Page 33 of Accidental Groom
I want to argue, want to tell him I don’t need his protection, but the truth is that the forest feels different with him here. Safer, I guess, but also more charged, like the air itself is holding its breath.
We walk in tense silence for a few minutes, the trail winding deeper into the reserve. The woods are gorgeous, towering trees that must be centuries old, clearing where wildflowers bloom in defiance of the season's cusp. It’s the kind of place that makes it seem obvious why people used to worship in the woods instead of churches.
“How much land is this?” I ask, breathing the unbearable silence just to let myself breathe in it.
“Fifteen thousand acres.” He steps over a fallen log, his hand outstretched in offering to help me over it, but I ignore him. “It’s been in the family for four generations.”
“And you just… leave it wild?” I ask, raising a brow at him.
“Mostly,” he says, glancing at me. “There are a few structures scattered throughout. A few maintenance buildings, observation posts, things like that.”
We round a bend in the trail, and I stop, blinking at the sight in front of me.
Nestled in a clearing beside a crystal clear stream, what can only be described as a luxury camping retreat sits undisturbed and empty. Canvas tents on raised wooden platforms, connected by boardwalks, furnished with what looks like actual furniture. There’s a central fire pit surrounded by Adirondack chairs, and even from here, I can see solar panels gleaming on the roof of what must be a shower and bathroom facility.
“What thehellis that?” I ask.
Harry’s hands slide into his pockets, and for the first time since he caught up with me, he looks almost… embarrassed? Sheepish? “Glamping site. We built it around five years ago.”
“We?”
“The foundation. Highcourt Environmental Preservation.” He walks toward the camp, and I follow, studying every single thing I can see like it might disappear if I blink. “The idea was to offer eco-luxury experiences to raise money for conservation efforts. Let city people experience nature without having to actually rough it.”
I step onto one of the boardwalks, running my hand along the polished wood railing. Everything is expertly crafted, expensive, and obviously entirely unused. “But…?”
“But the board decided it was too remote, too hard to market.” He shrugs. “It’s been sitting empty since we built it, but I’ve slept out here a handful of times.”
I turn to stare at him. “You built this entire thing and just abandoned it?”
“We maintain it,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “In case we ever decide to try again.”
“That’s…” I shake my head, trying to process what I’m seeing, what I want to say. “Do you realize how insane this is? In a good way, I mean. So many people would kill for an experience like this.”
His expression shifts, his brows raising, something almost vulnerable flickering across his face. “You like it?”
“Likeit? Harry, this is amazing.” I walk to the edge of the platform and look out over the stream, the sunlight dancing on the water, the birds flitting between the trees. “You could host corporate retreats, wellness weekends, romantic getaways — the potential is endless.”
“Yeah, well, the board thought?—”
“The board is stupid and wrong.” I turn back to him, and for a moment, I forget to be angry — forget to maintain distance. “This isn’t just beautiful, it’s meaningful. You’re preserving all this land, keeping it wild instead of selling it off for development like most sane people would do. Do you have any idea how rare that is?”
He watches me carefully, his fingers tightening around the railing. “This matters to you,” he says, as if it’s something that shouldn’t.
“Of course it matters. This is…” I gesture around us, at the forest, the camp, the stream, thelife. “This is legacy. Real legacy, not just profit margins and market expansion, like my parents focus on. This is real. And it’s important.”
For a heartbeat, he just stares at me, both of us holding eye contact across the platform. I can feel that dangerous pull again, that stupid, magnetic force that seems to draw me to him too much.
Then his gaze flicks to my mouth and reality crashes back down like a tidal wave.
I take a step back. “Still fucking weird that you’ve got trail cameras monitoring everyone who sets foot on your property, though.”
The moment shatters, his jaw twitching. “The cameras are for security and safety.”
“Right, right, security and safety.” I cross my arms. “Tell me — how many camerasarethere? Just the trails, or do you have the cottage under surveillance too?”
His eyes roll hard enough that all I see is a flash of white for a split second. “Elena?—”
“You just seem to have a real talent for showing up when I’m in states of peril. Hiking alone in bear-infested woods, naked and about to bathe. Maybe you’ve been watching and waiting for the right time to strike.”
