THE MOUNTAIN MAN’S SECOND CHANCE

CHAPTER ONE

SYDNEY

“Oooh, where are you going?” Allison asks, her voice a little tinny sounding over the phone.

“Peter won't say,” I reply. “He says it's supposed to be a surprise.”

I push a strand of auburn hair behind my ear and glance at myself in the mirror. As I look at my hair, I realize I desperately need a trim. My formerly chin-length bob is touching my shoulders now, the ends curling ever so slightly upward. Most people probably wouldn't even give it a second thought, but to me, it looks like a wooly mop.

My gaze remains fixed on the mirror and, in particular, at the green eyes that stare back at me. They're my eyes, of course, but as I look closely, my face is that of a stranger to me. Dark eyeliner is drawn across each lid, forming a perfectly stylish cat eye – something that's taken me months to get right. A vibrant red lipstick paints my lips. Golden eyeshadow that's a bit shinier than I'd normally wear adorns my eyes. I personally think it's a little bit too gaudy, but for some reason, Peter likes me in gold.

He told me to look my best when we spoke last, which in Peter-ese, meant wear makeup and dress fancy. Which I have.

My best friend sighs wistfully as if I've just told her the most romantic tale of all time. It's true, Peter is incredibly romantic and he's everything most women want in a man. Rich. Successful. Handsome. Romantic. The list of his positive attributes goes on and on.

“You're so lucky, girly,” Allison says. “I hope to find someone like Peter one day.”

My faint smile can't be seen through the phone, and thankfully so. My parents have already lectured me about how perfect Peter is, and how I would be a fool to screw it up – I didn't need to hear it from my best friend too.

“Yeah, well, I have to get packing,” I say. “Just wanted to let you know why I couldn't make it to Monica's surprise party. I guess I have a surprise party of my own to attend”

“It's all good,” she says brightly. “Monica will understand.”

Hanging up the phone, I stare down at the clothes on my bed, gripped by a feeling of consternation. Not knowing where we we're going makes it hard to know what to pack. A month ago, it was Key Largo on a whim. Today? Who knows. Peter's family owns a private jet, meaning he can literally fly me anywhere in the world he wants to go at the drop of a hat.

My phone rings again and I pick it up, checking the number on the display screen.

“Speak of the devil,” I mutter to myself as I punch the button and connect the call.

“Hello there, beautiful,” Peter coos. “Almost ready?”

“Almost,” I say. “Can you give me some idea of what I should pack? A swimsuit, winter clothes?”

“All the above,” he says. “We're going on an adventure. Excited?”

Not really. “More curious than anything at this moment.”

An adventure. Uh huh. That tells me nothing. I toss a bikini and a few summer dresses on top of the jacket and thick, woolen socks already in my bag. Without any idea of where we're going or what we'll be doing once we get there, I'm just trying to be as prepared as I can.

“How'd the meeting at work go?” I ask.

“Boring, as usual,” Peter says. “Dad is taking his dear, sweet time making the transition.”

“Yeah, it's got to be tough for him to let go after all this time,” I say.

I sit down on the bed and close my eyes, listening to Peter go on and on about the business. McDowell Pharmaceuticals is his dad's company, but his father is retiring and leaving everything to him. Peter is, of course, in a hurry to get things going so he can take over and start putting his stamp on the company.

His father though, as it turns out, isn't so keen on letting go. Instead of spending his days on the golf course, or at the country club, he keeps coming in and looking over Peter’s shoulder, which is driving my boyfriend absolutely mad.

Boyfriend. Huh. First time I've ever called him that, even though it's obvious that's what he is. It still feels weird to me to think the word, let alone say it out loud, though. Things still feel somewhat distant between us, even though we've been seeing each other constantly for the past four months.

Our relationship has been a whirlwind from the day my dad – a doctor who works with Peter's father on some clinical drug trials – introduced us at a gala. From that day forward, Peter has called me at least once a day, and insisted we see each other no less than four times a week. The trips started a month ago, with him taking me to Key Largo for no reason other than he thought it would be fun.

It was definitely fun, and I enjoyed myself, but, he promised me there is so much more to come. If I'm being honest, I'm not even sure if there's a future ahead of us. I'm not really thinking that far ahead right now. Peter, however, is talking about going to Europe once the transition is complete and he's gotten himself on steady footing as the man in charge. He's talked a lot about maybe spending the summer together in Santorini.

Summer. That's still several months from now. Honestly, I'm not sure where I'm going to be next month, much less almost half a year away.

“Sydney, are you listening to me?”

Peter's voice cuts into my thoughts and pulls me back to the here and now. I'd apparently zoned out – tuning him out completely.

“Uh yeah,” I lie. “I'm listening.”

“Then what did I just say?” His tone is serious.

“You were talking about work and how your dad doesn't want to hand over the reins of the company so easily – ”

“No, I'd asked you if you were ready, darling.”

His voice softens, just a bit, but it comes out sounding forced. Peter has no patience for people not listening to him. It's a trait that seems common in powerful, successful men. They expect everyone to hang on their every little word, and when you don't, they feel slighted. Insulted. In that way, he's a lot like my own father.

No wonder he likes Peter so much.

“Yeah. Almost,” I say.

I look at the mess of clothes on my bed and the mess that is my bag, realizing I'm nowhere near close to being ready.

“Good. I'll have a car pick you up in half an hour,” he says.

Half an hour? I want to ask for more time, but not because it'll take me that much longer to finish packing. I'm just not ready to leave yet. I'm still waiting to hear back from a few medical schools I've had interviews with, and I'd much rather hang out with Allie and check the mail every chance I can, not travel to God knows where with a man my parents seemed to like more than I do.

“Okay,” I say.

It's a vacation. I need a vacation before starting medical school. That's what my parents would say. It still doesn't mean I want to uproot my entire world while I wait for the acceptance letters to come. And I know they'll come, it's just a matter of where, at this point.

Thankfully, Allie will feed my cat for me, but I still hate leaving Hermes behind. I walk over to the cat bed I put in the walk-in closet for him. It's one of his favorite napping spots, and when I peek inside, I find my majestic black cat curled up in a loaf position. His golden orbs watch me as I walk over and sit down on the floor with him, scratching behind his ears.

“Don't worry, I'll be back soon, buddy,” I tell him. “I promise.”

Hermes purrs and closes his eyes, resting his head against my palm. I get so caught up in petting my cat, I completely forget about packing. My phone buzzes and I realize that the car is here, waiting for me outside.

“Shit,” I mutter, rushing to grab my bag.

I throw in a few last-minute articles of clothing before hurrying through my condo toward the front door. My heart thundering in my chest, I rush down to the elevator, and down to the main lobby. Waving at the doorman, I exit my high-rise and find the black BMW sitting out front. The driver opens up the door for me, and I climb into the back seat.

Peter is waiting for me and I feel my heart sink into my shoes. If there's one thing he likes less than not being listened to, it's being kept waiting. A look of mild annoyance flashes across his features, but he manages to stuff it down. The irritation in his eyes is gone as if it had never been.

“I thought we were meeting at the airport?” I say.

“The surprises are only just beginning, my love,” he says.

I get myself situated on the back seat and then Peter pulls me into a kiss, holding my face between his hands so I can't get away even if I want to. His lips press against mine as the car pulls away from the curb.

We can't get to the airport quickly enough for my liking.