Page 64 of Trapped with the Forest Ranger
If I were staying, things would be different.
Our eyes lock. A breath. A tremble.
And something shifts in him.
His gaze dips—subtle, fast. The flicker of his eyes over my face, the way his jaw tics. He feels it. Registers it. The pulse of heat he just summoned without meaning to.
He swallows hard, breath tight as he nods, tone clipped, professional, but his voice cracks around the edges of restraint.
"Don’t do that, Harper."
"Do what?" I give a half-smile—weak, brittle. A reflex against the ache twisting inside me.
"You know exactly what I mean." He doesn’t smile back. Not really. Just a flicker in his eyes before he shuts it all down, the moment locked away behind the rigid lines of control.
He turns. Takes the lead. Not in the way I crave—not as the man who took control with a growl and made me come undone with nothing but his dominance and a well-placed command—but as a Ranger on a mission to catch poachers.
And I follow, pulse pounding, still chasing the ghost of the command that lit me up from the inside.
We move through the moonlit forest, communication reduced to hand signals and occasional whispered directions. Despite the circumstances, I'm struck by our seamless coordination, the way we anticipate each other's movements without needing to discuss them.
We locate the first trap exactly where I saw the men place it. Caleb disarms it, explaining in whispers that they'll rearm it later with tracking devices after documenting its location. We continue along the poachers' route, findingand disarming another six traps strategically placed to catch eagles coming down to hunt at dawn.
"They know the patterns." Anger edges Caleb's whisper as he examines a particularly vicious mechanism. "These are professionals."
"Targeting golden eagles specifically." I photograph each trap in place before he disarms it. "The market for ceremonial feathers is booming overseas. A single tail feather can bring hundreds of dollars."
His eyebrow raises slightly. "You know a lot about wildlife trafficking."
"Did a series on it last year. These trap modifications—" I point to distinctive markings, "—match ones used by a ring operating out of Denver."
The respect in his eyes warms me, as if his praise is the only thing that matters. We continue our careful documentation, working in tandem until all the traps we can find are neutralized. By the time we finish, other rangers have radioed confirmation that they've located the poachers' vehicle and established surveillance.
"They'll catch them when they return to check the traps." Caleb secures the last piece of evidence in his pack. "Your photographs will be crucial for prosecution."
We hike back toward the cabin in the predawn darkness, adrenaline gradually ebbing to leave exhaustion in its wake. Reality returns as the structure comes into view—I should be miles away by now, heading toward the airport and Australia.
"I missed my checkout at the motel." The realization comes abruptly as moonlight silvers the cabin roof. "And I'm supposed to call my agent with my decision about Australia in..." I check my watch, "...three hours."
Caleb stops at the edge of the clearing, turning to face me. In the pale moonlight, his expression holds none of yesterday's careful guardedness, replaced by something raw and honest.
"What are you going to tell him?"
The question hangs between us, fraught with possibilities. I take a deep breath, finally giving voice to the truth I've been circling for days.
"I don't want to go." The admission feels simultaneously terrifying and liberating. "I should want to. It's everything I've worked for. But..."
"But?" His voice holds careful neutrality, giving me space to find my answer.
"But I'm not sure if I want to keep moving, or if I've just been afraid to stay still." The insight emerges fully formed, surprising even me with its clarity. "After watching my mom fall apart when Dad left, I swore I'd never be that vulnerable. Never need anyone or any place enough to break if I lost it."
"So you keep moving. Never putting down roots." Understanding dawns in his eyes.
"Tonight, working with you to protect these eagles, this place…" I gesture toward the forest around us. "It felt right in a way my work hasn't for a long time. Not just capturing beauty, but protecting it. Being part of something lasting."
"You could do that anywhere." Though his words suggest distance, his tone holds something like hope. "Including Australia."
"I could." I step closer, heart pounding with what I'm considering. "But I'm not sure I want to."
