Hidden Summit

school, Conner helped himself to a rod and reel from the storage shed. When he made it to the river, he found Luke’s helper, Art, already casting. They exchanged their greetings, and Art told him which rocks were the slippery ones.
    Conner had been here four weeks and something had happened to the place since April had arrived—it had exploded with new growth and color. The sun was out almost every day, the river, as Jack had promised, was swollen, and the trout were jumping. Wildlife, from deer to wolves to bear, had begun to appear here and there with new young—in meadows, at river’s edge, even in backyards. After a long, dark, snowy winter it was officially spring and the town’s spirits rose with the temperature. It had been a good-natured place since the day he arrived, but now there was an uplifting mood and lots more laughter—spring fever. He’d heard all about their winter of record snowfalls and how the men of the town, including his boss, had had to get together to deliver supplies to those in need, clear the roads, rescue people who’d been snowed in.
    That whole business of one for all and all for one that they had going on—that held an appeal for Conner. As a big-city guy, he hadn’t had that in a long while, not since his army days, if you got right down to it.
    He caught a fish, a nice, fat trout. He briefly wondered if he’d made enough progress with Leslie to convince her to cook it and decided he’d better move slowly. “Art, you think your boss would like this fish?” he asked.
    “Boss?” Art asked.
    “Luke?”
    Art laughed. “Luke’s my partner. Luke and Shewby are my family. They found me. And kept me.”
    Yeah, the danger was not falling in love with a woman, Conner thought. He risked falling in love with the whole damn town.
    By the time Conner arrived for Leslie on Sunday afternoon, she had already spent an entire day being tense and unsure of herself—big surprise. She had come to a few conclusions. Such as, life wasn’t going to get a whole lot easier and more enjoyable if she avoided gorgeous men like Conner. And she hadn’t been tempted by a man in a very long time. Very. Long. Time.
    She had decided she wasn’t going to try too hard. She wore her hair in the usual way—loose curls. Her makeup was the same as she’d put on for work every day. She did choose an extra nice pair of jeans, boots, crisp white blouse and blazer, however. Nothing special. They were just friends catching a movie.
    When she opened the door for him, she found him just plain dreamy-eyed. “God, you look fantastic,” he said almost weakly.
    And she burst out laughing.
    “This is funny, how?” he asked.
    “I don’t look any different. Well, the jacket, that’s a little different. You, on the other hand, are wearing pants. Not jeans but pants. Whew. Should I change?”
    “Are you a little fidgety?” he asked, smiling at her.
    “I haven’t been on a—” She cleared her throat. “I haven’t been a couple of friends catching dinner and a movie in a really long time.”
    He stepped into her house, slipped his arm around her waist, pulled her very close and asked, “Did I give you too much to think about, Les?”
    She looked up into those vivid blue eyes. She nodded, and she could tell he smiled because the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened a little bit.
    “Then maybe we should just get it over with,” he said and came down on her mouth. He moved expertly; his bristles coaxed open her lips. His tongue tangoed with hers briefly; she made a little noise as her hands slid up his arms toward his shoulders. His kiss grew a little more penetrating; he pulled her a bit closer. Without leaving her lips, he whispered, “You taste good. Good.”
    “You’re my first mustache,” she whispered back.
    He lifted his brooding, thick brows. “Like it?”
    She nodded, and he went in for the kill a second time, overpowering her lips, going deep, bending her back over his arm. He gently licked her upper lip, her lower lip, then devoured her once again. That was three, she thought. Three deep, wonderful, wet, hot, amazing kisses.
    She was screwed. She wanted him. All of him.
    “We should probably think about that movie,” he whispered.
    “What movie?” she asked.
    And he laughed, releasing her slowly so she wouldn’t collapse. She righted herself, grabbed her purse, left a kitchen light on for later and joined him at the front door.
    “It’s harder now, being older and