Page 13 of Stranded with the Mountain Man

But here I am, thinking about her hands on my skin, her body beneath mine, the way she looked at me afterward—not just with desire, but with something deeper. Something that scares me more than any mountain rescue ever has.

I split another log cleanly, watching it fall to either side of the chopping block. Five years I've spent building walls around myself, crafting a life of self-sufficient solitude. Five years since Caroline walked out, declaring she "couldn't compete with a mountain." Five years of convincing myself I'm better off alone.

And then Elisa storms in—literally—and cracks my foundation in less than a week.

I hear the cabin door open and turn to see her standing on the porch, clutching a steaming mug. Her hair is pulled back loosely, tendrils escaping around her face. She's wearing one of my flannel shirts over her jeans, and the sight does something to my chest I'm not ready to examine.

"Thought you might want coffee," she calls out, holding up the mug. "It's freezing out here."

I embed the axe in the chopping block and make my way toward her, suddenly aware of my sweat-dampened t-shirt despite the cold. "Thanks."

Our fingers brush as she hands me the mug, and neither of us pretends not to notice the spark. This is dangerous territory.

"I was hoping you might show me more of your work today," she says, leaning against the porch railing. "You mentioned designing equipment for search and rescue?"

I nod, taking a sip of the perfectly made coffee. Another surprise—she's figured out exactly how I like it. "Got a separate workshop for that. More technical than woodworking."

"I'd love to see it. If that's okay?"

There's genuine interest in her eyes, not just polite conversation. It catches me off guard how much I want to share this part of my life with her.

"Sure. Let me finish up here first."

Later, after showering and changing, I lead her to the smaller workshop attached to the garage. Unlike my woodshop, this space is all precision and engineering—metal, composites, and technical drawings.

"This is where the engineering degree comes in handy," I explain, watching her take in the specialized equipment. "SAR work requires tools that don't exist commercially, or need adaptation for our specific terrain."

Her eyes widen as she examines a lightweight pulley system I designed last year. "You made all these?"

"Most of them. Some are modifications of standard equipment."

She picks up a compact folding splint that weighs half of the standard models. "This is incredible, Jace. How did you get into this?"

The question I've been expecting. I take a breath, leaning against my workbench.

"Eight years ago, I was the one being rescued." I rarely talk about this, but something about her makes me want to share it. "Was hiking the north ridge solo—something I'd done dozens of times. Got caught in a sudden storm, lost my footing on an icy patch. Fell about thirty feet into a ravine."

Her face softens with concern. "That's terrible."

"Shattered my left leg." I gesture toward the slight limp I still carry. "Would have died of exposure if the SAR team hadn't reached me. When I recovered, I realized I had skills that could help them. Started volunteering, then designing equipment."

"Is that when you left engineering in Toronto?" she asks, connecting the dots.

"Two years after. The accident changed my perspective. Sitting in an office designing luxury bathroom fixtures when I could be doing something that actually matters..." I shrug. "Wasn't sustainable."

"So you came out here to save lives." There's admiration in her voice, not the judgment I'm used to hearing when people learn about my choices.

"Something like that."

She moves closer, examining the technical drawings on my desk. "These are beautiful. Functional, but there's an artistry to them."

"Engineering is just problem-solving with aesthetics if you do it right."

Her laugh is unexpected. "I never thought of it that way."

"What about you?" I ask, genuinely curious. "Always wanted to plan weddings?"

"God, no. I wanted to be an architect." She smiles ruefully. "Life had other ideas. Started helping with my cousin's wedding when her planner bailed last-minute. Discovered I was good at it. One referral led to another, and suddenly I had a business."

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