Page 20 of Trusting the Grumpy Mountain Man
As has the wall between us.
What happens now? She leaves tomorrow, taking her evaluation back to supervisors who want my program shut down. Our kiss changes nothing about her professional obligations or my responsibilities to these kids.
Yet it changes everything about how I see her. About how I see possibilities I'd stopped considering years ago.
Riley catches me watching her and holds my gaze across the table, a silent acknowledgment passing between us. Whatever this is, whatever it might become, it started with honesty. With seeing each other clearly despite our differences.
For a beat, I allow myself to lean into the unfamiliar warmth of connection with a woman who climbed my walls, literal and metaphorical, with the same determined grace.
And wonder where she might lead me if I follow.
CHAPTER SIX
RILEY
The day has been a blur since our kiss by the climbing wall this morning. Every time Jax and I make eye contact, electricity crackles between us, though we've maintained careful distance in front of the teens. My skin still tingles with the memory of his mouth on mine, his strong hands cupping my face with unexpected tenderness.
Evening has settled over the camp, the teens gathered around the outdoor fire pit after dinner. I've spent the afternoon pretending to focus on my evaluation while actually replaying our kiss in my mind, wondering if it was a one-time moment of weakness or something more.
Jax stands before the group, commanding attention without raising his voice. "I have an announcement," he says, his deep voice carrying easily in the crisp evening air. "You've all completed the required wilderness survival training successfully."
The teens exchange curious glances, sensing something significant coming.
"Starting tonight," Jax continues, "you've all earned bunkhouse privileges."
Cheers erupt from the group, high-fives exchanged even between former antagonists like Darius and Kevin. Three days of shared challenges have forged connections I wouldn't have believed possible when I arrived.
"Real beds," Mia sighs dramatically. "I never thought I'd miss something so basic."
"Appreciate what you have by experiencing its absence," Jax says, quoting what I've come to recognize as one of his core philosophies. "Now go get your gear from the shelters and set up in the bunkhouse. Jesse's in charge of assignments."
As the teens disperse, excitement energizing their movements, Jax approaches me by the fire. The flames cast shadows across his face, highlighting those sharp cheekbones and the intensity in his blue eyes.
"Completing your report tonight?" he asks, voice neutral though his eyes hold heat.
"I should organize my notes," I clutch my tablet like a shield. "Make sure I haven't missed anything."
"Your evaluation ended about an hour ago," he points out, checking his watch. "You asked for three days. Time's up."
I blink, realizing he's right. My official observation period concluded at 8 PM, exactly 72 hours after my arrival. "I suppose it did."
"Yet you're still here." A smile plays at the corners of his mouth. "The roads have been clear for two days now."
Heat rises to my cheeks. He's right again. The storm passed, the roads dried, and I've had plenty of opportunities to return to town. To Sacramento. To my real life.
"I wanted to be thorough," I say, not quite meeting his eyes.
"Thorough," he repeats, stepping closer. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
Before I can respond, Tyler calls for Jax from the direction of the bunkhouse. Something about proper bunk assignments and a dispute with Kevin.
"Duty calls," Jax says, his voice lowered for my ears only. "Meet me in the admin cabin in an hour?"
It's framed as a question, but the heat in his eyes makes it feel like much more. A promise. An invitation.
"I'll be there," I answer, my voice steadier than I feel.
As he walks away, I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. What am I doing? I came here to evaluate a program, not fall for its ruggedly handsome director. But something has shifted since that first antagonistic meeting, something fundamental in how I see both the program and the man behind it.
