Page 8 of Kissing My Mountain Man

I study Landry closely as we continue on. Her head comes up from time to time and then drops back down to her feet. She’s still worried about tripping, but I won’t let that happen.

My gaze moves down her body, taking in every dip and curve. That ass of hers sways in front of me with each step, and it takes everything in me to keep my body from reacting the way it wants to respond. I need to get myself under control, and it’s starting to get uncomfortable.

Just as we turn a bend in the hike, I see the lover’s knot tree.

“There it is,” I say.

“What?” Landry stops and looks around. “Where?”

I come up behind her and point over her shoulder to the two trees whose trunks are bent and wrapped around one another in a knot. It’s not something you see every day in nature, and it was likely done by someone when the two trees were saplings many years ago.

“The lover’s knot,” I whisper. She follows my finger to where I’m pointing. “The homestead is just beyond the trees.”

Her eyes light up as she moves her head, and a piece of the structure can be seen between the trees.

Forgetting her concern about falling again, Landry takes off running. But I don’t miss how she favors her right foot a bit more as she moves. I should’ve known that she wasn’t being completely honest about her injury. The need to see Clara’s homestead in person supersedes any pain Landry might be feeling from her fall.

I still can’t get over how a woman like Clara Bishop survived up here on her own, and that’s not a reflection of her gender. Living up here on the mountain in this century would be hard enough but take away all the modern luxuries we take for granted, like running water, electricity, or indoor plumbing, and I wouldn’t be able to do it.

“Are you coming?” Landry yells back to me.

I follow her up the remainder of the path to the clearing that opens up just beyond the trees. The old log cabin still stands, the same as it did over a century ago—a reflection of the strong woman who built it.

I’ve kept most of what I’ve been feeling behind a serious expression this whole time, but witnessing Landry’s genuine excitement to be here has a smile spreading across my face that I can’t stop.

Landry runs around the old cabin, never staying in one spot for long before moving on to the next. Her hands move lightly over the structure like there might be some hidden portal to send her back in time to when the house was occupied.

After making a complete circle, she finally stops by the front window and leans close to look in. I watch as she lifts her hand to shield her eyes so that she can see into the cloudy glass.

“This is incredible,” she says, smiling over at me. “I mean, I’ve seen pictures, but just being here is something completely different.”

“Are you going to go inside?”

“Can I?” she asks, her eyes growing even wider.

I laugh. “I didn’t bring you up all this way to just stand outside.”

Landry tries to open the door, but the old thing doesn’t move. She tries again—no such luck.

This door hasn’t been open in decades. And the elements probably expanded the wood, making it tighten inside the door frame.

The other rangers and I work hard to try and make sure tourists don’t make it up this way to disturb the history of this place. This homestead was on this land before it became a national park. But thanks to someone at the university, Landry has been given special permission to go inside.

She huffs and uses her shoulder to shove with all her might, but the door still won’t budge.

I run over to her. The rocks and twigs crunched under my boots with every step. “Mind if I give it a try?”

“Yes, please.” She steps back to give me some room.

Using my shoulder, I lean and put my weight into the door, but it only creeks a bit. I try again, this time putting more force into it, but it only shakes and doesn’t open.

“Step back,” I grumble, hating that this damn door is making me look like a jackass in front of Landry.

I take a few steps back, ignoring the amusement on her face as I run forward and slam my body hard into the door. It bursts open, and I stumble to catch myself to keep from falling on my face. But as I do this, my foot goes straight through one of the rotted floorboards.

“Are you hurt?” Landry asks, rushing in behind me.

I wiggle my foot a bit to ensure nothing’s hurt. Thankfully I don’t feel any of the telltale signs that I’ve broken something.

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