Mountain Man Forbidden

Mountain Man Forbidden by Eve London
Chapter One
Ridge

“Turn that shit off.” I slid a pint of seasonal Oktoberfest ale across the bar. Some guy I didn’t recognize sat on the other side listening to the most recent episode of the stupid podcast about the Ex-List.
“You’re the one they call the Fortress, aren’t you?” He gave me a shitty grin as he wrapped his hand around the glass.
“I said turn that off.”
He took a slow sip of his beer, clearly not rattled enough to do what I asked yet. “What about freedom of speech?”
“You’re not talking, you’re listening.” I crossed my arms, pulled myself up to my full height, and glared at the guy’s phone. “Besides, my bar, my rules.”
The guy mumbled something about Hard Timber being ass-backwards as he grabbed his beer and his phone and moved to a table across the room. If I had a dollar for every time I caught someone talking about the damn Ex-List, I could afford to retire to my cabin high up in the mountains. Right now, that sounded like heaven.
Ever since that damn list popped up out of nowhere, my life had turned into a living hell. Stopping by my bar had become an item on folks’ bucket lists. Everyone wanted to set eyes on “The Fortress.” If I could afford to hire someone to run the bar so I didn’t have to step foot in town, I would. But since I couldn’t, I showed up, gritted my teeth, and tried to get through each day without punching someone.
The uptick in business had been good, but hadn’t brought in nearly enough to hire two full-time managers.
“It’s going to pass.” My buddy Thatcher sat at the end of the bar. He’d stopped in while his better half, Joely, ran some errands in town. “Eventually, some other small-town scandal will take its place and people will forget all about the Ex-List.”
“Not soon enough,” I grumbled. His name was on the list too. But people stopped giving a shit when he and Joely got together. I wasn’t going to start a relationship with someone just so everyone would stop talking about me. I’d rather take the heat. Relationships weren’t for me. Been there, tried that. Had the emotional scars to prove it.
While I’d been dealing with the asshole playing the podcast, a woman had entered the bar. I glanced over at where she was bent over one of the low round tables near the front of the room. Dark brown hair flowed down her back, so long it almost reached her ass. Snug jeans wrapped around her thick hips, accentuating every curve. She was exactly my type, and I was in the mood for a major distraction.
It was late afternoon, at least an hour before the after-work happy hour crowd would come in. That meant the only server I had working was on break. Most folks came to the bar to order, but this woman didn’t seem to be in any hurry. I caught a glimpse of her profile. Attraction simmered low in my gut.
“I’ll be back in a sec,” I said in Thatcher’s general direction before rounding the bar and heading her way.
When I’d almost reached her, she turned around. My lungs froze solid. I recognized that face… green eyes the color of sea-foam, the scattering of freckles across her nose.
“Ridge Backstrom.” She thrust her hand toward me. “You remember me? Gillian Sonder. You used to date my sister.”
Instinct had me reaching for her hand before I thought about it. Heat traveled up my arm from where we touched. “Gillian. I heard you moved back a while ago.”
She pulled her hand back like touching me had been a mistake. “That’s right. I’m working at town hall.”
I’d heard that too. “I haven’t seen you around.”
A smile stretched across her lips. Lips that looked a hell of a lot fuller and softer than the last time I’d seen her. “That’s probably because I’ve been avoiding you.”
“Well, I appreciate your honesty. Any particular reason why?” I wasn’t the kind of guy who gave a flying fuck whether people liked me or not, but she had me curious.
“You almost ruined my sister’s life, for one.” She cocked her head, watching me like she was trying to get a reaction.
“Come again?” I’d dated Gillian’s older sister during high school, but we’d broken up almost a dozen years ago. She was the one who’d turned me off long-term relationships, or any kind of relationship at all.
She lifted her arm to tuck her hair behind her ear. The bracelets on her wrist jangled, and the scent of something earthy and warm drifted over. “You broke her heart.”
The urge to defend myself made my chest tighten. “That was years ago.”
“Yes, it was. But she still told me to steer clear of you. Which I would, but the world has a jacked-up sense of humor.” One shoulder lifted in a half-shrug. “I need your help, Ridge.”
I blinked hard. “What could I possibly do for you?”
“I’m so glad you asked.” She picked up a flyer from the table and held it out to me. “The summer music program was so successful, we’ve been asked to extend it a few more weeks. Your patio out back is the perfect place to host it.”
“What’s wrong with the park?” That’s where they’d held it all summer long. It’s not that I didn’t want the business, but I was trying to stay out of the limelight until the Ex-List mess died down, not paint a big neon target on my back by bringing in a ton of new traffic.
“It’s getting dark too early. Unless we want to start at three o’clock, we won’t have enough lighting to last until the end. You’ve got lights and a fire pit on your patio. Unfortunately, it’s perfect. Believe me, I’ve looked for other options.” She arched a brow, her jaw tight. “What do you say?”
“No.” I didn’t even have to think about it. Turning my back on her, I headed toward the bar. I’d been through enough shit over the past couple of months. Having my ex’s little sister—my ex’s all-grown up and hot-as-hell little sister—running around my bar was one headache I definitely didn’t need.
But Gillian didn’t like that response. She stalked after me, her fingers grabbing hold of my arm. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
I trudged back to the bar with her hand wrapped around my arm. My gaze shot to Thatcher, who seemed to be enjoying my interaction with the stubborn brunette.
“I’m actually trying to bring you business. How can you say no to that?” she asked.
“It’s easy. Two little letters. N and O. When you put them together, they spell no.” I reached the bar and stopped. “It’s employees only back here. I’m assuming you can show yourself out?”
Heat blazed in her eyes. She dropped my arm and stared at me, her chest rising and falling as she sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t get it. Why would you turn me down?”
I put my palms on the bar and leaned toward her. “Maybe I don’t want any extra attention.”
“You don’t want to bring any more attention to the fact that someone called you out as the Fortress. Is that right?” Her eyes narrowed.
“You have no idea what my life’s been like since the Ex-List broke. My bar’s been thrust under a spotlight. I’ve got women sending me DMs and writing me actual letters about how they want a chance to break down my walls and crack open the Fortress. And now with that damn podcaster in town putting out a new episode a couple of times a week, strangers are constantly stopping in. Everyone wants to get a picture of me, to catch a glimpse of the Fortress in person.” I pushed off the bar and grabbed a crate of glasses from the dishwasher under the bar. “It’s a living hell.”
“Maybe if you weren’t such an asshole to the women you’ve dated, you wouldn’t be on the Ex-List at all.” Hip cocked, the pouty look on her face reeked of sass.
I refused to let her bait me. The sooner she left, the sooner I could get back to normal. Or at least whatever my new normal was since I’d been outed on the Ex-List.
“Maybe if you looked harder, you’d be able to find a place that actually wants to host your music nights.” I faced her, the crate of glasses a barrier between us.
“I don’t know what my sister ever saw in you.” Eyes narrowed, she looked me up and down.
“She saw a ticket out of this place.” I forced a sharp laugh. “When that fell through—”
“Don’t even.” Gillian shook her head. “She stood by you when you got hurt. You’re the one who ended things.”
I wouldn’t waste my breath trying to set the record straight. There was no point. The past was the past, and as much as what happened to me sucked, there was no going back and changing it now.
“I’ve got work to do. Unless you want to order something to drink, I suggest you get on with your afternoon and try to find someone else to host your music parties.” Someone who actually wanted the business. There were plenty of other places she could look into. I didn’t care where she went, as long as she left me the hell alone.
“This isn’t over, Ridge.” Those green eyes drilled into mine for a few long beats.
“See you around, Trouble.”
She glared at me one last time before turning on her heel and heading back to the front table.
I didn’t want to stand there and watch her gather the papers she’d spread out, but my feet seemed to be rooted in place. Two other women walked in the front door and joined her.
“We’re moving our meeting across the street to the coffee shop,” Gillian said. “I don’t want to give The Knotty Tap any of our business.”
Would her feelings about me change if she knew the whole truth about what happened between me and her older sister? I considered it for half a heartbeat, then shook my head. Probably not. I set the crate down on the bar and put the glasses away. Each type had its own place. Wine glasses hung on racks overhead. Pint glasses stacked on shelves at the end of the bar. While I willed my blood pressure to return to normal, I put each glass where it belonged, restoring order to my bar and to my nervous system.
“Well, that went well,” Thatcher mumbled after all three women had left the bar.
“About as well as anything when it involves one of the Sonder sisters.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the coin I always carried with me. Flipping it over in my fingers—a habit I’d had since my grandfather had given it to me back in high school—took the edge off the interaction.
“She’ll probably be back.”
“Yeah, she probably will.” My lungs deflated with a long sigh. “That’s the problem.”