Page 18 of Mountain Man Summer

I followed his gaze to see that the previously pristine blue sky was rapidly disappearing behind ominous clouds. The temperature had dropped subtly, and the wind picked up, carrying the distinct smell of approaching rain.

"Is it dangerous?" I asked, helping him pack.

"Lightning in the mountains is nothing to mess with," he confirmed, shouldering his backpack. "But there's a gazebo about ten minutes down the trail—part of an old Forest Service outpost. If we hurry, we can wait it out there."

We set off at a much quicker pace than our leisurely ascent. The wind grew stronger, bending the tops of the pines and sending fallen leaves swirling around our feet. Another rumble of thunder, closer this time, urged us forward.

The first fat raindrops began falling just as a small wooden structure came into view—a hexagonal gazebo perched on a small clearing overlooking the valley. We made a final dash as the skies opened, reaching the shelter just as the rain turned from scattered drops to a proper downpour.

"Perfect timing," Noah said, dropping his backpack on the gazebo's wooden bench.

I caught my breath, looking out at the sudden transformation of our surroundings. The rain created a silver curtain around our shelter, the distant mountains now obscured by mist. Lightning flashed, followed almost immediately by a crack of thunder that made me jump.

"That was close," I said, wrapping my arms around myself as the temperature continued to drop.

Noah stepped closer, his body radiating warmth. "Storm's right on top of us. Might be here a while."

The gazebo, charming in theory, offered minimal protection from the wind that now drove the rain sideways. I shivered, wishing I'd worn something warmer than my lightweight hiking clothes.

"Here," Noah said, noticing my discomfort. He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a fleece jacket, draping it around my shoulders. "Better?"

The jacket carried his scent—pine, cedar, and something uniquely Noah. "Better," I confirmed, pulling it closer. "Thanks."

"Can't have you catching pneumonia on my watch. I'd never hear the end of it from the sheriff."

I laughed, grateful for the moment of levity. "Already imagining his lecture?"

"In vivid detail," he agreed with a wry smile.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the gazebo, followed by thunder so loud it seemed to vibrate through the wooden structure. I flinched, and Noah's hand found my shoulder, steadying me.

"It's okay," he said. "We're safe here."

The simple touch and reassurance broke something loose inside me. Maybe it was the intimate setting, the storm isolating us from the rest of the world, or just the accumulated tension of the past months seeking release—but suddenly I was talking.

"My fiancé cheated on me with his coworker," I blurted out. "I found them together in his office. She was under his desk,and he was... well, his pants weren't where they should have been."

Noah's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't interrupt.

"Three years together, and that's how it ended. The worst part? I wasn't even that heartbroken." I gave a hollow laugh. "Hurt pride, sure. But mostly I just felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. All those late nights at the office suddenly made a lot more sense."

"He's the stupid one," Noah said, his voice quiet but intense. "Not you."

"Maybe," I sighed. "But it made me question my judgment. Like, how did I miss that? What else am I missing? And then the stalker situation started, and I just—" I stopped abruptly, realizing what I'd let slip.

Noah's expression sharpened instantly. "Stalker situation?"

My heart pounded. This was exactly what I'd been trying to avoid—revealing too much, becoming vulnerable, being seen. "It's nothing," I said, attempting to backtrack. "Just an overly enthusiastic... client. From work."

His eyes held mine, seeing through the half-truth. "Didi," he said simply, my name somehow carrying a wealth of questions.

Lightning flashed again, illuminating his face—concerned, intent, and so very close to mine. The thunder that followed seemed to shake something loose between us, the charged air inside the gazebo matching the electric atmosphere outside.

"I can't," I whispered, not even sure what I was refusing—his questions, his concern, or the growing pull between us.

He stepped closer, one hand coming up to gently touch my cheek. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," he said. "But I need you to know something."

I looked up, caught in the intensity of his blue gaze.

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