Page 8 of My Protective Mountain Man

But something inside me stops.

Because if I tell him now, this moment shatters. The warmth in his eyes cools. The way he looks at me—like I’m something rare and worth keeping—fades. And I can’t handle that. Not yet.

Not when I’m starting to fall for him.

So I stay quiet. I take another bite. Swallow the truth.

He breaks the silence with a small smirk, nudging his mug aside. “I gotta admit,” he says, leaning back in his chair, “I’m surprised you even thought someone would be living up here.”

I look up, startled. “What do you mean?”

He chuckles. “You’re not exactly on the beaten path, Sierra. I mean, sure, the Pines draw a few folks every season—hikers, hunters, the occasional lost tourist. But people don’t just knock on my door. Not unless they’re selling something or desperate.”

I nod slowly, heart racing. “Have… have there been others?”

He laughs, and it’s a rich, easy sound. “Once. Some slick city guy showed up a few years back. Told me he had this amazing offer for my land. Said I could sell the cabin and ‘start fresh’ somewhere nicer. Somewhere ‘less isolated.’” He raises a brow. “I guess he didn’t like it when I introduced him to my shotgun.”

My eyes go wide. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious. He saw the barrel and made a sound I don’t think I’ve ever heard come out of a grown man. Ran for the valley like the bears were after him. But I’m not some maniac… this was after I refused several times and he wouldn’t leave after hours.”

I burst out laughing, too loud, too fast—but it’s from relief as much as amusement. My laugh comes out a little shaky, and I try to hide it with my coffee.

Everest just grins, proud. “Nobody comes up here to push me around. Not anymore.”

I nod, still smiling, but there’s a chill under my skin now. I’m trying to hide my guilt. My shame. This man has cared for me, cooked for me, hell—he saved me. And all I’ve ever done is lie to him. If he knew the truth, he would kick me out… or worse. And it’s a problem because if I know one thing for sure, the truth will always find a way of coming out.

I’m not sure whether or not I’ve revealed myself with my foolish laugh—and I can feel Everest watching me, curious. Suspicious, maybe. I need to redirect. Fast.

“Speaking of bears,” I blurt, grasping for the nearest thread. “I saw one on my way up here, actually.”

His brows lift, and the tension in the room softens. “No kidding?”

“Yeah,” I say, forcing a more natural tone. “Massive. Just off the trail near where I left my car. I got a picture. Do you want to see it?”

“Absolutely,” he says with a small grin. “You didn’t run, did you?”

“Nope. I stayed calm. Took a picture from the safety of the car,” I say, half-laughing as I get up from the table. “Just like a true National Geographic photographer.”

I cross to my purse, sitting innocently near the front door where I must have dropped when I fainted. As I bend down to grab it, I accidentally knock it over.

And that’s when everything unravels.

Business cards spill out—dozens of them—like they’ve been waiting for their moment. Little white rectangles, crisp and professional, fanning across the wood floor with damning clarity.

Sierra Mitchell

Senior Real Estate Assistant

ClearRock Development Group

My breath catches as I try to hide what feels like hundreds of photographs of my face on the most damning pieces of evidence he could ever hold against me. The color drains from my face. For a split second, I’m frozen, heart thundering in my chest like it wants to rip through my ribcage. I might have been caught. Then instinct kicks in and I drop to my knees, frantically shoving the cards back into my bag.

Too late.

Everest stands slowly behind me. I can feel the weight of his gaze pressing into my back.

“What’s going on?” he asks, his voice low, not yet angry but not light either. “You okay?”

---