Page 2 of Adored By the Mountain Man

Archer swears under his breath. “Shit, that sucks. For everyone involved. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I say, trying not to cry. “The kids arrive on Monday. Parents have paid deposits, taken time off work, made plans. I can’t cancel, but I can’t run wilderness activities without a certified instructor.”

I’ve put everything into this camp. My savings, my time, and my entire heart. It was supposed to be 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 working.

“What about Harlan McReed?” my brother suggests.

I frown. “Who?”

“Harlan McReed. He was one of the best wilderness instructors in the region. Knows these mountains better than anyone.”

“Was? What is he, old and retired now?”

Archer shakes his head. “Not exactly. The guy’s in his thirties, but he had an accident a few years back and has been living up the mountain as a hermit ever since. Maybe you could convince him to help you out.”

“A hermit?” I repeat. “You want me to ask a hermit to teach wilderness skills to a bunch of city kids?”

“He’s not crazy,” Archer says quickly. “He just prefers solitude, but he’s really good. Even taught me some things about foraging back in high school. And he’s probably the only person around here qualified to step in on such short notice.”

I sigh. Asking a hermit to help me teach wilderness skills to a bunch of city kids seems like a long shot. Hell, it seems like a Hail Mary, but what choice do I have?

“Where do I find this hermit?” I ask.

The second Archer gives me a rough set of directions, I grab my keys and hop in my car, praying I have a shot at convincing Harlan.

The paved road gives way to gravel, then to dirt, winding deeper into the trees. My tires crunch over branches, and sunlight filters through the canopy like flickering gold. Beautiful. Peaceful. But also isolated and seemingly abandoned. Apparently, Harlan doesn’t believe in being reachable by phone or in living in a spot that my GPS recognizes, so I’m roughing it out here, trying to find his cabin.

I double-check the scribbled note on the passenger seat for the fifth time.Go past the fork after three miles. Take a right at the old trail sign. Follow the ridge until the clearing and turn past the fallen log.

Helpful, Archer. Real helpful.

Just when I’m convinced I’ve taken too many wrong turns and will be eaten by bears before I ever find this guy, I come across a small clearing with a weathered log cabin nestled among the trees, half-hidden by overgrown pine and wild mountain laurel. Smoke curls from the stone chimney. I’m relieved. Someone’s home.

I cut the engine and get out, the intoxicating smell of pinecones hitting me like a warm hug. Don’t get me wrong, my cabin by the lake is perfect, too, but this feels a little bit more magical.

I walk toward the front porch when the door creaks open, and I stop dead in my tracks. Standing in the doorway is a man who looks like he stepped straight out of a survivalist magazineandmy wildest dreams.

Harlan McReed is tall. Broad. Built like he wrestles bears for fun. He’s wearing a flannel shirt that hugs thick shoulders and strong arms, sleeves rolled up to reveal sexy forearms dusted with dark hair. His beard is thick, just shy of unruly, and his dark hair is tousled, wild, and rugged. And then there are his eyes. Steel-grey and sharp as a knife. The kind of eyes that could strip you bare and burn through every excuse you’ve ever made. My body reacts in ways it has never before, and I don’t know what to do with myself, so I stare at the guy like a crazy person.

“Can I help you?” he asks, voice low and gravelly like he hasn’t spoken to another human in days. “This is private property, you know.”

“I’m sorry about showing up unannounced. Are you Harlan?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Depends on who’s asking.”

I smile. “I’m Callie. I live in town and run Camp Evergreen.”

His expression doesn’t shift. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“My brother Archer said you might be able to help me. You guys were in high school together? He was a freshman when you were a senior?”

That gets a reaction, but only barely. One eyebrow twitches. “What kind of help?”

“Well, like I said, I run Camp Evergreen, a summer camp for city kids. My wilderness instructor backed out due to a family emergency, but in three days, an excited group of kids will arrive in Timber Peak Valley, expecting s’mores, hikes, and basic survival skills. You could teach them and keep them safe.”

“Not interested.”

I blink. “I haven’t even told you all the details.”

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