Page 5 of Adored By the Mountain Man

“I’m happy for you two, and I’d love to talk, but I’ve got to run,” I tell her. “Harlan will be here any second. I just needed to talk to you before he showed up.”

“You mean, you’re going to put on some mascara.” Fern laughs.

“Of course not,” I say with a roll of my eyes, even as I smooth down my shirt and glance at my reflection in the microwave.

Gosh, I do need mascara. Not to look great for Harlan, obviously, but because I want to come across as professional and put-together.

I end the call and quickly head into the bathroom to brush my hair and swipe some mascara over my eyelashes.

I’m capping the mascara when I hear the rumble of an engine outside. My heart does this ridiculous little flutter, and I take a deep breath to steady myself.This is business, Callie.You’re showing a wilderness guide around your camp facilities, not going on a date with a mountain god.

Through the bathroom window, I catch a glimpse of a dark pickup truck pulling into my driveway. I take one last look in the mirror, smooth down my hair, and head outside.

Harlan steps out of his truck, and my breath catches all over again. He’s even more attractive than I remembered. Those broad shoulders strain against a flannel shirt rolled up to reveal his strong forearms, and his dark hair is so unruly, it’s fucking sexy as hell. When his eyes meet mine, I feel that same electric jolt from yesterday.

“Morning,” he says, his voice still doing that thing that makes my heart skip a beat.

“Good morning! Right on time.” Ugh. I sound too cheerful and too eager.Dial it back, Callie. “Coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”

He considers this for a moment, then nods. “Black.”

Of course a man like him takes it black. I bet he probably chews his own coffee beans.

I lead him inside, hyperaware of his presence behind me. He moves quietly for such a big man, and I can feel his eyes taking in everything. The camp setup, the equipment storage area I’ve organized near the dock, and the fire pit I spent hours arranging just right.

“Looks good,” he says.

“Really?” I turn to look at him.

“Don’t sound so surprised. You’ve got good sight lines to the water, level ground for tents, natural windbreak from those trees.” He gestures toward the pine grove that borders the clearing. “Someone knew what they were doing when they picked this spot.”

I grin proudly. “Thanks, Harlan.”

We head inside, and I pour him coffee in my biggest mug, the one with a cartoon bear that saysBearly Awake. He takes it with an arched eyebrow, though I swear I see the corner of his mouth twitch.

“So,” I say, wrapping my hands around my mug, “any questions so far?”

“Tell me about these kids. What exactly am I getting myself into?”

“They’re between fourteen and seventeen. Most of them are here because they need structure and something positive to focus on. A few have been in minor trouble, but nothing serious. They just need someone to believe in them.”

He runs a hand through his beard. “And you think six weeks in the woods is going to fix whatever’s wrong with these teenagers?”

“I think six weeks of learning they’re capable of more than they previously thought is going to help,” I say.

He lets out a grunt. “I agree.”

My gaze drops to his hands, and I notice that his left one only has three fingers. That must be because of the accident Archer told me about. The one that sent him into hiding in the mountains. I force myself to look away. His personal life and injuries are none of my business, and the last thing I want is for him to think I pity him.

“How many kids exactly?” he asks, and I’m grateful he didn’t catch me staring at his hands.

“Eight. Four boys, four girls. I’ve got their files if you want to look through them.”

He takes another sip of coffee. “What’s your biggest concern about running this camp?”

The question catches me off guard. Most people would ask about logistics and schedules, but he’s cutting straight to what keeps me up at night.

“Honestly? That I’m in over my head,” I admit. “I’ve got the love for the outdoors and the enthusiasm, but I’ve never been responsible for a group of teenagers. What if something goes wrong? What if I can’t handle it when they push boundaries or get homesick or injured?”

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