Page 14 of Mountain Man Summer

"I haven't had s'mores since I was a kid," she admitted, licking a smudge of chocolate from her thumb.

"Best enjoyed with good company," Howard said with a wink in my direction.

Ruth Anderson, the resort owner, joined their circle and soon had Didi laughing about “Flessie,” the legendary lake monster of Montana’s Flathead Lake, said to rival “Bessie,” that of neighboring Lake Erie. Across the fire, Kyle caught my eye and gave me an exaggerated thumbs-up that prompted an eye roll.

"She's lovely," Martha Peterson said quietly, appearing at my side with a s’more. She handed me one, her kind eyes warm in the firelight. "It's nice to see new faces at our gatherings. The same lake stories get old after a while."

I accepted the gooey treat with a nod of thanks. "She's my neighbor, just moved into Cabin 7 yesterday."

"Well, we're glad you brought her," Martha said simply. "Howard loves having new audiences for his terrible jokes."

A smile formed as I found Didi again across the fire. She was helping a young girl perfect her marshmallow roasting technique, demonstrating how to keep it just above the flames. As if sensing my attention, she looked up, our eyes meeting over the fire. Her expression softened into a look of quiet understanding that seemed meant only for me before returning to her marshmallow mentoring.

The bonfire began winding down around midnight, with families with children departing first, followed gradually by others. Kyle had wandered off with a pretty tourist from California, and eventually only a handful of people remained.

"Ready to head back?" I asked Didi, noting the fatigue beginning to show in her eyes despite her animated conversation with the Petersons.

"Yes, please," she said, stifling a yawn. "It's been a long day."

We said our goodbyes, with Martha insisting we join them for a ride on their pontoon sometime soon. To my surprise, Didi agreed readily, genuinely charmed by the elderly couple.

The walk back featured a peaceful quiet between us as we followed the moonlit path. When we reached her cabin, she paused on the steps, turning to face me.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For dinner, for the bonfire... for making me feel welcome."

"You did that yourself," I replied honestly. "Everyone loved you."

She glanced down briefly, then back up, her green eyes reflecting the moonlight. "Still, it was nice not feeling like a stranger."

We stood there, the night wrapping around us, neither moving to leave. Her gaze drifted to my lips then back to my eyes, a silent invitation my body responded to instantly. Every nerve ending sparked with awareness of her—how easily I could close the distance, discover if her lips tasted as sweet as they looked.

But something held me back—not just professional caution, but the sense that whatever was happening between us deserved more than rushed impulse. She was hiding something significant, and I was nothing if not thorough.

"Goodnight, Didi from Chicago," I said, my voice rougher than intended.

"Goodnight, Detective Mountain Man," she replied, disappointment mingling with desire in her eyes.

She turned and entered her cabin, glancing back once before closing the door. I remained on the path for a moment, my body rigid with restraint, desire pulsing through me at the memory of how she'd looked at me.

Whatever secrets she was keeping, whatever had brought her to Hope Peak—it could wait. For now, knowing the attraction wasn't one-sided was enough.

I walked back to my cabin under the stars, the memory of her smile and the scent of her perfume lingering in my thoughts, already counting the hours until I'd see her again.

Chapter Five

“Into the Woods”

Didi

I woke to sunlight streaming through the cabin's thin curtains, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar ceiling above me. The events of the previous night rushed back—the crackling bonfire, the sweet stickiness of s'mores, and most of all, that moment with Noah at my doorstep.

My fingers traced my lips, remembering how close they'd come to meeting his. The memory sent a flutter through my stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. The way his blue eyes had darkened as they dropped to my mouth, the almost imperceptible lean of his body toward mine—all signs pointing to a kiss that never happened.

I stretched, feeling oddly rested despite the late night. Hope Peak was working its magic on me, the clean mountain air and distance from Chicago like a balm to my frayed nerves. Eventhe persistent heat seemed more tolerable this morning, a soft breeze stirring the curtains.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, Jamie's name flashing on the screen. I smiled, grabbing it.

"Good morning, sunshine," I answered, my voice still husky with sleep.

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