Page 16 of Mountain Man Summer

"I'm not exactly REI's best customer," I warned. "My hiking experience is limited to the stairs at the L station when the elevator's broken."

He laughed, the sound warming me from the inside out. "It's an easy trail. And I promise not to leave you behind if you need to catch your breath."

My mind flashed to Jamie's warning, then to the almost-kiss last night. One was a reason to stay, the other a reason to go.

"Give me fifteen minutes to shower and change," I said, making my decision. "And fair warning—I don't own hiking boots."

Noah's smile was worth whatever blisters awaited me. "Sneakers will work. I'll pack lunch."

As I closed the door, I leaned against it, questioning my sanity. I'd fled Chicago to escape one man's attention, yet here I was, eagerly seeking another's. But something about Noah made me feel safe rather than hunted. Protected rather than pursued.

Maybe that was the most dangerous feeling of all.

***

"You didn't mention the elevation gain," I panted, pausing to take another swig from my water bottle.

Noah turned back, not even slightly winded despite the steep trail we'd been climbing for the past forty minutes. "If I had, would you have come?"

"Probably not," I admitted, taking in the breathtaking vista that had opened up behind us. The lake sparkled likea massive sapphire below, surrounding mountains creating a perfect natural bowl. "But I would have missed this view."

"Worth the burning calves?"

"Ask me again when we reach this mythical waterfall of yours."

We'd left the resort in Noah's Jeep, driving along winding forest roads until reaching a trailhead unmarked by any official signage. Just as promised, the path seemed known only to locals—we hadn't encountered another soul since starting our hike.

I'd dressed in my most outdoor-appropriate clothing: yoga pants, a lightweight tank top under a long-sleeved shirt (which I'd already tied around my waist), and my most supportive sneakers. Noah carried a backpack with our lunch and water, moving with the easy confidence of someone who'd hiked these mountains his entire life.

"We're about halfway there," he said, reaching down to offer his hand as we approached a rocky section of the trail.

I took it, trying to ignore the now-familiar spark when our skin connected. His hand was warm and calloused, enveloping mine completely. When I nearly slipped on loose gravel, his grip tightened, steadying me effortlessly.

"Thanks," I mumbled, embarrassingly breathless from both the altitude and his proximity.

"City girl," he teased, but his tone held admiration rather than mockery.

The trail wound through alpine meadows dotted with wildflowers, stands of fragrant pines, and rocky outcroppings that offered increasingly spectacular views. Noah pointed out local landmarks and wildlife with the expertise of a born naturalist.

"Red-tailed hawk," he said, pausing to point at a large bird circling above. "They mate for life. That one's probably hunting to feed its family."

"How do you know all this?" I asked, genuinely impressed.

He shrugged, seeming almost embarrassed by my admiration. "My grandfather. He taught me everything about these mountains—the plants, the animals, where to find the best fishing spots. Said understanding nature was the first step to respecting it."

"He sounds like a wise man."

"He was." A shadow crossed Noah's face. "This was his favorite hike. He brought me here for the first time when I was eight. I fell in the creek and came home soaking wet with a pocket full of interesting rocks."

The image of a small, freckled Noah splashing in a mountain stream made me smile. "Some things never change, Detective. You rescued me when I was metaphorically drowning just two days ago."

His answering smile reached his eyes, crinkling the corners in that way that made my stomach flip. "Occupational hazard."

After another twenty minutes of hiking, we reached a clearing with a fallen log perfectly situated for resting. Noah slipped off his backpack and gestured for me to sit.

"Break time," he announced, retrieving a small container of trail mix and offering me some. "How are those city feet holding up?"

"Surprisingly well," I admitted, accepting a handful of nuts and dried fruit. "Though I might need to invest in actual hiking boots if I plan to do this again."

---