Page 3 of Broken Mountain Man

I hesitated. He was still scowling. Still massive. Still giving nothing away.

But also... he wasn’t wrong.

And despite every self-preservation instinct screaming at me, something about him felt safe. Dangerous, but safe. Like he was the kind of man who protected what was his.

“I don’t know your name.” I said it like that would somehow matter if he wanted to murder me. I knew Kate and I shouldn’t have watched all those true crime documentaries about people going missing in the mountains. But we’d wanted to have some kind of action plan in place in case something exactly like this happened.

The lesson, though, had been simple—don’t go into the mountains.

He didn’t answer my question and didn’t slow down. “If I leave you out here, you’ll probably end up in a bear’s stomach and we care about our wildlife too much for me to let that happen. So stop looking at me like I’m the villain in a B-movie and pick up the pace.”

I realized I had no choice. “Fine. But if I end up murdered, I’m haunting your gorgeous ass forever.”

He stopped mid-turn, those dark eyes snapping back to mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.

“What?” His voice was rougher now, with an edge that made heat pool low in my belly.

“Nothing. I’m right behind you, big guy.” My face was on fire, but I couldn’t seem to stop talking. And then I did something I didn’t think I would ever do on this trip.

I followed a strange, ridiculously hot man into the woods.

CHAPTER TWO

Elias

The moment I heard her making enough noise to attract every predator within a five-mile radius, I knew I should have just turned around and walked away.

Hell, I’d spent the last few years of my life avoiding exactly this kind of complication. Trying to heal. I shook that thought away, concentrating on the here and now.

She wasn’t my problem. Tourists got lost on Lone Mountain every day. One had just never gotten lost in my part of the woods before. I’d had years of perfect isolation and now this woman was about to destroy it all.

I’d watched her before approaching, trying to determine if she actually needed help or was just another city girl having a meltdown. The panic in her voice as she talked to herself, the way she clutched that can when she’d heard me—yeah, she needed help. Whether I wanted to give it or not.

I’d heard about the retreat. Been warned by a few of the locals during my last supply run into town. Between the lodge being renovated and some dating app going viral, Lone Mountain had become a booming tourist trap.

While the town might have liked the influx of people, I didn’t. And neither did most of my neighbors—if we could even call ourselves that. We didn’t live within shouting distance and certainly never visited each other for sweet tea and gossip.

Most of the men on the mountain were here for the same reason I was—running from something. Peace and quiet was just a bonus.

Both of which had just been destroyed.

By a woman who had no business being on my mountain. She had no sense of self-preservation, no skills, and she’d almost maced herself with sunscreen. But the second I saw her—mud-streaked, wide-eyed, mouth moving faster than her feet could keep up—I knew she didn’t belong here.

Same as I knew I was screwed.

Because curves like that didn’t belong on my mountain. Neither did legs that went on for miles, or a mouth that ran smart even when she was scared shitless. She looked like a woman built for brunch dates and book clubs, not bear country. The kind who probably cried during commercials and made you hold her purse while she tried on shoes.

The kind I had no business wanting.

But I did want her. Had wanted her from the second I saw her. When she’d called my ass gorgeous and turned red as a tomato, my body had hardened instantly wanting to discover if she’d blush like that everywhere when I touched her. It was response I hadn’t had in years, maybe ever. My relationships were straight forward. Casual hook-ups to satisfy an itch. An itch I hadn’t scratched lately.

I motioned for her to take off her pack and went to the kitchen. My cabin was small but met my needs. I grabbed a large glass and filled it with water from the fridge. I walked over to her and handed her the glass. “Drink this. You’re almost dehydrated.”

For once she didn’t argue, just took the glass and downed half with one long gulp.

“Easy. There’s no rush.” She drank it like it was the best thing she’d ever had. And maybe it was. There was nothing like water from a mountain spring. “You hungry?”

“Is that a trick question?”

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