Page 7 of Adored By the Mountain Man

She parks and grabs her pack from the trunk, then walks toward me. “Hello, Harlan.”

“Ready for this?” I ask as I give her pack a once-over. It’s stuffed to the brim and is probably twice as heavy as it needs to be.

“Absolutely, although I might have overpacked. I wasn’t sure what constituted basic supplies,” she says, her cheeks turning red. “And I don’t think I’ve adjusted my pack correctly.”

“Mind if I take a look?”

She turns around, presenting her back to me. I try to ignore how gorgeous her ass and voluminous thighs look from here and focus on the buckles and straps of her pack. My handswork fast to adjust the fit. My fingers brush her body, and electrical currents zip through me, almost knocking me off-kilter. Goosebumps travel up her arms when I accidentally touch them while adjusting the straps.

“There,” I say, stepping back. “Is that better?”

“Yeah, definitely. Thanks.”

She turns around again, and we’re standing way closer than I realized. Close enough that I can see little flecks of brown in her eyes. Close enough that she needs to tilt her head back to look at me. I could easily lower my head and kiss her.

Callie licks her lips as if reading my thoughts but then clears her throat. “So, Lake Hartley. How difficult is the hike? My plan was to have the kids find a trail and destination on their own, but maybe that’s not smart?” She blushes. “Sorry, I’ve been preparing Camp Evergreen for ages, but I suddenly feel like a beginner.”

“Don’t worry, you’re doing great. The first few miles of the trail are clearly marked, so navigation shouldn’t be a big issue. Of course, they’ll have to pay attention at every trail junction. If they take a wrong turn, I wouldn’t step in right away. It’s the only way for them to learn.”

“Great.”

“The hard part is once we get there and have to set up camp. That’s where things often get difficult for people.”

She frowns. “Really?”

“I bet you’re wondering how difficult it can be to pitch a tent, but there’s more to it. Some people make the mistake of setting up in a flash flood zone or a wind tunnel. Or they use the wrong stakes and the wrong tension for their guy lines,” I explain.

“Right, I understand. See, that’s why I need a wilderness instructor like you.”

I shoulder my pack and arch an eyebrow. “You sure you want to do this? Last chance to back out.”

She meets my gaze without an inch of hesitation in her gorgeous eyes. “I’m sure. Lead the way, Harlan.”

“All right, then.” I start toward the trailhead, then pause and look back at her. “Fair warning, Callie, but I don’t coddle people out here. You want to learn how to handle these kids in the wilderness, you need to know what you’re capable of. That means no shortcuts, no special treatment.”

She gives me a determined look. “I wouldn’t expect any.”

“Perfect.”

We start our hike, and I point out every detail I feel is important for her to know when we do this with the kids of Camp Evergreen. When we reach the steeper sections, her breathing grows heavier, but she matches my pace without complaining.

I stop at a rocky outcrop to point out potential hazards like loose stones and steep drop-offs. I know she hiredmeas the camp’s wilderness instructor, but having two sets of eyes on these kids will be better than one. For that to work out, she needs to know every risk and bend in the trail.

By the third mile, I can see the strain in her shoulders and the slight hitch in her step on the steeper grades. But when I glance back to check on her, she looks determined as hell, pretending like the ascent and altitude aren’t getting to her. She’s not a quitter, that’s for sure. I love that about her.

Wait… did I just use the word love? I must be the one suffering from altitude sickness.

“The lake’s just around this bend,” I tell her after we’ve hiked through another stretch of pine forest.

The first glimpse of Lake Hartley through the trees always hits me the same way. It feels like stepping into a postcard that someone forgot to ruin with tourists and boats. The water stretches out like glass, reflecting the pine-covered mountains of Timber Peak Valley rising on all sides.

But today, I’m not looking at the lake. I’m watching Callie. She stops dead in her tracks when we break through the tree line, her heavy pack seemingly forgotten as she takes in the view. Her mouth falls open slightly, and she turns in a slow circle, trying to take it all in at once.

“Oh, my god, Harlan. This is…” She trails off, shaking her head and laughing like words aren’t enough.

“Not bad,” I say, though I can’t keep the pride out of my voice.

This place has been my sanctuary for years. It’s the one spot where the world makes sense again. And now I get to share it with her.

---