Page 18 of Wild About the Mountain Guide
“It’s fine. Really.” He grins. “Besides, I promised your superfan, Reese, that I wouldn’t let you die out here. She’ll never forgive me if I let you sleep out here and you freeze to death.”
I laugh. “Well, in that case, I don’t have much choice, do I?”
“It’s a case of force majeure,” Knox says.
Christine and Harmony exchange a look that I pretend not to notice, and I busy myself repacking my scattered gear while Knox sets up his tent.
When he’s done, I stare at the navy-blue tent that’s somehow both huge and impossibly small. In a few hours, I’ll be sleeping in there. With Knox. We’ll be sharing the same space, breathing the same air, and listening to each other’s every movement.
“Home sweet home,” he says, opening the zippers so I can put my stuff inside.
“Thank you. I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me anything. That’s what friends do for each other.”
Friends. Right. That’s what we are. Friends who are about to spend the night together in very close quarters.
This will either be the longest night of my life, or the shortest.
Chapter Eight
Knox
The fire has burned down to embers, and I can’t stop yawning. Peyton’s doing the same thing beside me, but neither of us makes a move to get up from the log we’re sharing. Christine and Harmony turned in twenty minutes ago, and the others followed soon after.
“We should probably get some sleep,” I say, though I make no effort to stand. The truth is, I’m stalling. The idea of being in that tent with Peyton, the two of us in a space barely big enough for two sleeping bags, has my nerves wound tighter than a guitar string.
“Probably, yeah,” she agrees, but she doesn’t move either. She stares into the dying fire, and I wonder if she’s as nervous as I am.
Finally, I force myself to stand and stretch. “Come on. Morning’s going to come early whether we’re ready for it or not.”
She follows me to the tent, and I hold the flap open so she can duck inside. The space that seemed reasonable yesterday when I was alone now feels impossibly small for two people. Our sleeping bags are laid out side by side with maybe six inches between them. Six inches, that’s like… nothing really. I could easily roll over and accidentally end up touching her.
Not that I’m thinking about that. Much.
“I’ll, um, I’ll change outside,” I say, grabbing my sleeping clothes.
“Okay, thanks,” Peyton murmurs.
I step back out into the cold mountain air, grateful for the shock of it against my heated skin. What is wrong with me? I’ve guided dozens of retreats and shared campsites with countless clients. I’m a professional. I don’t get flustered by attractive women.
But Peyton isn’t just any attractive woman. And she’s way more than just gorgeous. She’s smart and funny and determined, and she’s been surprising me all week. The way she handled herself today at the shelter, the way she’s thrown herself into learning everything I teach her, the way she laughs at my terrible jokes… It’s all getting to me and doing weird things to my insides.
I change quickly, giving her a few extra minutes before clearing my throat. “All set out here.”
“Same here. Come on in,” she answers.
When I duck inside, she’s already in her sleeping bag, with only her head visible above the puffy fabric. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and in the soft glow of my headlamp, she looks even better than she did fifteen minutes ago.
“Thanks again for this. I promise I’m not usually such a disaster,” she says with an adorable smile.
“You’re not a disaster,” I tell her, settling into my sleeping bag. “You forgot one thing. It happens.”
“Easy for you to say. You probably haven’t forgotten essential gear since you were old enough to walk.”
“Actually, I once forgot my sleeping bag on a three-day solo trip. Had to sleep under a pile of pine boughs and my rain jacket. Worst nights of my life, sleep-wise.”
She turns to look at me, her eyes wide. “Really?”
