Mountains Apart

194 Pages·2014·0.75 MB·English

by  Ross Carol

“I’ve never seen anything so incredible,” Emily
whispered.
Bering agreed, but he was watching her, not the deer ouside the cabin.
They stayed silent for a long time. He wanted to take her hand, to take
her into his arms. Instead, he willed himself to get ahold of his
emotions.
It was too late, he realized. He was owned by Emily Hollings, a smart
city girl who worked for the enemy. He began to wonder about his
resolution to remain only friends.
Was there some way he and Emily could be more than just friends?
He wasn’t sure which to listen to—his heart or his head—but he knew
he couldn’t touch her again until he had an answer to that question… .
Dear Reader, This is my first novel. Not just my first for Mills & Boon, but my
first published work ever, and I am so very excited that it’s a part of the
Heartwarming series.
Growing up in a small town is truly life-defining. No matter where you go from
there or what choices you make along the way, it just…sticks with you. And yes,
there is much about it that is annoying—seeing the same faces day in and day
out, unbearable people, gossip…. But there is also a lot that is wonderful about it
—seeing the same faces day in and day out, incredible people, gossip…. But no
matter how you look at it, when it comes right down to it we love our small
towns—just as they are.
So what happens when the face, the very character, of one special small town in
Alaska is threatened irrevocably? I know you’re thinking “This is a romance—
it’s love that happens,” right? Eventually, yes, of course. But not without a
rousing battle of wills and wits between two headstrong rivals complete with all
the fun that the advantages and frustrations small-town life can bring. I hope that
you are as taken with the charming little town of Rankins and its inimitable
characters as I have come to be.
Thanks so much for reading, Carol Ross
Mountains Apart
Carol Ross
www.millsandboon.co.uk
CAROL ROSS
lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two dogs. She is a
graduate of Washington State University. When not writing, or
thinking about writing, she enjoys reading, running, hiking, skiing,
traveling and making plans for the next adventure to subject her
sometimes reluctant but always fun-loving family to.
For Paul,
My champion—I will miss you always.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
SOMEONE NEEDED TO invent a new word, Emily decided as she stared out the
window, glaring really, at the three-foot-long icicles hanging from the eaves.
Cold just didn’t cut it. Cold was “don’t forget your jacket because a chilly wind
is picking up.” Cold was that bite in the air that made you wish you were
wearing jeans instead of a skirt. This place was so far beyond cold that not even
freezing, frigid or icy could do it justice. Chilly, nippy, cool—what a joke.
She’d read one time that Alaskan Natives have numerous words for different
types of snow, so maybe they could just borrow one of those. Whichever one
referred to the eyelash-freezing, nostril-frosting, step-outside-at-your-own-risk-
because-you-may-die-of-hypothermia type would be perfect. Although to be fair,
Emily wasn’t actually cold now. Nope. In fact, she was currently sweating like a
flyweight boxer in the middle of the tenth round.
It was approximately ten degrees below zero outside, and in between
appointments she was running around in bare feet and a thin skirt and tank top.
Because, like every other piece of equipment in this run-down, antiquated, tin
shack that was currently serving as her office, the thermostat was on the fritz.
To make matters worse, a skull-splitting headache had begun to form directly
behind her eyes and the pressure was now so intense. She tipped her chin down
and pressed the heels of both palms hard against her eye sockets for several
seconds.
She removed her hands and spotted the pills that her assistant, Amanda, had
dropped off at her desk earlier. She scooped them up, peered at the tiny yellow
tablets nestled in her clammy palm and wavered for a few seconds. Normally she
didn’t like to take medication of any kind, but Amanda had insisted that these
would knock her headache clear to Skagway, wherever that was. She had no
clue. With a grimace, she tossed the pills into her mouth and gulped them down
with what was left of the tepid water in the now-soggy paper cup Amanda had
deposited along with the pills.
Just then Amanda’s voice came on the intercom along with a healthy dose of
static. What Emily heard was “Misst ollinsss, your nexx ssex appointment issst
ere.”
She reached down and hit the call button only to be met with a loud, static-
filled shriek. “Amanda?” She pounded on the speaker and fiddled with the
buttons. She leaned over and shouted her name again. “Amanda!”
buttons. She leaned over and shouted her name again. “Amanda!”
“Hey,” Amanda said, poking her head into the office. “Did you get that?”
Emily nodded and smacked the now-buzzing intercom, which was already
dented on the top from, she assumed, the last frustrated owner who had finally
had enough and heaved it against the wall. The faded drywall opposite her desk
had a conspicuous indentation that appeared to exactly match its dimensions.
Emily answered, “My afternoon trick has arrived?”
Amanda cocked her head, amusement splitting her lips into a wide grin.
“What?” Amanda enjoyed Emily’s hilarious impromptu interpretations of the
static-prone intercom.
“My next sex appointment is here?”
“Exactly,” Amanda confirmed with a smile. “Do you need any help getting
ready?” This induced a full-blown bout of laughter. She stepped into the room
and shut the door behind her.
Emily attempted to grin as she yanked some tissues out of the box on her
desktop. She wiped her brow and then mopped at her cleavage. She pulled her
suit jacket on over her clammy shoulders. “Yes,” she said, adjusting her lapels
and straightening her shirt, “but it’s becoming increasingly clear that I need help
of the kind that only a skilled mental-health professional can provide. But for
now, could you please see if you can get something even remotely resembling a
copy out of that...that...machine in the corner? I can’t get it to do anything but
light up like a Christmas tree, and I didn’t make enough copies of the report,
although how I was to know that every local yokel from the neighborhood
barbershop, Laundromat, karaoke bar and pool hall was going to come
straggling in and ask for a copy of it is beyond me. I swear I’ve never seen
anything like this town in my entire life....”
She continued muttering as she turned toward the vintage-looking behemoth
that was supposed to be acting as her computer and began banging on the keys.
An error message, approximately the seventy-eighth one of the day, flashed
across the screen. She exclaimed loudly.
Amanda threw a startled look her way. “You okay, Em?” She walked over
and hit the escape key, then rapidly tapped several keyboard commands, causing
the screen to dutifully display the document Emily had been seeking. Emily then
watched, amazed, as Amanda turned toward the copy machine and effortlessly
print out page after page of the requested proposal and then began to efficiently
staple the crisp pages together. Emily had also tried to use that implement earlier
and would have sworn it was out of staples.
Amanda, in direct opposition to Emily, was already in love with their
Amanda, in direct opposition to Emily, was already in love with their
“Alaskan adventure,” as she’d fondly dubbed their pseudo-exile to these ice-
encrusted ends of the earth.
“Yes, I’m fine, Amanda.” Emily tentatively pressed a couple buttons on the
keyboard and watched as the screen went black again—and then promptly
remained that way. She thumped loudly on the side of the computer and this
time added a colorful string of frustrated protestations.
“Moose what?” Amanda asked with a bark of laughter.
“Nuggets,” she repeated in a tired voice. “Moose nuggets.”
“Wow. Nice,” Amanda said.
“Thank you. At least I’ve managed to pick up some of the local vernacular.
It’s charming, isn’t it? How long has he been waiting?” She gestured toward the
door, where she knew yet another irate citizen was waiting to verbally abuse her.
“Only a few minutes, and he knows he’s early.”
“Good.” Emily looked down at the papers in front of her and could not for the
life of her remember what she’d just been looking for. “What am I doing? It’s so
hot in here. And this headache...” She began absently patting at her desk hoping
to somehow solve the mystery.
“Emily?” Amanda said.
Emily looked up. “What? Oh. This Mr. Bearing is another business owner,
right?” she asked.
“Um, yes, but actually, it’s Mr. James.”
Emily’s face twisted with confusion. “What?”
“James,” Amanda repeated. “Your appointment is with Mr. James.”
“What do you mean James?” Emily looked down at her planner and back up
again. “I have Bearing written down here. He runs a guide and outfitter
service?”
Amanda nodded. “Yes,” she said. “That’s right, but his last name is James.
His first name is Bering—Bering James.”
“Oh, my—” Emily said with a groan as she reached over and whacked the
intercom, which had started buzzing again. “You’re kidding me. Where do these
people get these names for their children anyway? Already today we’ve had a
Grizzly, a Rock, a Scooter and a Bean. And now Bearing? What in the world
kind of a name is Bearing? Where does one come up with a name like Bearing, I
wonder? Like, ooh, watch out, there’s an iceberg bearing down on us.” Emily
gestured wildly and continued with her rant. “His mother is probably one of
those iceberg-crusher boat captains, or whatever they call those barges that break
through the ice. Ha! Yeah, and she probably wears an eye patch and curses like a
sailor.”