Emma
There’s a slight hesitation on my part before my index finger clicks on the mouse to send the email.
It took longer to write the press release than I had anticipated. How do you put into succinct words what happened in the mountains and the ripple effect of it all on the company? Less is best, I decided, and I’m already wondering if I said too much.
The to-do list on my spotless desk glares at me.
There are five things left. Shit. Is this day never going to end?
The phone rings and I pick it up. It’s the internal line so at least it’s not another angry caller I have to pacify. When I’m not answering hate mail, I spend my time on the phone explaining the changes I’ve made around here.
“Don’t forget your hair appointment.”
“Thanks Phoebs. I’d be lost without you.” I tell my personal assistant and mean it. She’s been the best since I’ve returned to the company—the company Dylan and I used to run.
Dylan.
What is he doing now?
I allow my mind to drift for a few minutes. Dylan, the mountain man with muscles of steel, sparkling eyes, gorgeous smile and the most delicious lips—not to mention his massive cock. Just thinking about him makes my pussy ache. How long has it been now?
Too fucking long my mind screams at me.
Okay, I get the picture.
My flesh is weak and longing for his touch. In my long and lonely nights, I lie awake dreaming about my man, his large strong hands gently caressing my body. Exploring places on me I didn’t even know existed.
Stop, enough daydreaming, time to focus and get on with work.
I don’t get paid to daydream.
But it’s almost impossible not to think about Dylan. It’s just that I can’t simply abandon my life here and throw away everything I’ve worked for. With a sigh and one last look at what else I’ve got left to do, I push my chair back and head out of the office.
When I take a seat at Emilé’s Hairdressing Salon, my eyes stare back at me accusingly.
“Usual?” the French accented man behind me asks, and I nod.
Emilé immediately starts his small talk. Lucky for me I only have to occasionally nod or shake my head.
It means I can think of my mountain man. It’s been three months, five days, and four hours since I’ve left Dylan, and I can still see his hurt eyes. They follow me everywhere.
He had looked as if I had shot him myself the day I had agreed to catch a ride with the FBI agent back into the city.
When I had been asked by the agent if I wanted a lift into town, I had reacted instinctively, not because of any plans on my part to leave the mountain or Dylan. Events had happened too fucking fast.
Of course I always knew I’d have to come back. I mean, I can’t just disappear. There are work colleagues to inform, insurance claims to file for the burnt apartment and all kinds of other shit.
But I do miss him.
My Dylan. My mountain man.
Not to mention Boss.
The little bear cub whose mom left him to us to raise just before she died.
Okay, technically she shoved him to me, but I could hardly take him back to Manhattan.
I look into the mirror briefly. The chatter has stopped and my hairdresser is holding up a mirror so I can see his handy work.
“Brilliant as always,” I praise him and pull out my credit card.
“You’re a little distracted, Cheri,” he says as he charges me a fortune so I look good.
I dismiss his comment with a shrug.
“It’s a man isn’t it?” He winks knowingly at me. “They’re all possessed by the devil and only know how to think with their…you know.”
Instead of a reply, I kiss him on each cheek.
“Thank you.”
And then I leave the shop. Outside, people are getting ready to head home. It’s nearly five o’clock. I bite my bottom lip.
There is still a mountain of work to be done back at the office.
Mountain. Dylan. My thoughts threaten to stray again.
Work.
I need to focus on work.
Amazing how much work is involved in getting a company back on track. When I returned from the mountain armed with all the dirt on the directors, I was asked to stay and sort things out.
Why I agreed is beyond me. I mean fuck, if I’d known how much work was involved, I might have passed on the opportunity.
I guess I couldn’t say no to their proposal. They offered me a ridiculous amount of money. It would’ve been madness to knock it back.
But with a growing bank balance comes a lonely heart.
My feet take me to my favorite café and I grab a take away strong flat white with one of those delicious white chocolate muffins. Might as well have a sugar hit if I’m going to work late.
No point going home to an empty apartment.
Back at my desk, I answer emails and work through a shitload of mail.
The press has been having a field day with the old company and its shocking work practices. It’s been a hard slog to get shareholders on board and upright the sinking ship.
Dylan would be impressed.
There he is again, invading every part of me. I can’t seem to shake him off. He’s with me 24/7. Without a picture of him on my desk, phone or at home, I have to rely on my memory.
No doubt I’m embellishing his features, his muscles but not the size of his cock. His cock was massive.
What am I doing sitting at my desk and daydreaming about the man’s penis? I try and get my mind back to my job.
If I’d known how hard this was going to be, I would have…
I stop. What would I have done? Played Tarzan and Jane for the rest of my life in the mountains as opposed to the jungle?
What about all the things I love? I try and rack my brain.
The ability to walk down the road and choose from a hundred different cafes, where to have coffee, or the nightclubs, or restaurants or…I’m running on empty.
Since I’ve come down from the mountain, I haven’t visited one nightclub, or a single restaurant.
With a sigh, I leave my desk and start to pace the length of the office.
Was this really what I wanted?
Choice. Choice is so overrated.
Up and down, I walk like a caged animal.
My hand runs through my hair. It’s smooth and silky, thanks to the ability of visiting Emilé. What the fuck did the state of my hair matter, anyway? With no one to admire it, run their hands through it or compliment it, the whole thing was a waste.
Okay, so no, I don’t go and get my hair done just so people can compliment me on it. I go and get my hair done because I enjoy the experience, and I don’t want to end up looking like an unkempt poodle.
Would living with Dylan mean I’d have to give up all my little luxuries? Could there be a compromise?
The longer I think about this, the more convinced I become that I acted too fast when I just left him alone in the mountains.
I mean maybe we could talk about us. We probably should talk about us, since we never really got the chance to.
Now, self-doubt is creeping through me. It was all fine and good to think about going back to him, but would he actually want me living there?
We never actually talked about living together. There may have been a moment, just before we thought we were going to die, where we confessed our love for each other. But we never talked about us beyond fucking.
I briefly stop in front of my desk again. Half of the hate mail have been answered. Shareholders have been informed of the companies new policy, namely not to hire hitmen any more to kill people, to stick to the law and not bribe officials and fudge documents to log in areas where it is illegal.
Today, I just finished my press release announcing our company was putting two million dollars into conservation.
The majority of my work is done. Anyone can do the rest. Maybe I can even help out remotely.
I don’t know how long I’ve paced and thought, but I eventually grab my phone and head out the door.
I scribble a note on my assistant’s desk and stick it on her monitor so she sees it first thing in the morning.
It takes me no time at all to get organized. Over the last few weeks, I’ve been tempted so many times to just abandon my city life again.
I’ve got a bag packed, and I’m ready to go. I’ll just have to turn up since I don’t know how to contact Dylan.
Of course, I’m not sure how I’ll react if he doesn’t want me. It has never occurred to me that he may not live there any more, until I’m…well, on the way.
How stupid have I been? His fucking cabin burnt to the ground. What if he’s moved on, found a different place to call home?
I guess it’s too late to stop now.
I’ll have to go and see for myself if he’s still there, or what’s happened. And I’ll have to hear from him what his thoughts are about us—and our future.