The Mountain Between Us Read Online Free PDF Page B

job?”
    The thought of having a whole wall to cover with paint—and in such a public place—both intimidated and excited her. She’d always had a secret dream of making a living as an artist, but she’d never told a soul. How had D. J. known?
    Both women stared at her, expressions expectant. “Okay. Do you know what you want?”
    â€œWe thought you could work up some drawings for us to look at and we’ll pick one,” Danielle said.
    â€œAnd tell us your price,” Janelle added.
    â€œI guess I could do that.” Could she? She hadn’t a clue how to begin, but she wasn’t about to pass up a chance like this.
    â€œNo hurry,” Danielle said. “Maybe some time in the next week or two.”
    â€œOkay.” Numb, the jar of olives still clutched tightly to her chest, she turned to leave. “Thanks.”
    D. J. was just climbing out of his truck in front of the Dirty Sally when Olivia came down the walk from the café. Still basking in the warm glow of the girls’ flattery, she forgot to be angry at him.
    â€œHey, Olivia,” he said.
    â€œHey, D. J.”
    â€œYou’re looking happy about something,” he said, following her into the bar. The three couples from Texas were still at their table near the front window, laughing about something. Bob had showed up and sat at the bar, talking to Reggie. Everything was the same as any other afternoon in the Dirty Sally, but for Olivia everything was different.
    She turned to face D. J. “Thanks for suggesting me to Danielle and Janelle to paint their mural,” she said.
    â€œThey gave you the job, then?”
    â€œYeah, I’m going to do some drawings and get back to them. I figure Lucas can help me with the local history stuff.”
    â€œHe told me he did a bunch of research for a project in school.”
    â€œHis teacher’s idea to keep him out of trouble. He’s so damn smart.” Pride for her kid mingled with her own sudden happiness and she didn’t even try to hold back a smile.
    â€œHe is that. I’m glad you’re going to paint the mural. You deserve to have more people see your talent.”
    â€œI can’t believe you even noticed.” For the first time in a long time she let herself meet his gaze. “It’s not like I was always painting or anything.”
    â€œNo, but you couldn’t sit still for five minutes without doodling some little drawing, and you always put your own artistic touch on things, like that shirt you’re wearing. I’ll bet you painted that.”
    â€œYeah.” She smoothed the shirt again, once more uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze. She set the olives on the bar. “Well, thanks anyway for recommending me.”
    â€œYou’re welcome. I just came from the county offices. I got a job driving a snowplow.”
    â€œWhat do you know about driving a snowplow?” Until he’d moved to Connecticut, D. J. had spent most of his life in Texas and Oklahoma, where they never got enough snow to plow.
    â€œI drove heavy equipment in Iraq. A snowplow is just another big machine.”
    Snowplowing jobs were some of the best paying in the county, or so the guys who propped up the bar said. The work involved early hours and long treks into the mountains to clear high passes. At least one plow driver was pushed over the side each year by avalanches. Most survived the trip, but a monument up on Black Mountain Pass testified to all those who hadn’t made it.
    She pushed such macabre thoughts aside. “Bob says the snow is late this year, so you might not have any work.”
    â€œI’ll find ways to keep myself busy.”
    She couldn’t look at him anymore. He made her feel too weak-kneed and uncertain. “Yeah, well, thanks again. I better get to work.”
    â€œI’ll see you around.” He turned and strode out of the bar, a big man with broad shoulders and a