Page 24 of Rescued By the Mountain Man

"County road crews have cleared the main routes. Your access road is passable now, confirmed by Sheriff Jackson twenty minutes ago." A pause, then: "How's Brynn holding up?"

Mack's eyes found mine across the kitchen. "She's fine. We’re both glad to have helped with the Lindstrom situation yesterday."

"Harriet hasn't stopped singing your praises." Something like pride colored Ian's voice. "Also, looks like cell service has been restored to your area. Tower crews worked through the night. Over."

"Appreciated. Over and out." Mack set the receiver down, a strange expression crossing his features.

The implications settled between us—with the roads clear and communications restored, there was no longer any practical reason for me to remain at the cabin. What had been necessity now became choice.

"So I can leave," I said, setting down the coffee scoop, my earlier contentment faltering.

"If you want to." His careful neutrality couldn't mask the tension in his shoulders.

I moved toward him, coffee forgotten. "That's not what I meant."

His arms opened to me, and I stepped into their sanctuary, resting my cheek against his bare chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my ear grounded me as surely as his arms around my waist.

"I don't want to leave," I confessed. "Not now. Not when this is just beginning."

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, his exhale stirring my hair. "Then don't."

I allowed myself to believe, just for a moment, that staying was possible. That I could carve out a new life here, with him, far from deadlines and city noise and professional obligations.

Then my phone, plugged in and forgotten, erupted in a series of chimes and alerts from the bedroom—text messages, voicemails, and emails flooding in now that service had been restored. Reality intruding on our mountain sanctuary with electronic persistence.

Mack released me reluctantly. "Sounds like someone's been trying to reach you."

With a sigh, I returned to the bedroom, gathering my phone to find seventeen missed calls, twenty-three text messages, and thirty-two emails—most from Jillian, each growing progressively more frantic. As I scrolled through the digital avalanche, the device vibrated in my hand, Jillian's name flashing on the screen.

"She has impeccable timing," I muttered before answering. "Hello?"

"Brynn?" Jillian's voice, sharp with barely contained impatience, sliced through my mountain idyll. "Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to reach you for days!"

"There was an accident," I explained, returning to the kitchen where Mack now poured coffee. "My car crashed during a storm. Then flooding cut off access and cell service."

"Jesus, are you alright?" A flicker of genuine concern before her professional persona reasserted itself. "Look, I hate to add to your troubles, but we've got a situation with the manuscript."

I sank into a kitchen chair, already knowing what was coming. "What kind of situation?"

"Marketing needs final pages by next Friday. No extensions this time." Her tone brooked no argument. "If you can't deliver, we're pushing your release to next year's calendar."

A delayed release meant months of lost income, potentially damaged relationships with retailers, disappointed readers. My career, already teetering after the lukewarm reception of my last book, might not recover. I tried to swallow the lump that had suddenly formed in my throat.

"I need to come back to New York," I said, the words tasting bitter.

"Yesterday would be good." Jillian's voice softened slightly. "I'm sorry about the accident, truly. But this deadline is non-negotiable."

"I understand." And I did, despite the ache spreading through my chest. "I'll arrange travel today."

After hanging up, I stared at the coffee mug Mack had placed before me, steam rising in lazy spirals that mimicked my scattering thoughts.

"Problem?" he asked, settling across from me.

I explained the situation in halting sentences, each word drawing me further from the sanctuary we'd created and back toward the reality awaiting me across the country.

"So you have to go back," he summarized, face carefully neutral.

"Yes." I reached for his hand, needing connection. "But not forever. Just to finalize the manuscript, handle the promotional commitments."

---