Page 5 of Rugged Courage

“The most important thing,” he stresses, “never turn and run. Trust me, that will be your first instinct, but you have to resist it with everything you’ve got. Running will only trigger their predatory instincts—and believe me, you can’t outrun a mountain lion.”

I nod, trying to absorb all the information. “Got it. No running. Stand my ground and look big and scary, right?”

Dane smiles, a genuine one this time. “That’s the idea. Though I have a feeling you’d be pretty intimidating even without trying.”

I laugh, surprised by the comment. “Was that a compliment or an insult?”

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Definitely a compliment. I’ve known you for less than a day, and I already know not to get on your bad side.”

I pass him the flask again. A small jolt of electricity runs through me when our fingers brush as he takes the flask from me.

“So,” I say, trying to distract myself from the heat building in my core. “Tell me about how you became such an expert tracker. You said you’ve been doing this for a year?”

Dane takes a sip before answering. “Officially, a year, yes. I learned most of it from my father. He was a hunter and took me out once I could hold a rifle. He taught me everything he knew.”

I smile, picturing a young Dane following his father through the woods. “That must have been nice. My outdoor education came mostly from my grandfather.”

“Oh yeah?” Dane says, interest piquing in his eyes. “What was that like?”

I lean back, memories washing over me. “It was amazing. Every summer, he’d take me camping in the Adirondacks. Taught me how to fish, start a fire, and navigate by the stars.”

“Sounds like he was a great teacher,” Dane says softly.

I nod, feeling a pang of nostalgia. “He was. I miss those trips.”

We fall into a comfortable silence, passing the flask back and forth. I take another sip of the whiskey and relax into the warmth of it.

“What about you?” I ask eventually. “Any fun camping stories from your youth?”

Dane chuckles. “Oh, plenty. But most of them involve my dad having to save me from some ridiculous situation I’d gotten myself into.”

“Like what?” I prompt, grinning.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Well, there was this one trip where I decided to catch a fish with my bare hands...”

I burst out laughing as Dane recounts the story, complete with dramatic reenactments. As he talks, I find myself studying him more closely. At first, I thought he was a giant trying to boss me around, but now I see he’s caring and funny. I glance at the flask and cap it, thinking maybe I’ve had too much tonight. Dane is, without a doubt, the most handsome—and huge—man I’ve ever seen, here to do his job. But it’s sure becoming harder to remember why I was so annoyed by his presence earlier.

“...and that’s why I always bring proper fishing gear now,” Dane finishes, grinning.

I wipe tears of laughter from my eyes. “That’s hilarious. I can’t believe you thought that would work!”

“Hey, I was ten,” he protests. “Everything seems possible when you’re ten.”

I nod, still smiling. “Fair enough. What did you do in the Army?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them, remembering how he dodged that question earlier. Dane’s expression shutters, the easy smile slipping from his face.

“Sorry,” I say quickly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

He shakes his head, forcing a small smile. “It’s fine. The Army...it’s not something I like to talk about.”

I nod, understanding all too well the desire to keep certain parts of your life private. “I get it. We all have our private stories, right?”

Dane looks at me, something unreadable in his eyes. “Yeah, we do.”

We lapse into silence again, but it’s not uncomfortable. I realize that I’m comfortable with Dane in a way I haven’t been with anyone in a long time—if ever—not even with my sister. I don’t feel like I have to be “on” or projecting an image, and I can just be me. Dane’s only mission is keeping me safe, not about how to get an in with my family.

It suddenly strikes me how different this feels from my interactions with other men. Dane’s presence is solid and reassuring but not overbearing. His protectiveness doesn’t feel like an attempt to control me but rather a genuine concern for my safety. He didn’t assume I was incapable, like so many men who have underestimated me, but he realized I was out of my depth, and he genuinely wanted to protect me—without having some kind of agenda.

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