Page 81 of Shared By the Mountain Men

“It enhances my experience,” she argued. “I like seeing my stats.”

“There’s only one statistic you need. Did you complete the hike? Yes? Good. End of statistics.”

She laughed. “I know you’re being serious, but you’re a really funny guy without realizing it.”

To punish her for making fun of me, I lengthened my stride. The trail was easy, but had enough slope to make you work for it. Soon I fell into a nice rhythm as we passed across the meadow and into the thicker forest that covered the mountain.

I could tell she was struggling to keep up with me. But that was fine. If she didn’t push herself a little bit, she would never get back on the Colorado Trail.

“At least you’re not playing music on the trail,” I called over my shoulder.

“I hate people who do that,” she agreed. “It’s like, thanks for making everyone listen to your shitty playlist, bro. We didn’t want to enjoy nature.” She paused, then let out a grunt. “Wouldn’t matter, though, because I left my phone back at the cabin.”

“Good. Now you can truly appreciate nature.”

“I’m appreciating it plenty, thank you very much.”

It didn’t take long before I came across some downed tree branches across the trail, each about as thick as my thigh. I unslung the big ax and got to work chopping them into manageable pieces.

“You get paid for this?” Melissa asked when she caught up.

I raised the ax above my head, then brought it down on the wood. “No.”

“Isn’t it someone else’s job, then?”

“If everyone waited around…” Chop. “…for other people to make things better…” Chop. “…then the world would be a shitty place.”

I expected a pithy comeback, but she seemed like she was thinking about that while she watched me work.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Do you mean it, or are you just asking to be polite?”

“Both?”

Chuckling, I unhooked the hatchet from my belt and held it out. “Use that to cut away the smaller branches from the main trunk. It’ll save the clearing crew time later when they come through.”

I watched her out of the corner of my eye while I kept working. She wasn’thelplesswith the hatchet, but she wasn’t great with it. Still, she was able to save me a little bit of time by taking care of the smaller parts.

Once the branch was clear, we continued on the hike in silence. I slowed down a little, but still kept a steady, ground-eating pace.

“You’re going too fast,” she finally said.

“If you’re going to jump back on the Colorado Trail,” I said, “this is the kind of pace you’ll need to keep.”

At the next downed tree, we both got to work without a word. I swung the ax, biting into the wood inch by inch while Melissa took care of the smaller bits. But after a while, I had to intervene.

“You’re going to chop your leg off doing it like that,” I said, holding her hand over the ax and controlling her arm. “Swing it like this. Much safer.”

I had moved instinctively to show her what to do, but now I was keenly aware that I was in her personal space. Her scent filled my nose, flowery and fresh. Distinctively feminine. And the way her skin felt…

I let go of her arm and stepped back to let her continue. After a few swings, Melissa said, “Yeah, that does work better. Thanks.”

No argument or complaint? That was weird.

When we had cleared away this section, Melissa handed me the hatchet and said, “I’m going to set the pace this time. My ankle is doing well, but it’s still tender.”

I gestured up the trail with the hatchet. “Be my guest.”

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