Page 10 of Adored By the Mountain Man

“So,” Harlan says, breaking the silence. “What made you decide you wanted to run this place?”

The question catches me off guard. I was expecting more practical camp management talk, not something so personal. “I… it’s hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

I stare into the flames, gathering my thoughts. “Camp Evergreen is supposed to be my late Aunt Mae’s legacy, a way to honor her memory and give city kids the same magical summers she always gave my brothers and me while our parents were out working.”

“Sounds like you know exactly why you’re doing this.”

“Maybe.” I poke at the fire with a stick. “But knowing why and being capable of actually doing it are two different things.”

“What do you mean?” he asks with a frown.

“I’ve never run anything this big before. What if I’m not experienced enough? What if I make some huge mistake and ruin everything? What if these kids come here expecting magic, and I can’t deliver?” I pull a face. “What if I get reviews afterward, telling me that the camp was lame?”

Harlan is quiet for a long moment, and I immediately regret oversharing. He probably thinks I’m some neurotic girl who has no business running a wilderness summer camp for city kids. Shit. What if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew? I’ve gone hiking and camping before, but I don’t know everything. Hell, I’ve already made more mistakes than I can count, and this is just a practice run.

“You know what I think?” Harlan finally asks.

“What?”

“I think you’re exactly the right person for this job.”

I turn to stare at him. “How can you possibly know that? You barely know me.”

“I know how heartbroken you were when your other wilderness instructor backed out at the last minute because you were afraid those kids wouldn’t be able to have a magical summer. I know asking a reclusive grump like me for help must’ve taken a lot of courage. And desperation. I know you’re out here learning to build campfires, even though you’re probably exhausted. I know you ask the right questions.” He adjusts one of the foil packets with a long stick. “Most importantly, I know you care. That’s not something you can teach.”

Something warm and grateful fills my heart. “Thank you, Harlan. I needed to hear that.”

“Just calling it like I see it,” he says with a shrug.

We sit in comfortable silence until Harlan carefully extracts our dinner packets, setting them on a flat rock to cool.

“Careful,” he warns as I eagerly unwrap mine. Turns out I’m hungry after all. “They’re—”

I yelp, dropping the foil and shaking my fingers.

“—hot,” he finishes. He chuckles, and it’s the firstreallaugh I’ve heard from him.

The food is delicious. Tender vegetables and perfectly seasoned chicken that somehow tastes better than anything I’ve ever eaten. Maybe it’s the mountain air, or maybe everything just tastes better when you cook it yourself over an open fire. Or perhaps food tastes best when it’s made by a hot mountain man.

The temperature drops even faster while we eat. Even with the fire, the night air is so cold that it cuts straight through my sweater.

I scoot closer to Harlan on the log, telling myself it’s just for warmth. But when our knees bump together, something electric passes between us, and I’m suddenly very aware of how solid and warm he is beside me.

“Cold?” he asks.

“A little.”

It’s more than a little, but I don’t want to crawl into my sleeping bag yet because I don’t want this evening to end.

He shifts slightly, angling his body to block some of the wind, and the simple gesture makes my heart do something complicated in my chest. There’s something about being here with him, surrounded by stars and wilderness and the crackling fire that feels like the most natural thing in the world. Like coming home after a long time away.

I’ve never felt this way before. This sense of safety and belonging with someone I’ve known for less than two days. This longing. It should be terrifying, but instead, it feels right. Like maybe all those years of feeling out of place everywhere else were leading me here, to this moment, to him.

The fire pops, interrupting my thoughts, and I realize Harlan is watching me with that same intense expression from earlier at the lake. This time, though, he doesn’t look away.

“Callie,” he murmurs.

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