Page 26 of Ranger's Secret

DELANEY

Iwake up in Jagger's bed with his arm wrapped around my waist. For a moment, I just lie there, letting myself pretend this is normal. That waking up next to this man isn't the most complicated thing I've ever done.

Then reality crashes back in, and I remember exactly how fucked I am.

I slept with my best friend's brother in the woods last night. Then again back in his cabin. And again after that. Three times total, if we're keeping score, which apparently my guilt-ridden brain is. Each time was intense and overwhelming and amazing. Each time left me feeling more connected to him and more terrified of what that means.

"Morning, kitten," Jagger groans against my neck. "How are you feeling?"

Confused. Guilty. Satisfied in ways I didn't know were possible. Completely and utterly screwed.

"Like I need coffee," I say instead, which is also true.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my ear. "I can make that happen. But first..."

His hand slides down my hip, and I know exactly what he's thinking. Part of me wants to give in again, to lose myself in him and forget about everything else. But the rational part of my brain is screaming that I need to get my shit together.

"I should go," I tell him, sitting up and reaching for my scattered clothes. "People will notice if I'm not in my cabin."

"Let them notice." His fingers trace patterns on my bare back.

"Jagger..." I start, but he cuts me off.

"I know you're scared. I know this is complicated. But what we have is real."

Real. Yes, it's definitely that. So real it terrifies me.

I get dressed quickly, acutely aware of him watching my every move. When I turn to leave, he catches my hand.

"One week," he reminds me. "You promised me one week."

I nod, not trusting my voice, and slip out of his cabin before I can change my mind.

The next fewdays pass in a blur of professional competence and personal chaos. During the day, I throw myself into the program with renewed energy, and I can't deny that being with Jagger is making me better at everything. I'm sharper in my conversations with Ms. Chen, bold enough to share ideas I might have kept to myself before. I'm getting better at the wilderness stuff too—knots, navigation, even basic first aid.

It's like having him believe in me makes me believe in myself.

"You're on fire today," Ms. Chen tells me after I successfully lead a group discussion about sustainable tourism practices. "This passion is exactly what Trailbound needs."

Passion. If she only knew where that passion is really coming from.

Brett, meanwhile, is getting more desperate by the day. His ideas are starting to sound recycled and hollow, especially compared to the enthusiasm I'm bringing to every conversation. I should feel bad about outshining him so completely, but honestly? After years of guys like him talking over me, it feels pretty damn good.

But the professional high is nothing compared to my secret life with Jagger.

He finds ways to get me alone constantly. His cabin. Mine. The ranger station after hours. A secluded spot by the lake where he spread out a blanket and made me forget my own name under the stars. Each encounter is rough and demanding in ways that should probably concern me, but instead leave me craving more.

There's something about him that brings out a side of myself I didn't know existed. The need to claw at his back, to bite his shoulder, to match his intensity with my own. It's primal and fierce and completely addictive.

But it's theafterthat really gets to me.

After, when he pulls me close and traces lazy patterns on my skin while telling me things I never knew he noticed. Like how I never drink my coffee until it's lukewarm. How I unconsciously play with my hair when I'm thinking hard about something. How I got a tiny scar on my hand from helping Maya move a bookshelf sophomore year.

"You remember that?" I ask one night, looking down at the barely visible mark.

"I've got a file on you, kitten," he teases.

It's those moments that undo me completely. When he massages my feet after a particularly long hike, or shows up at my cabin with the kind of protein bars I mentioned liking once in passing. When he tells me about his childhood, about thepressure of being the responsible older brother, about why he chose to work in conservation.

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