Page 17 of His Wild Desire

Squaring my shoulders, I nod once in curt acknowledgment.

Emma's shoulders slump infinitesimally. "Right. Well, thanks for the hospitality, I guess."

With that, she turns on her heel and strides toward the waiting Jeep without a backward glance, her head held high. Garrett pauses for a beat, shooting me an indecipherable look before following after her with a shake of his head.

I remain rooted to that spot on the porch, my arms crossed over my chest as he loads Emma's duffel bag and ushers her into the passenger side. She climbs in, her eyes carefully trained ahead to avoid meeting my shuttered gaze one final time.

The Jeep's engine roars to life, the tires spitting up dust and gravel as Garrett throws it into reverse. I follow its slow progression down the narrow mountain trail with a carefully blank expression, refusing to allow even the briefest flicker of emotion to crack my stony exterior.

It's only once the Jeep has rounded the final bend, the rumbling growl of its engine fading into the distance, that I finally release the breath I've been holding on a harsh exhale.

Moving on autopilot, I duck back inside and make my way to the rumpled bed, sinking down onto the edge of the mattress. The scent of Emma’s sweat and floral perfume still clings faintly to the tangled sheets. My fingers tighten in the soft cotton as a wave of longing so visceral it's nearly painful washes over me.

And just like that, the dam I've spent so long fortifying against the world cracks.

Just a few short days in Emma’s company, and suddenly, the thought of resuming my solitary mountain man routine is as appealing as gouging out my own eyes with a dull hunting knife.

Maybe Garrett was right.

Maybe it is time.

Time to let go of this self-imposed isolation and open myself back up to the world—to possibilities and human connection and... hell, even love, as terrifying as that prospect might be. Because the truth is, I've felt more alive these past few days than I have in years. More present, more grounded in each moment instead of drifting through life as a ghost.

Emma forced me to face parts of myself I thought had shriveled up and died long ago. She reignited that spark of passion, of pure, unbridled joy in the simple act of living life to its absolute fullest. And yeah, maybe she's still a total disaster in the wilderness, but she was always game to try.

With a growl of frustration, I surge to my feet and begin pacing the cramped confines of the cabin like a caged animal. My hands clench and unclench at my sides as that aching sense of emptiness threatens to swallow me whole.

Raking a hand through my disheveled hair, I blow out a harsh breath and pivot on my heel. This internal pity party ends now.

It's time to start living again.

And the only way I can imagine doing it is with Emma by my side.

Chapter 8

Emma

The harsh blare of my desphone shatters the tranquil daydream. I blink rapidly, the crisp alpine air and whispering pines evaporating in a haze of disappointment as my sleek office swims back into focus.

"You're a million miles away again," Aspen remarks with a teasing lilt, watching me knowingly over the rim of her iced coffee.

I huff an exasperated sigh, minimizing the browser window full of real estate listings in the Silverpine area.

"Can you blame me? Just look at this place." I gesture vaguely at the stark, industrial-chic interior, all polished concrete and cold steel.

Aspen arches one perfectly sculpted brow, following my gaze around the open bullpen filled with a cacophony of furious keyboard tapping and hushed phone conversations. "It's an advertising agency, not a yoga retreat. You knew that going in."

"I know, I know." I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to ease the tension building behind my eyes. "It's just... ever since my trip to Silverpine, I can't stop thinking about how much simpler life could be. No corporate rat race, no constant pressure to perform. Just existing. Being present."

A wistful smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as memories of my blissful sojourn in the Rockies come flooding back—the solitude, the freedom, the way each breath tasted fresher and more invigorating than the last.

Leaning back in my chair, I let my mind drift to the charming mountain home I'd envisioned, all rough-hewn beams and river stone fireplaces surrounded by endless acres of towering pines. It would be the perfect sanctuary to escape the oppressive grind of the city, a place to truly unwind.

"You've got it bad, don't you?" Aspen's amused voice shatters my reverie.

I blink, my cheeks flushing at the knowing look she levels my way. "What? No! It's not like that at all."

The blatant lie feels clumsy and unconvincing even to my own ears. Of course, I can't tell Aspen the truth—that my wistful daydreams have as much to do with a certain rugged, blue-eyed mountain man as with the breathtaking scenery. She'd never let me live it down.

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