Page 57 of Eco-Activist's Mountain Men
“We were thinning,” I say quickly. “It… uh… encourages growth and prevents the spread of disease.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I cringe internally. I sound like I’m giving one of my driest lectures in one of my driest seminars.
Her laugh bubbles out—bright, musical, unforced.
“I’m so sorry, Eric. I was only teasing.”
“Oh. Right.” Relief floods me, and I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My pulse steadies. For a second, I’d half expected her to launch into another fight—like the shouting match she’d had with Luke in the kitchen. We all remembered how that ended.
She pats the bench beside her. “Come join me. I’m bored. I could use some company.”
“Sure.” I don’t need to be asked twice. I cross the yard and take the spot next to her, suddenly very aware of the memory that flashes through me in Technicolor—the taste of her lips, the warmth of her body, the way her skin had felt against mine that night. My heart lurches, and I force myself to focus.
“You’re way too easy to wind up, Eric,” she says, her grin playful but kind. “I don’t mind about the trees.”
I nod mutely, still trying to get my libido back under control.
“But that’s part of your charm, I guess… your vulnerability.” Her gaze lingers, softer now. “And you are very charming, Eric.”
Her smile hits me again, straight from the eyes, and I’m helpless against it.
“Funny thing is,” she continues, “a few weeks ago I would’ve minded. Before I ended up stuck out here with you guys, I mean. I’d have called you a tree murderer and lectured you about how logging was destroying the planet.”
“I see.”
She turns to me, her small hand settling gently on my arm. The warmth of her touch nearly short-circuits my brain.
“But now…” She trails off, her thumb absently brushing my sleeve.
“Now what?”
“Now… oh, I don’t know.” She exhales, looking out across the yard. “Everything’s turned upside down. You guys—you’ve all challenged the way I see the world. Made me realize I was way too simplistic. Too black-and-white. But the world isn’t like that, is it? Not at all.”
I nod. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that nothing in life is simple.
“I know I’ve avoided you since that night,” she adds suddenly. “That was me hiding.”
I blink. “Hiding?”
“Yes. From you.” She looks at me straight on, and I see the flicker of guilt in her eyes. “Not because I didn’t like you. Because I was confused. I am confused. Honestly, I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m falling for all of you while rewriting everything I used to believe. I don’t know if I’m coming or going anymore.” She shakes her head. “I feel so… up in the air. And I don’t know how to come back down.”
I slide my hand over hers and give a gentle squeeze. “I think I understand. Believe it or not, I’ve been going through something similar.”
Her brows lift. “Really? How so?”
“Well… all these years I’ve buried myself in study. And yes, I’ve done well. My thesis will get published in a decent journal,and on paper, I’ll have ‘made it.’ One of the faces that fits in academia. But lately I keep asking myself—do I really want that life? Or is there something more? Something that actually matters. That’s why I came here.”
“I see.” She tilts her head, squinting against the sunlight. A breeze drifts over, lifting strands of her pink hair until it frames her face in a halo of gold. For a moment, she looks unearthly, like some kind of woodland spirit.
“Isn’t it funny,” she murmurs, “how you can look at someone else—someone you think you’ve got pegged—and assume they’ve got everything figured out. But when you get closer, you find out they’re just like you. Wrestling with the same doubts.”
Her fingers toy absently with my arm, and my skin tingles beneath her touch.
I smile. “Yeah. I always thought you were completely sure of yourself. Like nothing ever fazed you.”
She looks startled. “Really? You thought that?”
“Totally. I mean, look at what you did—coming out here, climbing that walkway to hang your banner. That must’ve taken a lot of commitment.”
