Page 10 of Married in Misty Mountain

“Not…typically,” Hurley stammers. I’m guessing he can see the flashy logos on their sunglasses, jackets, and women’s fanny packs as clearly as I can.

The woman leans into her fiancé and says, “Come on, honey. This is going to be so much better than Aspen content. Nobody’s discovered Misty Mountain on Insta yet.”

Oh gosh. Influencers.

Suck it up, Shenna. You need this job.

Hurley waits for the couple to sort things out, and eventually, the husband agrees to Hurley’s price. I can’t believe anyone would pay in the neighborhood of four figures for an overnight trip in the woods. There’d better be a gold toilet in those hills.

He hands them health waivers to sign and says he’ll meet them outside by his truck.

When he turns to me, I open my mouth to ask a million questions, but all those questions are forgotten when his hand goes to my waist. A rough finger grazes against bare skin. I squeak in shock at the intimate touch, not knowing whether to be offended or flattered that he’s being so forward with me.

“You’re standing in front of the sunscreen,” he says, gently moving me to the side and reaching behind me.

My mouth is dry, and my head goes empty. My only thought is the tingling sensation radiating from where he touched my midriff. “What…what…”

I feel like the kid in A Christmas Story who gets so flustered when he meets Santa that forgets what he wants and stupidly agrees to receive a football under the tree.

Hurley doesn’t wait for me to gather my thoughts.

“Grab your gear; we’re heading out in five.”

And in the next second, he’s on a mission to load up his truck, paying me no mind.

Gear? What kind of gear does one take for an overnight trip?

I guess I’ll figure it out for myself. It’s just one night, though, so how badly could I screw this up?

Chapter Four

Hurley

How did I get myself into this mess?

More mystifyingly, why did I get myself into this mess?

It’s clear to me now that I am allowing emotions to rule my actions, much to my detriment.

After I brought Shenna dinner last night, I returned to the general store to leave Jack a note that I would need an assistant on the wilderness camp today. And I made sure the entire store was thoroughly stocked and cleaned, essentially leaving no work for Shenna to do on Sunday.

It was all part of my plan to make sure Jack steered her to me.

Shenna would be pissed if she knew how I manipulated the situation. But I don’t care.

I simply have to watch out for her. She’s not looking out for herself effectively enough. If she’d been shunned, there would be no need for a disguise. If anyone from that church came looking for her here, she’d be toast.

But now, I can see she needs way more help than I first realized.

I never should have assumed Shenna knew the first thing about wilderness hiking or camping. When I saw her limping on the trail, I made her sit down so I could examine her feet. I discovered her soles were one big blister because she wasn’t wearing moisture-wicking socks. She hasn’t complained; I’ll give her that much. However, her unwillingness to complain or ask for help is going to be her downfall.

She needs me in her life. To protect her, to be her friend, and maybe more. She needs a constant companion to stand up to the dark forces at play here. I’ve survived the trauma, and so can she, but she needs someone who understands what she’s been through. So far, the only person who qualifies for that role is me.

“Dammit! Ouch!”

I close the distance between myself and her. “What’s wrong? Snake bite?”

The married couple on this trip, Dave and Lisa from Salt Lake City, have trekked just past the treeline to relieve themselves. No one goes into the trees alone; that’s rule number one. They leave Shenna and me to start setting up the tents for the night.

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