Page 4 of Valentine's Day With The Mountain Man

The fire pops, a spark flying up unexpectedly, and I feel the weight of something momentous resting on my shoulders. I was supposed to spend this Valentine's alone, surrounded by the beauty of nature. And instead, I find myself with a stranger, who is just as beautiful and awe-inspiring as the mountains I'd planned to photograph.

4

MIA

The first golden fingers of sunlight slip through the curtains. I stir, the cocoon of sleep unraveling from around me as I blink away the remnants of dreams.

Liam is already awake, perched in the rumpled sheets, his fingers a flurry over the laptop keyboard. "Morning." His voice is soft, apologetic almost, and he glances my way with those deep-set eyes that seem like they're seeing right into me. "Did I wake you?"

I shake my head, still half-draped in warmth and drowsiness. "No, the sun took care of that." It's such a domestic moment that I let myself bask in the sheer normalcy of it.

"Good." He smiles, but there's a flicker of something—hesitation?—before he closes his laptop with a decisive snap. "Hey, do you want to join me on a walk this morning? I'm chasing the sunrise."

"Chasing the sunrise?" The poetic phrase catches me off guard, igniting a flutter in my chest.

"Yeah," he says, standing up now, stretching in a way that makes the muscles in his arms stand out. "I have this photography assignment for the magazine, and I need the first light hitting the trees."

"Sounds perfect." I'm out of bed before I fully register the decision, drawn by the promise of beauty through his lens—and the quiet excitement of being beside him as the world awakens.

The chill of the morning nips at my cheeks, but the warmth of Liam's enthusiasm is a balm against the cold. As we tread the path, conversation flows as naturally as the river beside us. I learn that Liam's laughter comes easily, especially when I recount the time I tried to turn my classroom into a makeshift rainforest, only to be met with an escaped iguana and a room full of shrieking third-graders.

"Adventure seems to follow you," he teases, and there's a glint of admiration in his eyes that makes my heart flutter like leaves in the wind.

I return the sentiment, asking about the wildest places his camera has taken him. With each tale of remote landscapes and close encounters with wildlife, I'm drawn deeper into the allure of his world—a tapestry woven from threads of untamed beauty and the thrill of preservation.

"Look there," Liam suddenly pauses, pointing towards a clearing in the distance where mist rises around a waterfall cascading into an azure pool. The sight steals my breath; I've never seen water catch the light quite like that, as if it's shimmering with its own inner fire.

"Want to give it a shot?" Liam offers me his camera with a smile that's both an invitation and a challenge.

I hesitate, the weight of the professional equipment unfamiliar in my hands. "What if I?—"

"Drop it? Take a bad photo?" He chuckles softly. "I trust you, Mia. Besides, every shot tells a story, whatever the outcome."

With my finger poised on the shutter button, I peer through the viewfinder, framing the scene. My pulse quickens as I adjust the focus, the waterfall sharpening into clarity. I press down, and the camera clicks, capturing the dance of water and light. It's exhilarating, this creation of stillness from chaos, and I find myself laughing, eager for more.

"See? You're a natural," Liam says, his voice a low hum of approval that resonates somewhere deep within me.

Emboldened by his faith in me, I suggest we delve further into the woods. The trees stand as silent sentinels to our passage, their branches heavy with snow, transforming the forest into a hushed, white cathedral. Our footfalls are the only sound, punctuating the soft whisper of the winter breeze.

There, nestled among the sentinel pines, lies a cabin. Its wood is aged to silver, and it crouches beneath the weight of years. Curiosity draws us closer. Each step reveals more of the structure—the sagging roof, the windows opaque with grime, the door ajar as if inviting secrets to spill forth.

"Looks like it's been here forever," I murmur, my breath forming clouds that drift lazily upwards.

"Time capsules have a way of hiding in plain sight," Liam replies, his hand brushing against mine as we step over the threshold together.

Inside, the air is thick with stories long since faded to whispers. We move through the space, careful not to disturb the dust motes dancing in the slanting beams of sunlight. The remnants of the cabin's former life lay scattered about: a chair, a frayed rug, and against all odds, a pile of yellowed paper with words etched into its lines.

"Imagine what was dreamt up here," I say, the thought sending a shiver of excitement through me that has nothing to do with the cold.

"Perhaps it's not too late to find out," Liam suggests, his gaze holding mine.

In this moment, surrounded by the echoes of past inspirations, I feel the stirrings of my own creativity, intertwined with the gentle pull of something new and entirely unexpected blossoming between Liam and I.

"Look at these," Liam breathes out, his voice a low hum that vibrates through the stillness. He steps beside me, close enough that I feel the warmth radiating from him. His finger gently nudges my arm, directing my gaze to a painting where light seems to dance amongst the trees.

"Someone loved this place," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"More than love, I think." He's contemplative. "It was a refuge—a sanctuary to create, to be alone with nature."

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