Page 33 of Trapped with the Mountain Man

“No, yousuggestedthat we go back to town and I politely declined.” My tone is anything but polite now.

“God damnit, Abby. You can’t go back out there.”

“You can’t tell me what I’m allowed to do. Just because we had sex a few times doesn’t mean you own me.”

“Well, I am the LEO on this district, so I actually do have some say in who sets foot on that trail. I’ll keep the whole thing shut down for now if that’s what it takes to keep you off from it.” When he realizes that this only makes me angrier, his tone shifts. “Listen, it’s still wet out there. The trail is going to be slippery and miserable. Plus, you don’t have the supplies you need for five more days of hiking. You think three packets of oatmeal will last very long when you’re walking ten miles a day in bad conditions?”

“I saw some MREs out in the shed…”

“No.”

“Are you serious?” I don’t even know what else to say. I may have mistaken Hunter for a bear, but I never guessed that he was actually a chauvinistic, controlling asshole of a man.

Hunter doesn’t answer. He strides past me and over to the bed where my pack is stuffed to the brim. Next to it, my copy ofHiking Toward Happinessis still laying out on the bed.

“This ready?” he says, already drawing the top of my bag closed before I can answer.

“Yeah, it is ready.For my hike.” This comes out more like a petulant child than I’d like to admit and sends him over the edge.

“Do you honestly think that spending five more days out there, miserable and starving on the trail is going to make everything better? Assuming you even make it five more days, which I seriously doubt you will. You need to get your nose out of this fucking book and rejoin the real world, Abby.”

With this, he picks up the book and flings it into the nearby fireplace. I run halfway across the room just in time to watch the pages curl up and blacken. I feel my heart do the same.

We both stand there frozen for a second, like two people who just survived an earthquake but are too afraid to look at the damage around them.

“You are the last person who should be lecturing someone about rejoining the real world. You’re out here hiding from everything and everyone in this cabin, making fun of the women who come out here and try to change their lives for the better and experience something different. What a fucking life that must be.”

Watching his features lock into a hard stare, I realize that I really don’t know the man standing in front of me all that well. It feels like I do. Four days in each other’s constant orbit will do that, I guess. But really, he is still a stranger to me in more ways than not. And I owe him nothing. Not my compliance, not my explanations, and not my affection. Especially if he’s going to act like this. My heart pounds against my sternum. I don’t know if it’s because of the argument or because I know the next minute is likely to undo everything that’s happened between us here in the cabin. Maybe it’s the feeling of my heart breaking a little. Things are about to end, and there will be no visits to Oregon or return trips to Tennessee. It will just be a memory, tarnished by our parting words. I’ll be leaving here in worse shape than when I came, with new wounds to nurse on top of all the old ones.

All the emotional highs and lows seem heightened, and I don’t know if it’s because of Hunter or because I haven’t healed yet from the trauma of the shooting. Either way, it confirms what I already knew: I’m not ready for any type of relationship. Not even a maybe-visit sort of thing.

“If you make me go back to town right now, I won’t ever be able to forgive you,” I say in a shaky voice.

An ultimatum. Great. Not my finest moment.

Hunter cringes as the words hang between us. They bounce back and forth as we both vibrate with anger. Then something else flashes across his face right before he heaves my bag over his shoulder – sadness, maybe.

“I know,” he mutters as he passes by without looking at me and walks out the door.

Chapter 18

Hunter

It’s fair to say that no matter how hard I try with women, I usually fuck things up. It’s a good reason not to bother trying at all. Or at least it used to be.

The drive back to town is by far the worst I’ve ever had. We don’t talk at all. We just stew in the tension that fills the cab of my truck. At one point, I hit a bump a little too hard and Abby claws at the seat to steady herself. I ask if she’s alright, but she either doesn’t hear me or isn’t interested in responding.

I’m not going to apologize for not wanting her to go back out on the trail. I just found her – possibly the only woman in the world that might fit into my life – and I sure as hell am not going to let her go out there and get injured, or worse. It’s not like slipping on a sidewalk and falling on your ass. Out in the woods, slipping on the trail means tumbling off a cliff, or twisting an ankle and having no one around for miles. No experienced hiker would go out right after a storm like this, and Abby’s inexperience wouldn’t do her any favors out there. I know I said the wrong thing – surprise, surprise – but I just need to make her understand that it’s a bad idea.

Rain is still dripping off the tree branches as we make our way through the forest. My tires skid against the mud below us. I’m sure I’ve got my work cut out for me cleaning up the trail on Monday after that storm.

How could Abby think going back out there was a good idea?

Pissed as she may be at me, Abby’s prevailing emotion seems to be anxiety right now. She’s bouncing her knee up and down in rapid motions and picking at her cuticles absentmindedly while staring out the passenger window. I’ve only seen her like this the morning after she arrived at my cabin. That seems like weeks ago. It’s hard to remember that I’ve only known this woman for a few days.

I almost let myself think that this could work. That maybe she was the one woman who could fit into my life out here in the woods. I wasn’t going to let her go back out on the trail and get hurt – or worse – when I just found her.

I can’t lose her.

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