Page 2 of Haunted Hayride with the Mountain Man

I wasn’t planning on meeting anyone when I came to town. Just a quick stop by the farm at dusk and another peek in the morning after I pack up from my stopover at Fox Valley Motel, even though I didn’t splurge for a night in their new mountaintop suites. I look like a wreck; ripped black jeans, my hair pulled into a pony, no makeup on my face. If I’d known I’d be running into the most gorgeous man I’ve seen all year, who seems to know me, no less, I would have at least tried to be presentable.

“You were the planner for my wedding.”

That doesn’t clear it up. I’ve done at least a dozen weddings this year alone, starting with the ill-advised ice fishing vows and culminating in the peak fall occasion we had two weeks ago. If he was one of my grooms I would surely remember his fine face.

“I’m sorry, not ringing any bells. But I am a wedding planner.” My voice sounds as confused as I am, all high-pitched and squeaky.

“Trust me, couldn’t forget you, no matter how hard I tried to put that meeting out of my mind.” A visible shiver trails down his spine and up mine, nothing to do with the frightening scenery around us. The energy between us is palpable, as if I could reach into the air and touch it.

Something about this grumpy man is intriguing, even if he won’t help me fill in the missing pieces. One way or another, I’m going to need a favor from him, so I might as well get used to his crappy attitude.

I hold out my hand. “Nova Philips.”

But he doesn’t reach for it. “I remember.”

TWO

Skyland

I don’t remember her being so beautiful. Or so damn talkative.

Even though I’m trying to keep our conversation short, offer my assistance and get back to what I have to do, Nova won’t be satisfied without my life story.

I probably shouldn’t have mentioned knowing her. Of course that was going to open me up to the litany of questions spewing from her pouty lips. What the hell is she doing at Frost Peak Farm? Besides nearly driving into the fence that surrounds the property.

“I can’t get your car out of the ditch but it looks drivable.”

She harrumphs something I can’t quite hear. Probably about my piss poor attitude. It’s just… I’m not interested in talking to women, much less drooling over them like I would be if I looked at Nova hard enough. She’s straight off the pages of the comic books I couldn’t get enough of when I was a kid and that’s real bad for me. Lots of boys had crushes on Catwoman or Supergirl but I’ve always been more of a Black Cat man myself, and damn if it doesn’t look like Felicia Hardy crashed onto Frost Peak Farm.

Nova’s got the kind of blonde hair that’s so pale it’s nearly white, nails painted a deep shade of maroon, high maintenance for sure. I can’t handle that, not at this point in my life. That ship has sailed for me. I came back to Ashwood for one reason, to take care of my dad, to decide if I wanted to find out if my future was going to be exactly like his. I didn’t come for love.

“It’s not like I’m asking for your social security number, but a name wouldn’t kill you, would it?”

I growl a laugh, the kind of sound that leaves a chemical taste in my mouth. “Skyland Tate.”

Nova’s mouth drops open in recognition, closing again just as quickly. She’s trying not to let on that she knows exactly who I am but she’s doing a really shitty job at it.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you, to keep that look right there off your face.”

Seriously, all that’s missing is the little black eye mask. She’s even decked out in head to toe ebony. Shouldn’t a wedding planner be wearing pastels or polkadots? Perhaps holding a clipboard and scouting the best florals to match the venue?

Oh shit.

That’s why she’s here.

There’s gonna be a wedding at Frost Peak Farm. At my workplace. Over my dead body.

“Can you speak up? I’m not fluent in grump,” she flirts. The banter is cute but it does nothing to stop the recollection that crawls all over her features.

If she said something, I missed it, but it’s probably just as well because I won’t be answering questions about my called-off engagement. I’m just going to get her on her merry way and head back to work. The next show starts in half an hour and I only stepped away to take a leak. Whipping it out through all these tattered garments should be an Olympic sport. My horse is still tied up to a tree, probably wondering if I got lost.

“You act like I crashed my car on purpose, I was only-”

“Scoping out my farm,” I grumble. “I know.”

“Okay, so maybe you got that part right, easy guess, but you couldn’t possibly know that I was about to give it a hard pass.”

“Don’t let the Halloween decorations fool you, it’s actually quite beautiful the rest of the year.”