Page 8 of Wild Peak

“Relax.” She starts unlacing the other boot—managing it way quicker with those nimble little fingers. “These are new boots, that’s all. I should’ve broken them in before going on an hours-long hike. It’s on me.”

Maybe so, but knowing that she’s been hurt even worse than I realized all this time makes the blood rush in my ears. Hell, knowing that her skin is broken at all, knowing that Brooke has so much as a single tiny bruise on her body, makes me want to beat my chest and roar at the trees. I feel so fuckingprimalright now.

This is it.

I’m losing my mind.

“Earth to Hunter.” A delicate hand waves in front of my face, and I blink and come back to the present. Brooke has kicked off her second boot and peeled off another blood-specked sock, and now she’s peering at my first aid kit and extra tray of supplies where they rest beside me on the deck. The sunshine is so dazzling and golden, it makes the labels on things hard to read.

“Are those antiseptic wipes? Can I have some?”

I nod and pass her a few, not trusting myself to speak.

Because of course she can have them—everything I own, everything Iam,is for this girl. She just doesn’t know it because, you know, I ran away to the wilderness the second I realized that fact.

If I’d stuck around, is there any chance that Brooke would have come to want me too? That she’d have seen me as anything other than a creep? Or would I always have been her older brother’s best friend—the guy who had no business wanting her that way?

“I’ll do that,” I say gruffly, plucking the wipes from her hand when Brooke struggles with the packet. “You deal with this.”

She snorts when I pass her the granola bar, but starts peeling it open with no problems. “Are you sure? I’m not trained.”

And yeah, it feels good taking care of Brooke. Feels good tending to her wounds and joking around on the deck; feeding her that granola bar and hearing her soft laugh. It’s almost like old times.

But even so, dread pools cold and heavy in my gut. Because I’m sure about one thing, surer than I’ve ever been in my life: once Brooke leaves, once I’m here alone once more, this cabin will be so fucking lonely.

Five

Brooke

Hunter is one sexy make-do doctor, that’s for sure. Being taken care of by him is like living in one of my old teenage daydreams. It actually makes me jealous of all those people he’s saved in the mountains, swooping in like a hero when there’s a rockfall or an unexpected storm or whatever.

Hunter’s hands are strong and capable, moving my body easily to apply first aid and wrap me in bandages. His words are soothing too, low and rumbly and laced with that old humor that I’ve missed so much. Everything about him sets me at ease. He’s pure competence, and that means I’m safe to completely relax.

This close, with Hunter leaning over me on the deck, it’s impossible not to stare at his handsome tanned face, or the fine lines at the corners of his eyes from always squinting into the sun, or the pale old scars on the backs of his knuckles. He’s big and broad and he smells so freaking good that I could wail.

“I have to admit,” I say, “you do look the part.”

Hunter dabs at one of my scraped palms with an antiseptic wipe. It stings but it’s easy to ignore, especially with the way he cradles my hand like something precious.

“Hm?” He doesn’t look up, too absorbed in his work. “What part?”

“The brooding mountain man.”

Hunter snorts and I laugh too, swinging my free foot beneath the sofa. Those blisters are already cleaned and bandaged, and the fresh air feels good on my toes.

“If you want to go all out, you should let that beard go wild. Grow it all the way down to your knees.”

“Smart. Then I’ll have something to sit on when the ground is cold.”

“Exactly.”

Needless to say, I do not really want that. Not when Hunter’s dark beard is already the perfect scruffy length: just long enough that it would be fun to scritch my nails through. A sudden thought nudges my brain and makes me blush pink: what would that beard feel like against my neck? My nipples? My inner thighs?

“Doing okay?” When I snap back to the present, Hunter’s piercing blue eyes are fixed on me, narrowed in concern. His hands are still around mine. “You were out in the sun a lot today. Should we go into the shade?”

Yeah, no, this isn’t sun-stroke. This is a badly timed hormonal reawakening.

“I’m fine.”

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