Page 28 of Mountain Man Summer

"It's not an imposition," he replied, echoing his response. "Besides, I like having you here."

The simple honesty of his statement caught me off guard. "I like being here," I confessed. "But I also don't want to let this situation control my life. I came to Hope Peak to find somepeace, do a little work, not to hide in your cabin—as pleasant as that might be."

Noah considered this, respect in his eyes. "Fair enough. How about a compromise? We secure your cabin today, and you decide where you feel most comfortable staying. No pressure either way."

"I can work with that," I agreed, relieved that he wasn't insisting on taking over.

"There's one more thing," he said, reaching for his phone. "The resort just sent out notifications about the Fourth of July celebration. Fireworks over the lake, barbecue, live music—the whole small-town America experience."

I glanced at the email he showed me, detailing the festivities planned for the holiday. Under normal circumstances, it would have sounded wonderful.

"You should go," Noah said, watching my reaction carefully.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," I hedged. "Large crowds, public setting..."

"I'll be with you," he countered. "And every officer in Hope Peak will be on duty—except me, ironically, since Callahan ordered me to take the day off. It's actually one of the safest places you could be."

I bit my lip, considering. The thought of missing the celebration—of letting fear keep me locked away while life continued without me—left a bitter taste in my mouth. Wasn't that why I'd fled to the mountains in the first place? Not just to hide, but to reclaim some semblance of normalcy?

"Plus," Noah added, a mischievous glint in his eye, "I've been told I clean up pretty well for celebrations. I even own a shirt without a single hole in it."

That startled a laugh out of me. "The mountain man in his formal attire? Now that I have to see."

"It's a rare sight," he assured me with mock seriousness. "Like spotting Bigfoot, but slightly better dressed."

"Well, consider me convinced," I said, making my decision. "Okay. Fourth of July celebration it is."

Noah's smile was worth any lingering anxiety. "Good. It wouldn't be the same without you."

The simple statement affected me more deeply than it should have. In only a few short days, Noah Sterling had become someone whose opinion mattered to me, whose smile I craved, whose presence made me feel both sheltered and exhilarated.

We spent the next hour discussing practical matters—when to speak with Callahan, what security measures to implement, how to maintain vigilance without succumbing to paranoia. Noah addressed each topic thoughtfully, never dismissing my concerns but never feeding my fears either.

"You're good at this," I observed as he made a list of supplies needed for my cabin's security upgrades.

"It's my job," he replied simply.

"No, I mean the balance. Taking it seriously without making me feel helpless or hysterical. You'd be surprised how many people can't manage that."

He looked up from his notes, blue eyes steady on mine. "You're neither helpless nor hysterical, Didi. You're a woman dealing with a difficult situation with remarkable grace."

His words washed over me like a balm. For months, I'd carried not just the fear of my stalker but the weight of others' reactions—the station manager's barely concealed implication that my "provocative" on-air personality had invitedthis attention, the police officer who'd suggested I "tone down" my social media presence, even Jamie's well-intentioned but sometimes smothering concern.

Noah saw me differently—not as a victim to be pitied or protected, not as someone who'd brought this on herself, but as a capable person facing a challenge. The distinction meant more than I could express.

By mid-morning, we'd formulated a plan. Noah would speak with Callahan while I returned to my cabin to work. We'd meet for lunch, after which Noah would help install additional security measures. Simple, practical steps that made me feel proactive rather than paranoid.

"I should get dressed," I said, reluctantly standing from the couch. "I have a radio show to prep for tonight."

Noah rose with me, his hand finding the small of my back in a touch that was becoming familiar. "I'll drive you back to your cabin."

"It's a five-minute walk," I pointed out.

"Humor me," he said, the slight tension in his jaw betraying his concern.

I relented, touched by his protectiveness even as I reminded myself not to become dependent on it. "Okay, but I'm borrowing your shower first."

His eyes darkened. "Need any help in there?"

---