Page 34 of Forbidden Passions

Because I was still that broken thing, still afraid of wanting too much.

The coward who let the best thing he’d touched in years walk away.

I put the truck in gear and drove back up the mountain, alone once more.

Just the way I wanted it.

Just the way I’d always be.

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Callie

I’d cried exactly once since Gabriel dropped me off.

One good, hard cry that lasted the entire night before I’d pulled myself together and decided that I was absolutely not going to waste another tear on a man who’d made his feelings—or lack thereof—perfectly clear.

Three days. That’s all it had been. Three days of being trapped with a grumpy mountain man and his amazing hands and his rare, devastating smile.

Three days that had somehow managed to get under my skin in a way nothing had before.

Three days that had undone me in ways nothing else ever had.

“This is pathetic,” I told Max, who was watching me mope around the rental cabin with worried eyes. “It was a storm fling. That’s all.”

Max tilted his head, clearly not buying it.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I sighed, dropping onto the couch. “I’m fine. Totally fine.”

I’d spent the past two days alternating between anger and a hollow ache that refused to subside. Anger was easier. Anger let me feel strong. Sharp. Less breakable. Anger let me focus on Gabriel’s stubbornness, his ridiculous commitment to isolation,his infuriating ability to dismiss what had happened between us as simply circumstance.

But in the quiet moments, the ache took over, and I found myself remembering other things. The gentleness in his hands despite their strength. The way his eyes softened when he thought I wasn’t looking. The surprising tenderness in how he’d held me afterward.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? I hadn’t just had amazing sex with a gorgeous, brooding mountain man. I’d glimpsed the person beneath the gruff exterior—the man who kept his sister’s favorite board game, who read Jack London and poetry, who cooked homemade soup and gave his clothes to a stranger in need.

The man who’d made me feel like more than just a woman passing through.

The man who’d held me like I was something he wanted, needed, then pushed me away like I was a threat.

“Well, screw him,” I muttered, pushing myself off the couch. “I came here to photograph birds, not pine over emotionally unavailable men.”

Except I wasn’t just pining. I was grieving something that had barely had time to begin.

I gathered my camera equipment, determined to salvage what remained of my vacation. The storm had driven wildlife into hiding, but today was clear and sunny. Perfect for capturing the raptors I’d originally come to photograph.

“Be good,” I told Max, scratching behind his ears. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

He whined softly, looking toward the door.

“No, buddy. You’re staying here.” I couldn’t risk him running off again. Especially not if there was any chance he might end up back at Gabriel’s cabin. “I’ll take you for a walk when I get back.”

I headed to one of the hiking trails that offered good vantage points for spotting eagles and hawks, trying to focus on my work rather than the hollow feeling in my chest. The forest was beautiful after the rain, everything washed clean and vibrant. Under normal circumstances, I would have been thrilled with the photography conditions.

But today, even beauty felt like a betrayal.

Instead, I found myself looking at the mountain differently, knowing Gabriel’s cabin was hidden among the trees.

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