Page 7 of Claimed By the Mountain Man

It had been years since I’d wanted anyone this much. Before, relationships were based on how many zeros were in my bank account. They had been too complicated, too messy. I’d come to Lone Mountain seeking solitude. Then Samantha showed up on my doorstep and shattered that peace with one smile.

The rest of the hike was torture. Every time she stumbled, I had to catch her. Every time she laughed at her own clumsiness, the sound went straight to my gut. And every time she bentover to adjust her hiking boots, I had to look away before I embarrassed myself.

“You’re a natural with people,” she said as we headed back down. The Hendersons were a few yards ahead, giving us the illusion of privacy. “Even if you try to hide it behind all that grumpiness.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

She grinned. “Sure you’re not, sunshine.”

The nickname should have irritated me. Instead, it made something warm unfurl in my chest. Dangerous. This whole situation was dangerous.

I thought about Ethan, about his meddling. Even though he’d packed up and moved back to Lone Mountain with me, he was always pushing me to find someone, never understanding that I wasn’t hiding from life—I was building one that made sense to me. But looking at Samantha, watching her charm my clients with her easy smile and quick wit, I wondered if maybe he knew what he was talking about. Not that he was following his own advice.

My last relationship had ended badly. She hadn’t understood why I’d wanted to give up the whirlwind lifestyle and live on a mountain. She didn’t understand that had never been me. That the lifestyle had been forced on me because of our success. Out here, leading tours, teaching people to survive in the wilderness—it felt more real than anything I’d done before.

Even after dropping the Hendersons back at their car, I couldn’t shake the memory of how Samantha had tasted. I was distracted, replaying every second. Wanting more.

“You should see the mountain at night,” I found myself saying as we walked back to the cabin. “The stars up here... they’re something else.”

Her eyes lit up. “Show me?”

I shouldn’t. Having her in my cabin was dangerous enough. Taking her camping, sharing a tent... It was a terrible idea, but her teasing smile made it hard to remember why. “You don’t have the right gear.”

“So? Share yours.” She bumped her shoulder against my arm. “Unless you’re scared, mountain man?”

Scared wasn’t the word. Tempted. Desperate. Fighting a losing battle with my self-control.

“Fine,” I growled, giving in. “But we’re doing this properly. You follow my instructions. The mountain’s different at night.”

She gave me a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

Twenty minutes later, I was packing the last of the gear while Samantha changed in the bathroom. I’d given her my spare thermal layers, trying not to think about her wearing my clothes. Or me taking them off.

“How do I look?”

Well, fuck.

She stood there, my oversized clothing swallowing her curvy frame. The sleeves fell past her hands, and she’d had to roll up the pants. She looked soft, touchable, and completely off-limits.

“You’ll do,” I managed.

The hike up took longer than usual. Not because Samantha was slow—though she did need help over some of the rougher terrain—but because she kept stopping to look at everything. Every wildflower, every view of the valley below had her full attention.

“This is incredible,” she said for the hundredth time as we reached my favorite camping spot. The sun was just starting to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

I knew what she meant. Lone Mountain had a kind of presence that was difficult to explain. “Wait till you see the stars.”

Setting up camp was an exercise in torture. Every time she bent over to help with the tent, every time she brushed against me as we worked, my body reminded me exactly how long it had been since I’d touched a woman. Since I’d wanted to.

Once the tent was up and secured, I took out a mat and laid it on the tent floor. Next, the sleeping bag.

“Only one sleeping bag?” she asked, watching me unroll it.

I didn’t want to admit why I’d brought only one. I had a spare. Backups for backups. But I’d wanted to hold Samantha in my arms, feel her soft body next to mine just once.

Just once? The sound through the pines seemed to taunt me. From the moment I’d opened my door, I knew I’d let her in. But the question was, did she want to be let in? “We’ll need to share body heat—nights up here can still get cold.”

She bit her lip, and I could see her trying not to smile. “Share body heat, you mean?”

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