Page 9 of The Mountain Man's Runaway Bride

“She can be so naughty. I swear, I spend half of my life trying to keep her from choking on my hair ties, which she’s always stashing in the strangest spots.” My animated smile softens. “But she always knows when I’m having a bad day. She chirps at my work phone every time it calls. She even starts closing my laptop when it hits 5 o’clock.”

He chuckles, low and throaty. “She sounds smart.”

“She is.” I pause, walking alongside him in silence for a moment. “I never had a pet growing up. My parents said animals were messy. But I always wanted one. Something small, something mine.”

His gaze sharpens on me at that last word. Mine.

I can’t explain it, but I feel it down to my bones.

The trail widens near a little stream. I spot a shimmer of sunlight catching on something smooth and bright just under the water’s surface. It’s a small, speckled stone—rosy pink with flecks of gold, like nature’s own piece of confetti.

“Ooh,” I breathe, stepping off the path. “Hang on.”

Knox grabs my elbow. “Watch your step.”

“I’m fine,” I say, a little too confidently. “I just want that rock.”

The mossy stones are slick beneath my boots, and I’m halfway to crouching when one foot slides. A little shriek escapes me as I pitch forward—and then strong arms wrap around me, pulling me back to safety before I hit the water.

My palms land against his chest. Solid. Warm. The fabric of his flannel is soft beneath my fingers, but the muscle underneath is not. I look up—and we’re so close.

He’s watching me with that same unreadable expression. Our faces inches apart. I can feel his breath against my cheek. My heart thunders like it’s trying to break out of my ribcage.

For one wild second, I think he’s going to kiss me.

But then he pulls back. Just enough.

I brace myself for the lecture. For the scolding. For the Axel-like sigh of disappointment.

But instead…

“You really wanted that rock?” he asks, dead serious.

I blink. “Uh. Yeah?”

He squints at the stream. “Which one was it?”

I point to a gray one speckled with blue and green dots. “That one.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just, rolls up his sleeves, kneels, and plunges his hand into the cold stream. A few moments later, he comes up with the stone and holds it out to me.

I stare at it. Then at him.

“For you,” he says simply.

It’s just a rock. Just a smooth little thing pulled from a mountain stream.

But it feels like a treasure.

“Thank you,” I say softly, curling my fingers around it. “That was… incredibly sweet.”

He shrugs like it’s nothing. But I see the faint blush rise in his cheeks.

I slip the rock into my pocket and try to steady my breathing. My body’s still buzzing from his touch, from that almost-kiss. From the simple, quiet way he sees me and doesn’t make me feel silly or dramatic or too much.

There’s something about Knox Callahan. Something still and deep and a little bit wild, just like the land around us. I want to know more. I want tounderstandhim.

“Do you live out here alone?” I ask gently as we start walking again.

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