When a thriller writer without any outdoors experience signs up for my wilderness retreat, someone’s bound to get lost, and it might just be me.
Knox
As Maplewood Springs’ hiking guide, I’ve seen it all: city folks who think granola bars count as dinner, influencers who want to pose with bears, and that one guy who brought a hair dryer to look his best after summiting Mount Hartley.
But this week’s Spirit of the Wild wilderness retreat might just be the thing that breaks me.
I don’t know what’s worse. The retreat’s ridiculous name, or the fact that thriller novelist Peyton Reed shows up with enough bug spray to fumigate a small country, and thinks a compass is just a fancy paperweight. She’s stubborn, scared, and completely out of her element… And the one person I can’t stop thinking about is her.
I need this gig to pay for Grandma’s medical care. What I don’t need is discovering that the real risk of navigating these mountains is nothing compared to what she does to my heart…