Page 19 of Trusting the Grumpy Mountain Man
"Big if." I finish packing the equipment, then turn to face her fully. "What does Riley Chaffeur think? Not the department. You."
It’s clear the directness of my question catches her off guard. She looks away, considering her answer.
"I think..." She meets my eyes again. "I think you've created something special here. Something that works despite breaking conventional rules. Maybe because it breaks them."
The admission costs her something. I can see it in the conflict behind her eyes, the professional boundaries being tested by what she's witnessed.
"Thank you for seeing that." My voice comes out rougher than intended.
"I'm still going to document the violations," she warns.
"I know." I step closer, drawn by something I can't name. "But seeing beyond them matters."
The clearing has emptied, the teens' voices fading toward the mess cabin. We stand alone in the golden hour light, the air between us electric.
"Jax." My name on her lips sounds like a question.
I shouldn't cross this line. She's evaluating my program. She's too young, too different, too temporary in my world. But the way she's looking at me demolishes every rational objection.
"Tell me to step back," I murmur, giving her the choice.
Instead, she closes the distance between us, rising on tiptoes as her hands come to rest lightly on my chest. The invitation is clear, consent given in the parting of her lips and the warmth in her eyes.
I cup her face in my hands and lower my mouth to hers.
The first touch is tentative, a question asked and answered in the soft press of lips. Then something ignites, caution burning away in the heat of connection. Her mouth opens under mine, inviting deeper exploration. I slide one hand to the back of her neck, cradling her head as I taste her fully.
She makes a small sound of surrender that travels straight to my core. Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer as she responds with an eagerness that eggs me on.
The kiss deepens, intensifies. I back her against the climbing wall, bracketing her with my arms as her body arches toward mine. Her response is both innocent and hungry.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen from my kiss, her eyes wide with wonder and something like shock at her own response.
"That was..." She touches her fingers to her lips.
"Just the beginning," I finish for her, voice rough with desire.
Reality intrudes with the distant sound of the teens calling for us. Dinner is ready, our absence noted. I step back reluctantly, creating necessary space between us.
"We should join them," she says, attempting to recover her professional demeanor despite the flush in her cheeks.
"We should." I reach out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, savoring the way she leans into my touch. "This conversation isn't over, Riley."
"No," she agrees softly. "It isn't."
We walk toward the mess cabin, careful not to touch, though everything in me wants to reach for her hand. The teens watch us enter with knowing looks that suggest our absence was discussed.
"Everything okay, Mr. Reeves?" Jesse asks, barely suppressing a smirk.
"Just securing the climbing equipment," I answer, my stern expression daring him to comment further.
"Ms. Chaffeur was helping," Mia adds innocently. "She’s very dedicated to understanding all aspects of the program."
Riley's blush deepens, but she handles the thinly veiled teasing with grace. "Professional thoroughness is important in any evaluation."
A few poorly hidden snickers suggest the teens aren't fooled, but they drop the subject when I give them The Look. Teenagers miss nothing, especially emotional undercurrents between adults.
Throughout dinner, I find my eyes drawn to Riley repeatedly. She participates in the conversation, answering questions about Sacramento and her work with other teens. The wall between her and the group has thinned considerably since her arrival.
