Page 14 of Stranded with the Mountain Man

"You miss designing buildings?"

"Sometimes. But there's a different kind of creativity in what I do. Ephemeral rather than permanent."

The way she articulates it surprises me. She's more complex than I initially assumed.

After that, we make dinner. And it’s as I watch her chopping vegetables that I realize I never want her to leave. I want this. This every night. Forever.

"How many people have you rescued?" she asks as we sit down to eat.

"Twenty-three directly. More as part of team operations."

"That must be an incredible feeling."

I think about it while cutting into my steak. "It's not about the feeling. It's about doing what needs to be done."

"Still." She reaches for her wine glass. "Twenty-three people who might not be alive without you."

Before I can respond, my radio crackles to life.

"Boone, you copy? We've got a situation."

I grab the radio from the counter. "Copy. What's happening?"

Jake's voice comes through, tense with urgency. "Snowmobilers missing near Watson Ridge. Three college kids, last contact three hours ago."

My body tenses with familiar readiness. "I can be at base in thirty—"

"Negative. Davidson Pass is still impassable. Marcus says you're to stay put. We've got enough hands from the south approach."

Frustration surges through me. "Those kids don't have much time in these temperatures."

"We know. We'll handle it. Just wanted to keep you in the loop. Someone needs to know where we’re headed in case things go south. Will update when we have them."

After signing off, I stare at the radio, feeling helpless and angry. Elisa watches me quietly.

"You want to be out there," she says. Not a question.

"I should be. I know that ridge better than anyone." I set the radio down harder than necessary.

"They'll find them," she says softly, reaching across the table to touch my hand. The gentle contact anchors me.

"They'd better." I turn my hand to entwine our fingers. "Sorry. This part never gets easier."

"Don't apologize for caring," she says, her eyes meeting mine. "It's who you are."

Not long after dinner, word finally comes that the snowmobilers have been found alive. The relief washes over me, and when Elisa wraps her arms around me in celebration, I pull her close without thinking.

Our embrace turns to kissing, but different from yesterday in the workshop. This is slower, deeper, laden with something thatfeels dangerously like tenderness. When she pulls back to look at me, her eyes reflect the same relief I feel, mixed with something darker, hungrier.

"Take me to bed, Jace," she whispers against my lips. "A real bed this time."

I lift her into my arms without hesitation, carrying her to my bedroom. It feels significant somehow, bringing her here to the most private part of my home rather than taking her against a workbench or on the hearth rug.

When I lay her on my bed, her hair fans out across my pillow like spilled honey. The sight of her there—Elisa Parker, city girl extraordinaire, in my rustic mountain sanctuary—sends a surge of possessiveness through me that I've never felt before.

"You're so beautiful it hurts to look at you," I tell her, my voice rougher than intended.

She reaches for me, pulling me down to cover her body with mine. "Then don't look. Feel."

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