Page 32 of Mountain Man Summer

Chapter Nine

“Independence Day”

Didi

I woke before dawn on the Fourth of July, instinctively reaching for Noah before remembering I was back in my own cabin. After Callahan's call about Preston being in Montana, Noah had insisted on checking the security measures one more time before reluctantly returning to his place, both of us agreeing that a good night's sleep would serve us better than exhausted vigilance.

Sleep, however, had proven elusive. I'd spent hours staring at the ceiling, listening to every creak and rustle outside, imagination transforming innocent woodland sounds into footsteps, car doors, threats.

Now, as the first hint of daylight filtered through my curtains, I made a decision: I would not spend Independence Day cowering in fear. I hadn't fled Chicago to hide in a different prison.

My phone buzzed with a text from Noah:Morning. Coffee and breakfast at my place when you're ready.

I smiled, warmth spreading through me. A week ago, I’d never heard of Noah Sterling, Hope Peak PD. Now he was the first person I thought of when I woke up and the last before I fell asleep.

The thought should have terrified me—this rapid acceleration from attraction to something more. Instead, it felt like finding solid ground after months of waves of uncertainty.

After a quick shower, I dressed in a blue sundress patterned with tiny white stars—festive without being garish—and made my way to Noah's cabin. The morning was already warm, promising another scorching day.

He opened the door before I could knock, as if he'd been watching for me. The smile that spread across his face made my heart stutter.

"Happy Fourth," he said, looking unfairly handsome in worn jeans and a faded navy t-shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and blue eyes.

"Happy Fourth," I replied, stepping into his arms for a kiss that quickly deepened before he reluctantly pulled away.

"Breakfast first," he murmured against my lips. "We'll need our strength for today."

Over coffee and blueberry waffles on his deck, Noah outlined the day's plans—and security measures—with characteristic thoroughness.

"Callahan's stationed plainclothes officers throughout the resort area. Kyle's volunteered to keep an eye on our cabins." He poured more coffee into my mug. "The main celebration starts at noon—live music, food stalls, games. Fireworks at dusk over the lake."

I nodded, appreciating that he was sharing information without smothering me with protection. "What about Preston? Any updates?"

"Nothing since Billings." Noah's expression tightened slightly. "If he's heading here, he might already be in the area. But Hope Peak will be packed today—everyone in the county turns out for the Fourth. The chances of him finding you in that crowd are slim."

"Unless he saw my rental car. Or someone mentioned the blonde from Chicago staying in Cabin 7." The possibilities for security breaches were endless.

Noah reached across the table to take my hand. "Didi, if you want to stay here today, I'll stay with you. Honestly, whatever makes you feel safest."

I considered it briefly—the temptation of remaining in this bubble with Noah, doors locked, hunkered down. Safe, yes. But also letting Preston dictate my choices yet again.

"No," I said firmly. "I want to go. I want to see what Independence Day by the lake is all about. I want to eat funnel cake and watch fireworks and pretend—just for today—that I'm just a regular tourist enjoying summer with a handsome local."

Relief and admiration mingled in Noah's eyes. "Okay, then. One normal holiday, coming up."

He rose, moving around the table to pull me to my feet and into his arms. "For the record," he said, his voice dropping to that rumble that sent shivers down my spine, "there's nothing 'regular' about you, Didi Lawson."

His kiss tasted of coffee and sweet maple syrup, and I let myself sink into it, into him, anchoring myself in the present moment rather than worrying about what might come.

"So," I asked when we finally broke apart, "do I get the insider tour of Hope Peak's celebration?"

Noah grinned. "Complete with all the local secrets. Ready?"

"Absolutely."

***

By mid-afternoon, the heat had reached sweltering levels, but the festive atmosphere of Hope Peak more than compensated. The resort's main beach and surrounding grounds had been transformed into a celebration straight out of a small-town America postcard—red, white, and blue bunting draped from every possible surface, the scent of barbecue and fried foods perfuming the air, children with painted faces racing between game booths.

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