Page 33 of Mountain Man Summer

Noah stayed close without hovering, one hand occasionally brushing the small of my back as he guided me through the crowds. I caught the way his eyes still swept the area with professional thoroughness, even as he smiled and nodded at what seemed like every third person we passed. It was strange seeing him so deeply embedded in this community he protected—watching him shift between alert detective and hometown local with easy familiarity.

"Noah Sterling, as I live and breathe!" A woman's voice called from a nearby food tent. "You actually took a day off!"

Ruth Anderson emerged wiping her hands on an apron, her silver hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. She beamed at us as she approached.

"Didi! Wonderful to see you again," she said warmly. "Enjoying our little celebration?"

"It's amazing," I replied with genuine enthusiasm. "Everything is so beautiful."

"Been doing it forty years," she said proudly, then turned to Noah. "This young man here hasn't attended a single one properly since he joined the department. Always working, this one."

"Not by choice," Noah protested good-naturedly. "Sheriff's orders today."

Ruth snorted. "Orders I’m sure you'd have ignored if not for certain... incentives." Her glance at me was meaningful enough to bring heat to my cheeks.

This glimpse into Noah's history, the depth of his connection to Hope Peak, touched something in me. In Chicago, I had colleagues and a small circle of friends. But nothing like this tapestry of relationships that stretched back generations.

We wandered through the celebration, Noah stopping to introduce me to what felt like half the town. Each time, he referred to me as "Didi" with no explanation or qualification—not "my neighbor" or "my friend"—and each time, I noticed the raised eyebrows and knowing smiles. Everyone seemed to understand that my presence at Noah's side was significant.

By late afternoon, we'd sampled nearly every food stall (with the church ladies' strawberry shortcake winning top honors), cheered for the children's sack races, and listened to a local band's surprisingly good covers of summer classics. Despite keeping watch for Preston, I found myself enjoying the day, almost forgetting why I'd come to Hope Peak in the first place.

"Want to watch the fireworks from the water?" Noah asked as the sun began its slow descent. "We'd have a better view from the lake, away from the crowds."

The idea appealed to me immediately. "That sounds perfect."

We made our way to the marina, weaving through families staking out spots for the display. Noah led me down one of the long docks, past boats of various sizes until he stopped beside a familiar craft.

"Your rescue vessel," I said with a wry smile as he helped me aboard. "At least this time I'm not drifting toward Miller's Rocks."

Noah's mouth quirked up at one corner as he started the engine. "And I'm not having to chase you down." His hands moved over the controls with easy confidence, guiding us away from the increasingly crowded marina.

In the boat, Noah's hands moved over the controls with practiced confidence, guiding us away from shore. When he glanced at me, his eyes held the same intensity I'd noticed during that first rescue, except now it carried warmth instead of caution.

He navigated to a spot near the center of the lake, far from the fleet of boats gathering near shore. As he cut the engine, silence settled around us, broken only by water lapping against the hull. The sky had deepened to indigo, with stars beginning to appear overhead. Around the lake, lights from the celebration created a glowing ring against the mountains.

Noah settled beside me, his arm finding its way around my shoulders like it belonged there.

"Thank you for today," I said, leaning into him. "It's been perfect."

"Even with fan recognition and the heat?" he asked, his fingers tracing patterns on my bare shoulder.

"Especially those parts," I smiled. "It felt normal. Like I was just a woman enjoying a holiday with..." I hesitated, unsure how to define us.

"With her mountain man?" Noah supplied, his voice teasing but his eyes serious.

"Yes," I agreed, meeting his gaze. "With her mountain man."

His lips met mine with the quiet intensity I was coming to associate with everything Noah did, his strong hand cradling my face with surprising tenderness. When we broke apart, the first firework exploded overhead, sending cascades of red and gold across the night sky.

We watched in comfortable silence, my head resting against his shoulder, his fingers entwined with mine. Each burst of color reflected on the lake's surface, creating the illusion that we were suspended between twin displays of light and sound.

It was during a particularly dramatic burst of blue and silver that I noticed Noah tense beside me. His hand reached slowly for his phone, which had vibrated in his pocket.

"Everything okay?" I asked, immediately alert.

I caught the flicker of hesitation before Noah spoke. "Didi, I think we should head back."

Fear knotted in my stomach. "Is it Preston?"

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