Page 23 of Seduced By the Mountain Man

The fading sunlight caught in his dark hair, bringing out hints of auburn, and deepened his tan against the white of his shirt. His eyes, when they met mine, were serious.

"You're right," he said. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

The simple concern in his voice threatened to undo me. "I'm fine," I said, more sharply than intended. "It was just sex, Jace. People have casual sex all the time."

Something flickered in his expression. "If that's what you need it to be."

"It is," I insisted. "It's simpler that way."

"Simpler isn't always better," he said quietly. "But I'll respect whatever boundaries you want to set, Dee. Just let me know what they are."

Before I could respond, Ruth approached, placing a hand on Jace's arm. "Sorry to interrupt, but we need your expertise at the helm. Captain's noticed something with the steering."

Jace nodded. "Excuse me," he said to me, then followed Ruth toward the pilot's cabin.

I watched him go, frustration and confusion tangling in my chest. Why couldn't he just accept the simple explanation? Why did he have to push for more, make me question everything I thought I knew about what was happening between us?

As the evening progressed, I found myself tracking his movements around the boat—helping with whatever mechanical issue had arisen, then circulating among the guests, answering questions about the lake and mountains, occasionally stopping to chat with Ruth or assist the servers.

Every time a female guest approached him—and several did, with transparent interest—a hot spike of jealousy shot through me. The tall blonde who touched his arm while laughing at something he said. The curvy Latina who cornered him near the bar, standing too close as she asked about hiking trails.

I told myself the jealousy was natural, purely territorial instinct after what we'd shared. Nothing more.

But when the band shifted to slower songs as the sun began to set, and I watched him politely decline a dance from the persistent blonde, the relief I felt was too profound to explain away as simply possessive lust.

"You should just go talk to him," Whitney said, appearing at my side with a fresh glass of wine for each of us.

"I don't know what you mean," I replied automatically.

"Please." She rolled her eyes. "You've been watching him all night like he's the last slice of chocolate cake and you're on a diet."

I sighed, accepting the wine. "It's complicated."

"So you keep saying." She turned to face me fully. "Tell me the truth—are you falling for him?"

The question hit too close to the fear that had been growing all day. "Of course not," I said quickly.

"Uh-huh." Her tone dripped skepticism. "That's why you can't take your eyes off him. That's why you lit up like a Christmas tree when he helped you on the zip-line. That's why you're currently plotting the painful death of Tiffany from Tulsa over there who's making another attempt to get his attention."

I glanced over to see the blonde had indeed returned to Jace's side. "I am not," I protested weakly.

"You know what I think?" Whitney continued, ignoring my denial. "I think you're more worried about what your family would think than about what you actually feel."

The accuracy of my best friend’s assessment was uncomfortably close to the thoughts that had kept me awake last night. "That's not true," I said, but there was no conviction in my voice.

"Isn't it? Your whole life has been about meeting expectations—your parents', your brother's, society's. Go to a good school, join the right sorority, get the right job, date the right kind of men." She gestured with her wine glass. "When was the last time you did something just because it made you happy, without calculating how it would look to everyone else?"

I had no answer.

"That's what I thought," she said, softer now. "Look, I'm not saying throw caution to the wind and elope with the guy. I'm just saying... maybe stop overthinking for once and see where this goes. Get to know each other as adults. You might be surprised."

The boat was slowing as we entered a small, sheltered cove, the mountains rising steeply on three sides to create a natural amphitheater. The sun hung low on the horizon, painting everything in shades of gold and crimson.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Ruth announced, "welcome to Echo Cove, the perfect spot to watch the sunset. If you listen carefully as the light fades, you might hear the loons calling to each other across the water—a sound that's been the signature of this lake for generations."

As guests moved to the railings for better views, Whitney squeezed my arm. "Just think about what I said, okay? Life's too short to let other people's opinions dictate your happiness."

She drifted away, leaving me with her words echoing in my mind like the loon calls Ruth had described. I stared out at the fiery sky, the mountains darkening to purple silhouettes, and for the first time, allowed myself to consider a terrifying possibility:

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