Page 11 of Getaway with the Mountain Man
"She's leaving in four days, Matt. Back to her real life. What's the point?"
"The point is that you've never looked at any woman the way you look at her. Not even Caroline." He wipes his hands on a rag, fixing me with a direct stare. "Sometimes the best things in life don't come easy. But that doesn't mean they're not worth fighting for."
His words echo in my head as the afternoon stretches on. By evening, I've made my decision. If Lottie wants distance, I'll give it to her. But I won't let her leave Silver Ridge thinking that what happened between us didn't matter.
This was so much more than another vacation fling with the local help.
seven
Lottie
Imakeitexactlysix hours before I start missing him.
Six hours of determinedly normal vacation activities—browsing shops on Main Street, taking photos for Instagram, reading by the lodge's pool. Six hours of telling myself I made the right choice, that keeping things simple protects us both from inevitable heartbreak.
Six hours of lying to myself while my body aches with the memory of his hands, his mouth, the way he made me come apart so completely I forgot my own name.
The truth is, Jakob Lindström has gotten under my skin in ways I didn't think were possible. Not just the physical attraction, though God knows that's intense enough to make me lose my mind. It's the way he listens when I talk, as if my words matter. The way he asks thoughtful questions about my work instead of just nodding politely. The way he makes me feel seen and appreciated for who I am, not just what I accomplish.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm grabbing my bag and heading for the lodge exit. I don't have a plan beyond finding Jakob and apologizing for my morning freak-out. What I'll say after that, I have no idea.
I drive the winding road until I spot a mailbox marked "Lindström," turning down a gravel drive that leads to a cabin that takes my breath away. It's perfect—not rustic in the rough-hewn way I expected, but elegant in its simplicity. Clean lines, large windows, a wraparound porch that takes advantage of spectacular views.
I knock before I lose my nerve.
The door opens to reveal Jakob in jeans and nothing else, his hair damp as if he's recently showered. His chest is bare, water droplets still clinging to the defined muscles I traced with my tongue just hours ago. My mouth goes dry at the sight, my body immediately responding despite my emotional turmoil.
His expression cycles through surprise, pleasure, and wariness in rapid succession.
"Lottie." My name sounds different in his voice—softer, more questioning than this morning.
"Hi," I say, suddenly aware of how inadequate that greeting is. "I was wondering if we could talk."
He steps back, gesturing me inside. "Of course. Come in."
He moves to the kitchen and opens a bottle of red wine with practiced efficiency.
"Here," Jakob says, returning with two glasses of wine.
I accept mine gratefully, using the first sip to gather courage. "I owe you an apology," I begin. "This morning, after breakfast, I was... unfair."
"You were honest," he corrects, settling into a chair across from me. "There's nothing wrong with knowing what you want."
"That's just it," I say, leaning forward earnestly. "I don't think I do know what I want. Not anymore."
Interest flickers in his eyes, but he remains silent, letting me find my words.
"Six months ago, I thought I had everything figured out," I continue. "Clear career goals, five-year plan, trajectory toward partnership at the firm. But honestly? I hate my job. I hate the long hours, the backstabbing, the meaningless corporate bullshit. I've been miserable for months."
"What changed?"
"Coming here, meeting you. It's made me realize I've been sleepwalking through my life." I take another sip of wine for courage. "Working eighty-hour weeks for people who don't value me, climbing a ladder I'm not even sure I want to reach the top of."
Jakob leans back in his chair, studying me with those impossibly green eyes. "So what do you want?"
"You," I say without hesitation, the word surprising us both with its certainty. "This. Whatever this is we've found together. This morning, when Vernon was talking about you being 'salt of the earth' and giving me the 'full Silver Ridge experience'... I got scared. Because suddenly you weren't just this incredible man I was falling for. You were someone real, someone who could matter."
His eyebrows raise as he begins to understand where I’m going with this.
