Page 10 of Trusting the Grumpy Mountain Man
Rather than reprimand him, I nod. "Adaptation. Good instinct."
The surprise on his face is worth bending the rules. This kid needs to know his intelligence is seen and valued.
As we walk back toward the cabin, Riley is quiet beside me. The rain has slackened somewhat, though the wind still whips through the trees overhead.
"You're not going to discipline him for breaking curfew?" she finally asks.
"He solved his problem using available resources. That's the lesson." I steady her when she slips on the muddy path, my hand at her elbow. "Rules exist for safety, not control. He stayed within the area, didn't endanger himself or others. The objective was accomplished."
"That's actually a reasonable distinction." She sounds thoughtful.
"Try not to sound so surprised."
Lightning flashes, briefly illuminating her face, turned up toward mine. In that instant, I see something there that has nothing to do with professional assessment.Attraction.
Then darkness falls again, and we continue toward the cabin in silence. My hand remains at her elbow, ostensibly for stability on the treacherous path. Neither of us acknowledges that she's sure-footed now, no longer slipping.
Inside, we shed the wet outer layers. Kevin still sleeps on the couch, oblivious. The fire has died down, so I add another log while Riley removes the enormous boots.
"They're resilient," she says, watching me work. "The participants, I mean."
"More than most people give them credit for." I straighten, turning to face her. "Including your department."
"We're not the enemy, Mr. Reeves." She stands her ground, chin lifted.
"Jax," I correct her. "If you're wearing my clothes in my cabin at midnight, you might as well use my name."
Something flickers in her eyes. "Jax, then. And I'm Riley."
"I know." I step closer without meaning to. "Riley Chaffeur from Sacramento, here to evaluate my program out of existence."
"That's not my intention." She doesn't back away. "My job is to ensure the safety and welfare of those teens."
"And what about their futures? Their potential?" Another step brings me close enough to catch the scent of my soap on her skin. "Will your report consider what happens to them when they're sent back to programs that have already failed them?"
"I can only evaluate what I observe." Her voice has dropped to match my quieter tone. "But I observe more than you think."
Water drips from my hair onto my face. Without warning, she reaches up and brushes it away, her fingers light against my cheek. The contact is brief but electric.
We both freeze, caught in a moment neither of us planned. She's close enough that I can see the pulse beating in her throat, count the faint freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her lips part slightly, and my gaze drops to them.
"I should check the fire," I say, my voice rougher than intended.
She steps back immediately, wrapping her arms around herself. "Of course."
I turn away, focusing on the mundane task of adjusting logs that don't need adjusting. Behind me, I hear her move to the other side of the room.
"I'll take the couch," she says. "Kevin can use the spare bunk."
"The couch is too short for you." I keep my back to her, not trusting myself to look at her yet. "I'll wake Kevin and move him."
"No need to disturb him." Her voice is carefully professional again. "I'll be fine."
"Suit yourself." I finally turn around, maintaining a safe distance. "Extra blankets in the trunk if you need them."
"Thank you." She doesn't quite meet my eyes.
"I'll be in the bedroom if you need anything else." I move toward the door, then pause. "Goodnight, Riley."
