Page 5 of Valentine's Day With The Mountain Man

"Is that what you search for? In your photography?" I ask, turning to catch his expression.

"Sometimes." His eyes meet mine, and I see a flicker of kinship. "But today, it's about sharing it, with you."

As we explore each corner, I trace the outlines of furniture with my fingertips, feeling the grooves and textures of another life. There's beauty here, even in the decay. "Imagine the stories this place could tell," I muse aloud, half to myself.

"Maybe it's waiting for someone to listen," Liam replies, his hand hovering just above the small of my back, not quite touching, but sending ripples of awareness down my spine.

"Or maybe for someone to add their own story," I suggest, my heart racing at the thought.

"Could be." He smiles, and there's a knowing look in his eyes that tells me he understands me on a deeper level.

We leave the cabin as the sun begins to rise high in the sky. The forest feels different now, more intimate, as if we've become part of its narrative. Liam leads the way, his strides confident as we head back to the inn.

"Thank you, for letting me come out here with you today," I say, the words tumbling out, weighted with gratitude. "I never expected..."

"Neither did I," he cuts in, his tone warm. "Sometimes, the best moments are the ones you don't see coming." Liam turns, his smile the brightest thing in the encroaching dusk. "I had such an amazing time with you," he admits, his hand reaching for mine, a perfect fit.

"Me too," I reply, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest. Our fingers intertwine naturally, as if they've found a missing piece.

5

LIAM

The first rays of the sun spill over the mountain peaks, painting the world in hues of amber and gold as a new morning dawns. Mia is by my side once more as we venture out of Cedar Lodge.

Iris, with her unfailing intuition, saw us coming down for breakfast and said that we might enjoy the Valentine's Day festival. We lounged around the Lodge for a couple of hours before deciding that she was right.

"Looks like it's going to be a beautiful day," Mia observes, pulling her scarf a little tighter around her neck.

"Perfect for a festival," I agree, as we set off on the path leading away from the inn. The trail is a kaleidoscope of color, vibrant flowers strung through the trees by the towns people. Laughter floats on the breeze, coming from the town square. In this moment, reality seems to blur, and I'm a character in some fanciful tale, walking beside a woman who could very well be a modern-day princess. Maybe even mine.

As we reach the town square, it's as if we've stumbled upon a hidden gem. Banners in every shade of red and pink dance in the wind, while twinkling lights wrap around the wooden structures like vines of stars. A local band plays a tune that tugs at the heartstrings, infusing the air with a melody of longing and love.

"Isn't this neat?" Mia grins.

"It's more than I expected," I concede, my gaze following her as she moves with childlike excitement. She stops at a vendor booth to try cotton candy, her laughter mingling with the sounds of the festival, a sound that's quickly becoming my favorite.

The scent of chocolate weaves through the crisp air, pulling us away from the cotton candy and toward a rustic stall draped in red velvet. Mia's face blooms with delight as her gaze lands on the glossy strawberries, each one cloaked in a rich, dark shell.

"Oh my gosh, I love chocolate-covered strawberries!" Her exclamation dances between us.

"Then let's get some," I say, already reaching for my wallet. The vendor hands us a box, and Mia's fingers brush against mine as she takes it, sending an unexpected jolt up my arm. We meander through the throngs of people, sharing the decadent treat. The chocolate cracks and gives way to the sweet tang beneath, a symphony of flavors that mirrors the growing complexity of my feelings for her. Just a couple of days ago, she was a stranger. Now she's someone I enjoy spending time with. What a difference a day makes.

"Hey, look, one of those old fashion photo booths," I point out, noting the array of colorful props and hats strewn across a table nearby. "How about we take some pictures?" I can’t help the mischievous glint that sneaks into my gaze, a playful side of me that Mia seems to effortlessly draw out. I want to capture this moment and live in it forever.

"Absolutely!" she replies, laughter spilling from her lips like music. We duck inside the booth, donning oversized glasses and silly hats, our laughter mingling with the mechanical whirl of the camera. Snap after snap, we freeze moments of unguarded hilarity, of a connection blossoming in spontaneity.

"Your turn to wear the feather boa," Mia teases, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she drapes the flamboyant accessory around my neck. I pose with exaggerated flair, earning a round of giggles from her. In these snapshots, I find a kindred spirit—someone whose laughter is as open and free as the mountain streams I so love to photograph.

We emerge from the booth, cheeks flushed with mirth. The sound of carnival games beckons, and I'm taken back to my youth.

"Shall we?" I challenge, gesturing toward the nearest game with a grin.

"Bring it on, Mr. Photographer." Mia's competitive gleam is irresistible, her eagerness pulling me into the fray.

A basketball shootout stands before us, and we fall into the rhythm of the game, our shots arcing through the air—one after the other. Each swish of the net is a victory, each miss a chance to rib the other. Mia's final shot sinks just as the buzzer sounds, her win by a single point eliciting a triumphant cheer from her and a feigned pout from me.

"Nice shooting," I concede, admiration lacing my tone. But this battle isn't over yet. We move on to the ring toss, where Mia proves her aim is true, landing all five rings with grace. I watch, impressed.

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