Page 11 of Stranded with the Mountain Man

Heat rushes to my cheeks. Leave it to Dr. Hammond to jump straight to that conclusion.

Me: It's not like that. He's... an old friend.

Dr. Hammond:

"Old friend" is code for "ex-boyfriend," and you know it.Details requested immediately.

I shove the phone back in my pocket without answering.Bear has wandered a bit further ahead, nose to the ground as he investigates something interesting.I focus on collecting soilsamples, and carefully labeling each bag with location notes.If I'm stuck here, I might as well get some work done.

When I reach a small clearing, I pause, struck by the view.From here, I can see down into the valley, the town of Serenity Hollow just visible through the morning mist, it's unchanged in many ways.The church steeple is still the tallest structure, and the winding river cuts through like a silver ribbon even after all these years of environmental changes.

This was our spot once. Rosco would drive us up here on his motorcycle, and we'd spend hours planning our future, making promises that neither of us kept.

"Silly girl," I mutter to myself."Focus on plants. They don't break your heart."

I kneel to examine a cluster of early spring mushrooms, pulling out my field journal to make notes.Bear returns, flopping down beside me with a contented sigh.

"At least you're easy to please," I tell him, scratching behind his ears."Not like your owner."

Bear's ears perk up suddenly, head swiveling toward the path we came from.A moment later, I hear the soft crunch of boots on leaves.

"That was a quick hour," I say without looking up as Rosco steps into the clearing.

"It's been almost two." His voice is closer than I expected, and I turn to find him standing just a few feet away."I thought I'd find you somewhere up here."

"Sorry. I got caught up." I gesture to my half-filled notebook and the sample bags neatly arranged beside me."Lost track of time."

He doesn't respond immediately, and when I look up again, I find him watching me with an expression of something between nostalgia and guarded curiosity.

"You still do that," he says finally.

"Do what?"

"Get so focused on your plants that the world disappears." He crouches beside me, large frame folding with surprising grace."You'd do that back then too.I'd lose you for hours in the woods behind my parents' place."

The casual mention of our shared past catches me off guard.He's been so careful to avoid direct references to our relationship.

"Some things don't change, I guess." I close my notebook, suddenly aware of how close he is.He smells like sawdust and coffee, with an underlying note that's purely Rosco.It's disconcertingly familiar."How did you know I'd be here specifically?"

"This was our spot." He says it simply, without inflection."Figured if you were remembering old times, you'd end up here."

I swallow hard. "I wasn't--"

"It's fine," he cuts me off. "We have history.No point pretending we don't."

Bear chooses that moment to wedge himself between us, dropping a stick at Rosco's feet with hopeful eyes.

"Subtle, boy." Rosco picks up the stick and throws it into the trees.Bear bounds after it, leaving us momentarily alone.

"He really likes you," Rosco observes."It's weird. He doesn't usually take to strangers."

"Animals and plants," I remind him."Always liked me better than people."

"I liked you just fine." The words slip out, and for a moment, the carefully constructed wall between us thins.His eyes meet mine, and I see a flash of the boy I once loved beneath the hardened exterior of the man he's become.

"Past tense noted," I say, aiming for lightness and missing by a mile.

His mouth quirks up at one corner."I'm still deciding about present tense.You did track mud through my kitchen yesterday."

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