Page 15 of Broken Mountain Man

"So, you really were in the military, huh?"

Russell's expression shutters closed again instantly, "Enough about that," he says gruffly. "We need to move on to the next lesson."

He rises to his feet, already turning away to gather his supplies.

"I shouldn't have mentioned it," he says.

Scrambling upright to follow, I resist the urge to push the subject further. For now.

"And what's on the docket next, oh wise wilderness guru?" I ask instead, keeping my tone light and casual.

Russell shoots me a look over his shoulder, one eyebrow quirked.

"You're just full of snark today, aren't you?"

"Hey, I have to keep myself entertained somehow," I counter with a grin. "This survivalist crash course of yours isn't exactly a riveting thrill ride."

His lips twitch, the barest hint of a smirk.

"Just wait till we get to the good stuff. Trust me, you won't be bored for long."

Chapter 8 - Russell

I grit my teeth, fuming inwardly at my own careless slip about my military background. The last thing I want is for Lyla to start prying deeper, uncovering the ugly truths I've fought so hard to bury out here.

She doesn't need to be dragged into the darkness that haunts me, the grief and regrets I can never escape no matter how far I isolate myself. This girl is better off knowing as little as possible before she inevitably moves on with her life, putting this strange detour firmly behind her.

The smart move would be to cut ties right now—tell her our deal is off, that she needs to go, and shut it all down before either of us gets in too deep. But even as the rational part of my brain screams at me to do just that, I can't quite make myself say the words.

Lyla grins up at me, eyes sparkling with a strange mix of challenge and excitement.

"Alright, alright, what do you have for me next? I'm ready for anything."

A reluctant smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth before I can stop it. She looks every inch the feisty wildflower right now—cheeks flushed with color, strands of chestnut curls escaping her messy bun to cling damply to her skin, and those full lips parted slightly as she draws in heavy breaths.

I have to tear my gaze away, refocusing with an effort on tightening the straps of my pack.

"Don't get too cocky," I growl out, struggling to keep my tone gruff. "We're just getting started."

It would be so easy to get swept away by her, to let myself get lured into reciprocating those heated looks and teasing words. But that's a dangerous game I can't afford to play, no matter how tempting the prize.

I am a broken man, after all—one who has long since forfeited any right to the kind of happiness and light someone like Lyla represents.

With a clenched jaw, I jerk my chin towards the direction we'll be heading.

"This way. We've got a lot more ground to cover today."

There's no responding sassy quip or banter this time as Lyla falls obediently into step behind me.

We keep trekking in silence for what feels like miles. Finally, I stop us in a small clearing littered with various bushes and shrubs bearing different kinds of berries.

"Next survival lesson," I announce gruffly. "Foraging for food. You'll need to learn which of these are edible and which are poisonous."

Lyla nods, already scanning our surroundings with keen eyes. After a contemplative pause, she glances back at me.

"Can we maybe stop by that lake afterward? I could really use a chance to freshen up a bit."

The innocent request has me stilling, mind immediately conjuring images of Lyla stripping down, water sluicing over soft curves. I give myself a harsh inward shake, jaw clenching hard.

---