Page 1 of Burning Mountains

1

ZOE

Itook a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves asIpulled up toWindRiverMountainLodge.Themajestic peaks loomed before me, their snow-capped summits piercing the sky like nature's own bad hair day.Itwas a far cry from the urban jungle ofDenver, but asIstepped out of my car,Ifelt a thrill of excitement coursing through my veins – or maybe that was just the four espressosI'dchugged on the drive.

"Thisis it,Zoe,"Iwhispered to myself, smoothing down my blazer. "Timeto show these mountain folk what a real wedding planner can do.Spoileralert: it involves a lot of glitter."

Istrode confidently towards the lodge, my mind already racing with visions of the most spectacular mountain weddingWyominghad ever seen.Fairylights twinkling against rugged pine trees, wildflower bouquets cascading down rustic wooden tables, the happy couple exchanging vows with the breathtakingRockiesas their backdrop.Itwould be perfect.Ithad to be perfect.OrelseI'dhave to fake my own death and move toBelize.

Myheels sank into the muddy terrain, andIstumbled.Iglanced around, hoping no one had noticed, and quickened my pace.Thelast thingIneeded was to look like some city slicker who couldn't handle a little dirt.Iwas a sophisticated urban professional, damn it!I'donce survived a sample sale atBarneys– this was nothing!

AsIneared the lodge, a gust of wind whipped my hair across my face.Ilooked up to see dark, ominous clouds rolling in, looking like they were ready to star in their own disaster movie.Theair seemed to thicken, crackling with electricity, and a shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the dropping temperature and everything to do with my irrational fear of being turned into a human lightning rod.

Unbidden, memories of another stormy day flooded my mind.Thechurch bells ringing, my white dress spread out around me like a deflated parachute asIsat alone at the altar, mascara streaking down my cheeks asIrealized he wasn't coming.Thepitying looks, the whispers, the overwhelming sense of failure...Itwas like a bad rom-com, minus the com and heavy on the tragic.

Ishook my head, banishing the thoughts faster thanI'dbanish a client who wanted to useComicSanson their wedding invitations.Thatwas then, this was now.IwasZoeMitchell,Denver'stop wedding planner, andIwas here to conquer new territory.Noman, no mountain, and certainly no memory was going to stand in my way.Iwas woman, hear me roar!Orat least, hear me complain about the lack of decent sushi in ruralWyoming.

ButasIreached for the lodge's heavy wooden door, a crack of thunder split the air.Ijumped, my hand flying to my chest as my heart raced faster than a bride sprinting towards a 90%off sale atDavid'sBridal.Rainbegan to pour down in sheets, andIdarted back to my car, barely making it inside before the downpour drenched me completely.

"Okay, slight change of plans,"Imuttered, fumbling for my keys. "I'lljust wait this out and make my grand entrance once the storm passes."

Iturned the key in the ignition, planning to at least run the heat and dry off a bit.Butinstead of the comforting purr of the engine,Iheard an ominous clicking sound.Mystomach dropped faster than my ex-fiancé's pants when he met his secretary.

"No, no, no,"Ipleaded, trying the key again. "Comeon, baby, don't do this to me now.IpromiseI'llstop calling you a glorified golf cart if you just start!"

Butmy faithful city car, so reliable onDenver'spaved streets, seemed to have given up the ghost in the face ofWyoming'swild weather.Islumped back in my seat, a sense of panic rising within me that rivaled my fear of running out of hairspray mid-wedding ceremony.HereIwas, trapped in a dead car as a storm raged around me, in the middle of nowhere.Itwas like the start of every horror movieI'dever seen, minus the attractive but ultimately doomed teenagers.

Anothercrack of thunder made me jump so highInearly gave myself a concussion on the car roof.Ifumbled for my phone.Nosignal.Ofcourse.Iwas truly on my own out here, with only my wit, charm, and extensive collection of emergency beauty products to save me.

Thewind howled rocking my little car as if it were a baby's cradle.Rainlashed against the windows with increasing fury.Ihugged myself tightly, trying to quell the fear that threatened tooverwhelm me.Thiswasn't how it was supposed to go.Iwas supposed to sweep in, dazzle everyone with my expertise, and prove once and for all thatIcould handle anything life threw at me.Instead,Iwas cowering in my car like a scared little girl, all my big city bravado washed away by the mountain rain faster than cheap mascara.

Aresounding crack split the air, different from the thunder.Myhead snapped up just in time to see a massive pine tree, uprooted by the gale, toppling towards me.Timeseemed to slow asIwatched it fall, my mind blank with terror and filled with regret that my last meal had been a sad, stale granola bar instead of something fabulous like truffle risotto.

Thiswas it.Thiswas howIwas going to die.Crushedin my useless car, beforeIeven had a chance to prove myself.Myobituary would read: "HereliesZoeMitchell, flattened by flora.Shecame, she saw, she got squashed."

Thetree crashed down mere feet away, the impact shaking the ground and sending my heart into overdrive.Iscreamed, the sound lost in the howling wind, as branches scraped against the roof of my car.

Suddenly, through the rain-streaked windshield,Isaw a figure emerging from the storm.Tall, broad-shouldered, moving with the confidence of someone who knew this wild land like the back of their hand.Fora moment,Iwondered ifIwas hallucinating, conjuring up some mountain spirit to save me in my hour of need.Maybeall those patchouli-scented crystals myNewAgeaunt had given me were finally paying off.

Butas he drew closer,Irealized this was no spirit.Thiswas a man, as real and solid as the mountains themselves, and hot enough to melt all the snow on those peaks.Hereached my carin a few long strides, andIfound myself staring into the most intense pair of blue eyesI'dever seen.Theywere like sapphires, if sapphires could smolder and make you forget your own name.

Heyanked my door open, rain and wind whipping around him. "Areyou okay?" he shouted over the storm, his voice deep and gravelly enough to make gravel itself jealous.

Inodded mutely, still too shocked to speak.Myusual razor-sharp wit had apparently decided to take an impromptu vacation, leaving me with all the eloquence of a stunned goldfish.

"Weneed to get you out of here," he said, his eyes scanning the area. "Thattree could shift any moment.Comeon!"

Withoutwaiting for a response, he reached in and scooped me up into his arms as ifIweighed nothing, which was a testament either to his strength or to the effectiveness of my latest juice cleanse.Igasped, instinctively wrapping my arms around his neck as he carried me away from my car.Thescent of pine and leather enveloped me.

Myheart raced, pounding against my ribcage.Theworld tilted and spun around me, rain pelting my face, wind roaring in my ears.Butthrough it all,Iwas acutely aware of the solid warmth of the stranger's chest, the strength in his arms as he held me securely against him.Hismuscles rippled beneath my fingertips, andIfought the urge to explore them further.Ashiver ran down my spine, andIwasn't sure if it was from the cold, the electricity crackling between us, or the realization that this was the most actionI'dgotten since my ex left me at the altar.

Mybreath hitched as his grip tightened, pulling me impossibly closer.Icould feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, a soothingcounterpoint to the samba my own heart was attempting.Hisstubbled jaw brushed against my forehead, sending tingles across my skin.

Aswe moved,Ibecame hyper-aware of every point where our bodies connected, my nerve endings doing the cha-cha with gleeful abandon.Theheat of his skin seemed to seep through my drenched clothes, warming me from the outside in like the world's sexiest hot water bottle.Myfingers instinctively curled into the fabric of his shirt, seeking an anchor in this whirlwind of sensation.

Despitethe danger, a part of me wished this moment would never end, content to remain in the protective cocoon of his arms.Becausereally, was there any better meet-cute than being rescued from death by tree in the middle of a raging storm by a man who looked like he'd stepped straight out of a romance novel cover?

Aswe finally reached the safety of the lodge's porch,Ilooked up at my savior, ready to thank him with all the gratitude my waterlogged heart could muster.Instead, what came out was:

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