Page 27 of Seduced By the Mountain Man

"Hot chocolate?" I offered. "There's a splash of something stronger in it. Ruth's secret recipe."

She accepted the mug, wrapping her hands around its warmth. "Thanks."

I settled into the chair beside hers, leaving space between us. Above us, the Milky Way cut across the sky, billions of stars pressed so close together they formed a glowing river against the blackness.

"Remember when your dad taught us the constellations?" I asked, breaking the silence. "That summer at the cabin when I was fifteen?"

A small smile touched her lips. "You learned them faster than Tyler did. Dad was impressed."

"I'd never seen stars like that before," I admitted. "Growing up in town, with all the lights... the night sky was just darkness with a few bright dots. That first summer at your family's cabin in Montana, seeing the full glory of it... it changed something in me."

"Is that why you ended up here?" she asked, gesturing at the resort, the mountains, the lake. "Living in the wilderness?"

I nodded. "Partly. Your family showed me there was a different way to live. That you could have peace, beauty, stability. All the things I never had growing up."

She turned to look at me fully. "What was it like? Your childhood. You never really talked about it, even when you spent all those summers with us."

I took a sip of my spiked hot chocolate, the warmth and alcohol spreading through me, loosening something in my chest.

"It wasn't great," I said quietly. "My dad beat the crap out of my mom until she finally up and left when I was nine. He never tried to get in contact with either of us after that. Not once."

Delaney's breath caught audibly. "Jace, I didn't know."

"Not many people do." I stared up at the stars, finding it easier to talk when I wasn't looking at her. "Mom worked multiple jobs, but we never had enough to make ends meet. And her taste in men didn't get any better. Different guys, same problems. That's why those summers with your family meant so much to me."

I paused, remembering those years—the tiny apartments, the unpaid bills, the shouting matches that would send me fleeing to friends' houses or, when I got older, to the woods at the edge of town.

"Being with the Shaws during those summers," I continued, "it was the closest thing I ever had to a real family. Your parents treating me like I mattered. Tyler treating me like a brother."

I finally looked at her. "That's why I panicked in Jackson Hole. Tyler's friendship, your family's acceptance—it's been my anchor for half my life. The thought of losing that..." I shook my head. "I couldn't risk it. But then I couldn't stop thinking about you either. Not since that summer you turned twenty-one and came home from college. Something changed then. I started seeing you differently."

She was silent for a long moment, her face unreadable in the starlight.

"We come from two different worlds," I said softly. "It's true. I know I'll never be good enough for you. Your parents are successful attorneys. You and Tyler both have impressive careers—him in real estate development and you in digital marketing. Meanwhile, I'm just a guy who's good at climbing mountains and paddling canoes."

"That's not true," she said suddenly, fierce in a way that startled me. "I'm not a baby anymore, Jace. I'm all grown up, and I don't care what my family thinks."

A low laugh escaped me. "Yes, you do. And that's okay. Your parents and brother love you, they just want the best for you."

She opened her mouth to protest, but I continued.

"Tyler told me how you were born premature and were in the NICU. How he remembers how worried he and your parents were that you wouldn't make it. I can't blame them for being overprotective. They're good people."

Her expression softened. "He told you about that?"

I nodded. "Years ago. He said it was the scariest time of his life, seeing you in that little incubator with tubes everywhere. Said he promised himself that if you pulled through, he'd always look out for you."

"Great," she muttered. "So he's never going to stop being overprotective."

"Probably not," I agreed. "But maybe he doesn't have to. Maybe it's time for all of us to recognize that you're not that fragile baby anymore."

I risked reaching out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She didn't pull away.

"I meant what I said before," I told her. "If you want me to back off, I will. But I need to know that's what you actually want, not what you think you should want because of Tyler or your parents or any other obligation."

She was quiet for so long I thought she might not answer. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I don't know what I want. That's the problem."

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