all spinsters have a houseful of cats?

      “Are you saying what I think you are?” Suzette asked, her voice this side of shocked. Perhaps even a little amused. And damn if Haley could figure out where her mind had gone.

      “Er, I don’t know,” she said. “What do you think I’m thinking?”

      “Are you considering having a summer fling with a hot, hunky tourist or two?”

      Laughter burbled out of Haley’s throat. It felt good, even if the thought was ludicrous. “Oh, come on, that is not why I’m ready for summer. You know me better than that.”

      “I do, but a girl can hope. Besides, why not?”

      She had nothing to say to that. Not one thing.

      “It could be fun,” Suzette prodded. “How will you know unless you give it a try?”

      “Um, because I do. I’m not interested.” Tourists weren’t around long enough to appeal, and she wanted something more meaningful than a fling. Tired of trying to explain a yearning she didn’t quite understand, she said, “You were right to begin with. I’m too picky.”

      “Look, Haley,” Suzette said, her voice becoming serious, “you’re thinking too hard about this! Date a few guys. Have some fun. You don’t have to marry any of them, but it has to better than sitting at home wishing for twelve-hour workdays. Which is rather nuts, you know.”

      “I know, but—”

      The door flew open and a man entered. Blinking, she watched him stride toward Lola, the owner of the Beanery and, as it so happened, a close friend of Haley’s mother. He held a clipboard in one hand, the other was squeezed into a fist at his side, and every ounce of his body seemed intense and … hard, as if he were prepared for a fight.

      She had drawn the same impression when she’d originally met him, back in December. His name was Gavin Daugherty, and he was somewhat of a newcomer to Steamboat Springs. At the time, he’d come into the sports store looking СКАЧАТЬ